“A laptop, yes, of course,” she replied. “She kept all her business there. Do you need it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kate said immediately, “I do. One thing we’ll need to figure out is who else might have known that they went jogging in the morning, for example.”

  “I have no idea,” she stated, “but we all knew. They’ve been doing it for years. They laughed about it. They used to do some racing for fun, as they were very competitive, but there was never any animosity between them.”

  “Was it always just the two of them?”

  She frowned, then looked at Kate. “You know what? I don’t think so. It seems like another woman went with them as well. But something happened to that, yet I can’t remember just what.” Her face lit up. “She had twins. That’s what happened. I forgot for a moment.”

  “Good for her,” Kate said. “Hard to get back to the same running schedule after that.”

  She nodded. “Let me go get the laptop for you.”

  “Oh, and if she has a cell phone.”

  The mother stopped. “She would have had that with her.”

  “Right,” Kate noted. “I’m sure we have it then.”

  Relief passed over the mother’s face. “That’s good. I know it shouldn’t matter, but somehow it does. She was so connected to that phone that I think I’d actually like to bury it with her.” And then she turned and dashed off to get the laptop.

  “Bury the woman with her phone,” Kate whispered to herself. “That’s a new one.” Did people love their technology so much now that they would want to be buried with it? Personally she’d just like to be cremated and her ashes taken out to the woods and thrown back whence she came. But she knew burial rituals were important to a lot of people; they’d just never been important to her.

  *

  Simon St. Laurant opened his eyes and stared around his bedroom. It was early Saturday morning, Kate had left on a case hours ago, but his heart raced, as if under attack. He had an instinctive need to jump up and to race away. But this was definitely his bedroom, and nothing was wrong here. He slowly sat up, his body wanting to run and run and run. He shook off the sensation and hopped out of bed. Then slowly, almost as if in slow motion to combat the panic in his brain—still telling him to run—he headed to the bathroom. It was barely light outside. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it felt like the residue of some sensation.

  Some psychic sensation.

  Shaking his head, he washed his hands and crawled back into bed again. As soon as he closed his eyes, it was like he was racing down a path, his feet pounding on the dirt beneath him. But he was laughing, and there was something light about the movements. And he realized that it wasn’t him; it was somebody else. When he heard the laughter, he realized it wasn’t his laughter either. A woman’s.

  He turned to look and saw another person, a woman running just behind him, not close enough to actually see as he would like though. The air was fresh and bright, and joy filled his heart. He smiled because, for the first time ever, it seemed that this psychic experience was about something great. Most of the time his visions involved connecting with pain and torture.

  He just enjoyed the sensation of a wild run like this, controlled and yet almost at full speed. This person was a runner, somebody who jogged every morning, but right now this was a sprint for a finish line. Some conversation was going on between the two runners, but this woman he was connected to laughed as she ran.

  She ran faster and faster, and it was such a weird sensation being in a female body, as he felt her breasts bounce with every step. Thankfully she wasn’t massive, as, for the first time in his life, he experienced the discomfort of that on a run. She wore a sports bra, and he felt the band around his chest. A part of him wondered at such a thing, even as the rest of his mind was fully encapsulated in this vision. The vision itself was an anomaly because he was awake and yet not awake.

  He was not asleep, and yet his subconscious was taking over, but his eyes were open. Plus, he knew that he was in his bedroom, but he felt this run, this absolute flat-out joy of being healthy and fit and out running on a pathway in nature. And obviously there was such a sense of camaraderie with whoever she was with that just added to the fun.

  He didn’t know how many people were in this group. The path wasn’t very wide at this spot, although it widened up ahead, and, almost as soon as they got there, the other person raced past. She wore blue jogging pants that looked more like leggings, made of that fancy special tech material to whisk away water, to keep you warm, and to keep the sweat from cooling you down. That woman wore a sports bra too, and that’s about all he saw, as the woman raced past, her long blond ponytail bouncing behind her. She was also fit, laughing and having fun as well.

  The person Simon was connecting with swore and picked up the pace, running faster and faster, until the two were neck and neck. She was so focused on the path that she wasn’t looking at her friend. She caught glimpses of a long ponytail but that was it. And she kept going faster and faster, as the path widened ever-so-slightly up ahead yet again.

  Then bam. He jerked back several steps, shocked, his head screaming at him, as something came out of nowhere and slammed into his head. Almost as if he’d run flat into a tree branch. He was on the ground, and then there was just pain—something cold, wet, and then burning hot in his face. He started to scream, as he rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the hot stinging pain on his skin and in his eyes.

  He got up and stumbled into the bathroom and poured cold water all over his face, but it didn’t help. He stared into the mirror, but that didn’t help either. All he saw were trees all around him. He stared down at his hands, but they were elegant, with long fingernails, not his short, thick muscled hands.

  He was still caught in the same damn vision.

  Yet, as he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see the victim. All he saw were the trees and the bushes and the pathway. Slowly he made his way back to his bed, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when a rope came around his neck and his partner, friend, or whoever it was slammed up against him. She seemed to be unconscious, while he was awake. He couldn’t think at all because he was choking, his hands at his throat, the rope cutting his fingers as he fought it. Consciousness came and went, and then he felt something even worse. Something metallic, something thin and cutting, and then he knew no more.

  He laid back down on the bed for a long moment, his breathing erratic, as he tried to go over the events in his mind. As soon as he thought he had a handle on it, he called Kate. When she didn’t answer, he groaned, then waited to leave a message. “I need you to call me back,” he demanded, his voice harsh.

  And she didn’t, at least not right away, but, about an hour later, she called him, her voice distracted. “What’s up?”

  “You have a runner who died.”

  He heard the gasp in her voice, as she whispered, “What do you know about that?”

  “I just saw her death,” he stated, his tone harsh. “She was so happy, so full of life, and so fun. She was out running, racing with her friend. And then something came out of the blue and dropped them both. Then something burned their faces, and a rope choked off their throats. And yet there was a bit of consciousness, in and out, before something cut her throat. And I don’t know beyond that.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her tone grim, sad. “That pretty well sums it up. So, through all of that, I don’t suppose you saw who did it, right?” she asked in a wry tone.

  “I couldn’t see anything after that stuff was thrown in her face,” he stated. “Isn’t this a little overkill?”

  “Any kill is overkill in my opinion,” she snapped. “In this case, we’re trying to figure out why. It was both of them, you know?”

  “Both of them?”

  “Yes, the one running with her also died.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “I did sense that they were together, but I don’t know anything beyond that.”

  “They were both killed at the same time,” she added, “at least as far as we can tell, with what we have so far. What we don’t know is why and how somebody was able to handle the two of them.”

  “Well, the blow to the head would have done it right off the bat,” he noted. “My head is still killing me.”

  “Sorry,” she replied gently. “You need to find a way to shut this off.”

  “Shut it off?” He huffed. “Great idea. That would be awesome, but something that isn’t likely to happen.”

  “Well, it could happen,” she said. “Couldn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” he whispered, “but it isn’t happening right now. Whoever this is, he took away something very precious.”

  She was silent for a moment. “No connection to the other one?”

  “No, I don’t even know which one I’m connecting to, just someone full of life. Yes, I remember. The other one, the blonde, wore a blue tracksuit and a matching sports bra,” he said, “but, when I say tracksuit, it’s not like the old kind with the stripes down the outer side of the pants. These were like tight leggings.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “That special running gear they’re wearing these days. These two women ran together for years.”

  “And that was obvious,” he confirmed. “A lot of joy filled their voices, and I felt so much joy in this woman’s heart as she ran.”

  “Well, I’m glad the last hour before her death was good,” she noted, “because that death really didn’t give them a chance to defend themselves.”

  “No,” he agreed, “not at all. This person didn’t come to hurt. He came to kill.”

  “And still, the question is why? Did she have any thoughts, anything you could recognize?”

  “No,” he replied. “That’s the biggest problem with all this. There are never any answers. It’s just more of the same bullshit. I can see—and, in this case, even feel—it happening, but I can’t stop it. I can’t do a thing about it.”

  “In this case,” she added, “you’re also behind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s over. It happened several hours ago.”

  He stopped. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “We had a bottle of wine last night. Usually it takes more than that to delay a vision.”

  “Maybe the vision didn’t come through at first try, or maybe it came through, but you couldn’t remember it until later.”

  “No idea,” he admitted. “Can’t say I appreciate the thought that it waited for me to sober up.”

  “No, and yet maybe that delay has to do with the fact that the vision was important.”

  “Maybe, but then why? What about it is so important?” he asked bitterly. “Seems like none of this is important, now that it’s already too late.”

  “I hear you,” she said calmly. “That doesn’t change anything though.”

  “And again, that’s my point. Nothing ever changes. It’s always the same old, same old. People get hurt. People die. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “You’ve done lots in the past,” she reminded him, with what seemed like forced cheerfulness. “So let’s not go down that pathway. If you come up with anything helpful, just let me know.”

  “Wait. Do you know who they are?”

  “Yes, Jenna is the blonde divorcee. You connected to her best friend, Robin. She was a mother of two, and they both lived in the same townhome complex on Pendrell Street by Second Beach. They’ve been running together for years. Apparently all the neighbors knew it.”

  “So, a lot of people could have known about their jogging schedule.”

  “Yes, they were also found on a pathway, a common running path, which is quite hilly. So a lot of vantage places exist, where somebody could have stopped and waited for them.”

  “But he would have had to know exactly when they were there,” he argued.

  “I’m not sure that would have been a difficult thing. These two women went before work every day and sometimes ran twice a day on weekends. So, anybody who’s out in the jogging community would have known. Or anybody who’s looking for a victim and chose that area would see them on a regular basis.”

  He nodded. “Well, let’s hope you find the killer fast.”

  “Any reason not to?” she asked, curious.

  He frowned.

  “Just wondering,” she said, “considering that we have two of them here, if you had anything helpful.”

  “They were blindsided,” he noted. “At no point in time did I get any sense of recognition from either of them. Whatever happened was very fast, and they weren’t at all prepared for it. They weren’t expecting it and didn’t have time to do much more than try to fight. And honestly that didn’t last very long either.”

  “No, so the surprise attack was well-thought-out, and, although the killer may have had some issues actually handling the killing,” she murmured, “in the end, it didn’t take very long at all.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “As far as we can tell, he used a rope to strangle them jointly but couldn’t really do a decent job with the two of them together, since they were tied up with the same rope around their necks. He then used a garrote and sliced into their necks.”

  “Definitely overkill.”

  “I think he wanted to be thorough,” she noted thoughtfully. “Make sure they were really dead.”

  “Well, that’s thorough all right, but there has to be more to it than that.”

  “I’m on it. You just need to rest and to let this one go.”

  “Yeah, like I’ll let that go,” he noted, his tone bitter.

  “If not, then lean into it,” she suggested, “and come up with something useful.” And, with that, she hung up.

  He stared down at the phone. “Like I can just do that either,” he snapped. No point in getting angry at her though. He was angry at himself for his inability to do just what she mentioned. Wouldn’t it be nice to think that he could just turn around and decide to become a “gifted” person, who could get into the head of a killer, instead of being an unwilling eyewitness to their victims’ deaths for a change?

  It seemed like he only ever connected with the victims. He knew in the back of his mind that probably something was there for him to work with, but the fact remained that a small part of him still saw himself as a victim too and was determined to never be one again.

  Whether that was why he connected with other victims, he didn’t know, or maybe it was because of that determination that Simon was reaching out to help other victims. Again they probably needed a shrink to handle this, but any shrink who knew what Simon was doing and going through would have a whole lot to say, and none of it would be what Simon nor the shrink really needed or wanted to hear. Simon wouldn’t let himself be medicated either, and too much of the medical and mental health community was all about drugging you up and drugging you down, until you didn’t know if you were coming or going. Not Simon’s style at all.

  His world had to function somehow, and it wouldn’t function if he were on drugs. No way could he be making the decisions he needed to make on a day-to-day basis if he were under any chemical influence. Plus, the damn drugs were scary as shit. If you got off them cold turkey, it led to more depression and suicides—the very drugs given to depressed people who were suicidal. Simon shook his head at the insanity of it all. More patients needed to realize this before swallowing just anything a doctor gave them.

  Besides, giving up control was something Simon was never very good at. As a matter of fact, it was something that he would never allow to happen, no matter who the hell told him differently.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Kate got back to the office, she brought up a map of the jogging area. These were readily available; apparently it was all part of some popular runner’s circuit. So much of the park itself was developed, but the larger portion was still wild and full of walking and jogging trails.

  What she needed to do was connect with the husband of the other victim—Agnew, per Jenna’s mom—and see whether the two women had a regular running route that they could count on, one that changed on a regular basis, or one that they chose randomly as they ran. If it changed, that was a different story. If it was the same, day in and day out, all Kate needed to do was find somebody who frequented that area, since other runners would have seen the two women on a regular basis.

  Also, Kate needed to follow up with Agnew about that third party to the wives’ runs and confirm what had happened there.

  Of course, even a permanent running schedule over the years didn’t mean somebody who knew them had killed them. Somebody could have followed them or was on the running path too. There could be any number of options. As Kate sat down, studying the pathway, she looked over at Rodney. “I want to walk the running path.”

  “You mean, you want to run the running path?”

  “Actually that’s not a bad idea either. I wouldn’t mind seeing what time frame we’re talking about.”

  He looked over at her. “What good would that do?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I need to go for a run either way, and I want to check it out, and that sounds like the best idea yet.”

  He shrugged. “You go for it. I hate running.”

  “Maybe so, but you still do it.”

  “Yep, I do it to keep fit, but it’s not something I’d choose to do for fun.”

  She laughed. “Well, that’s exactly what our victims did,” she noted, “so I want to take a look at it.”

  He smiled, then nodded. “Have at it.”

  She took that to mean she was going alone. Well, that was fine with her. “I think I’ll head over there now.” She looked at her watch. “The day is almost over anyway.”

  He frowned. “You’ll go for a run now? It’s really hot out there.”

  “It might be hot, but it’s also a good way to see the area.”

  He shrugged. “As I said before, go for it.”

  She smiled and stood. “See you tomorrow then.”