Perhaps she had been possessed by demons temporarily. On reflecting back, Special Agent Anna Cady could not come up with any other explanation as to why she would have ever tangled, literally as well as figuratively, with Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast. A momentary leave of her senses? Some sort of breakdown? Whatever it was, he had surprisingly responded in kind. Well, perhaps not so surprising. They had never treated each other with kid gloves.

It had been a bad day. A long, drawn out, annoying bad day, the kind filled with pressure from above, nasty sniping remarks from colleagues, constant questions about the last job she had been on from the AIC, and where was the rest of her paperwork? On days like this, Cady realized she was unfit company for man or beast by five o’clock. She left the building at the end of her workday without a word to anyone, marched the eight blocks to her apartment, looking forward to an evening of blue jeans, bare feet, chilled wine, and something absolutely mindless, be it book or movie on the box. So of course when she opened the door, feeling relief at last, and sailed into her bedroom—“What...   read more »

Special Agent Cady entered her apartment and drew her Glock immediately. The door had been locked and nothing was obviously out of place, but something was off. She could feel it. There was an unsettled air in the apartment and she trusted her instincts. It was how she stayed alive. When she looked over to her living room and realized that the shades had been drawn, she tightened her grip on the gun. She never left the apartment in the morning with the shades still drawn. Someone had pulled them down. She glanced back and saw the same was true of the blinds in the kitchen. She crept silently down the hall, saw that the bathroom was clear, saw that the guest room was clear, and froze upon seeing that her bedroom door was shut. Leaving her bedroom door shut was another thing she never did.

She took a deep breath, then turned the knob and flung the door wide but profiled against the wall, making herself a smaller target as she swiftly regained the two-handed grip on her pistol.

And there he was, waiting for her in front of the bed, hands at his sides, wearing jeans, a tee-shirt,...   read more »

She had been having the dreams for about two days. By the second day, they were no longer confined to her sleeping hours. She found herself “winking out,” as she called it, even when standing at the stove stirring canned soup, or doing dishes at the small sink. Always the same vision. Always a man, dressed in black clothing, face pale as if nearly drowned or nearly frozen, always the same message: help me.

When she could stand it no longer, having winked out this time sitting on the couch trying to read a murder mystery, she put the book down on the coffee table, laced up her running shoes, and went out the door, flinging on her hooded sweatshirt as she exited.

The boat shed was where she headed. She didn’t know why, or how she knew that, she just knew that was where she had to be and she didn’t question it. She had stopped questioning both her visions and her instincts when she was a child. The sand this far from shore was hard with the arrival of autumn and packed tight. There was a cold wind blowing in from the water that whipped her hair around her...   read more »

By three o’clock in the afternoon, Special Agent Pendergast had been working with Special Agent Anna Cady for approximately seven hours. He had found her to be an instinctive investigator, gifted and perhaps even brilliant. But she gave him pause. “Her methods are a bit unorthodox.” Pendergast sat on the park bench and chose his words with care as he watched the joggers and rollerbladers pass back and forth before him on the path several yards away. “Beyond the gadgets and the wide assortment of weapons she carries, her entire demeanor is unusual.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the connection. “Pendergast,” Mike Decker said somewhat dryly, “You are not the only unusual agent with unorthodox methods in this office. You are not the only one whose behavior elicits complaints. And you are also not the only one I find myself having to, shall we say, shield from time to time.” He sighed. “Okay. The Cliff Notes on Anna, if you want them, include a tendency to be a loner, a tendency to do things her way, and a strong tendency to come out of left field from time to time. She finished law school...   read more »