Lover Beware

often horrifying, but painful as well.
    “Hello,” he says.
    She turns, drawing in a sharp breath. Her eyes are wide and her red lips parted.
    A groan worked up Anna’s throat. She pressed her fingertips to her temple, the heat at her back growing more intense, uncomfortably so.
    Blue eyes made green by the yellow lamplight. Blue eyes are his favorite. They turn dark as a deep ocean when they are dying. He leans against the street sign. One Way. Oh, yeah. One way for her tonight. Isn’t she lucky?
    Too hot. Too hot. The flesh of her back was burning. The flashes of sound and images came and went so fast she couldn’t hold them.
    Concentrate on Bobbie Cox. Get in her head. Into her eyes. What is she seeing?
    She nods and turns away, moving toward the dark alley. He follows closely. Her smile is bright and excited as she glances at him over her shoulder .
    Anna moved through the dark, down the narrow alleyway between two buildings. The heat pulsated around her. She reached out, feeling the jagged ridges of the old bricks scrape her fingertips. The stench of garbage and damp mildew was overwhelming, yet there was something else—
    Closer now, he can smell her perfume. Something floral. Like jasmine. One Way. Oh, yeah. One way for her tonight. Isn’t she lucky?
    A pressure on her. Biting into her shoulders. Weight. Something on his back.
    A sound.
    The image in her head suddenly gone, Anna blinked as her eyes adjusted to the night shadows. The sweet aroma of Bobbie’s perfume vanished, replaced by the stink of the alley, rank of old age and neglect. Something had intruded. A sound. What was it?
    She turned and looked toward the street—a rectangular tunnel-like image where the cruiser sat beneath the vapor light. The cop was no longer smoking. His head rested back against the seat, as if sleeping.
    Deep breath. Easier now. The flashes were coming easier. So damn close. What had disturbed her?
    Focus on Bobbie. Get in her head. Imperative. Best to see through the victim’s eyes. Tough. Always tough until the end when the victim’s energy exploded to the forefront with horror.
    She stands at the apartment door. Keys in her hand. She feels elated as she hums to herself, Happy Birthday to you…Surprise, Mama, I’m home! Maybe she won’t come back to New Orleans. Maybe this time she’ll get her act together—go to business school like Mama wants. Hate the life. What had she been thinking? Nuts and perverts. But this guy isn’t so bad. Good looking, clean, compassionate. Five hundred bucks! Happy Birthday to you…
    Hands reach for the keys—nice hands, well manicured. She tips back her head and looks into his eyes—
    The image blurred. Hold on hold on—
    Focus!
    The vision pulsed, bright and dim, melting like some macabre watercolor picture left out in the rain. Bobbie’s voice in her head crackled like radio static, one station bleeding over into another, the intrusion shattering the sound and vision so the killer’s eyes disappeared into a pinpoint of light that was obliterated by darkness.
    Suddenly there were hands on her—hard hands—gripping her shoulders from behind.
    Anna’s heart thundered as her body tensed. In one motion, she slid her hand under her jacket and withdrew the gun, angled one way with a swift shift that drove one elbow back into the body near hers with enough impact that there came a grunt as she was released.
    Spinning, throwing herself back against the apartment door, Anna lifted the gun and leveled it between Jerry’s eyes.
    “Shit.” He stumbled back, gripping his ribs, his dark eyes wide. “It’s me. Jesus, don’t shoot. It’s me, Anna.”
    Anna released her breath and sank against the door, slowly lowered the gun. “For God’s sake, what are you doing coming up behind me like that?”
    “What are you, deaf? I called your name three times.” He straightened. Winced. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    Anna replaced the gun in its holster, her hands trembling. “What do you expect coming up like that in the dark?”
    “I told you. I called you. Christ, it was as if you were on another planet. What the hell were you humming ‘Happy Birthday’ for?”
    “Was I?” She took a deep breath and released it. “Are you okay?”
    “I’ll live.” He moved up beside her. “Since when did the FBI encourage stupidity?”
    She frowned. “Meaning?”
    “You know as well as I do that agents never go out on their own—at least not in this kind of situation.