It was getting late by now, and Leigh wanted to get started on her CPD. Unfortunately, she could tell that her body wasn’t quite ready for sleep yet, and her mind still hadn’t decided exactly what her focus question for the dream would be.

She went to the gym and began doing katas to focus her mind and tire her body. When she finally went upstairs to shower, she was dripping with sweat.

Frank was waiting for her in her room when she got there. She’d asked him earlier to keep an eye on her as she dreamt. “Decided what you’re dreaming about yet?”

“Yes. ‘How can we find this person: Reg Morrison/Tommy Anderson/Jebidiah James Carter III? That is, the body that’s Reg Morrison....’”

Frank nodded, and Leigh crawled into bed. There hadn’t been time yet for Master Naka to teach her the Sleeping Meditation, so she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. And waited. And waited.

While she knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing, and so her mind-set was one of determination and self-assurance, all her doubts assailed her now, keeping her awake. She would close her eyes and her memories of Reg would flash across the insides of her eyelids, drawing up her conflicting emotions.

Love for all that Reg had been, before Tommy had ‘come out’ and then Jamie had taken control of them both. The ambivalence that came with knowing that the man she loved was now so fully possessed by evil that he was no longer truly the man she loved. Hope that maybe he could still be saved, that maybe Jamie could be forced out without having to destroy Reg’s body. Fear that when the time came she wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done, that she wouldn’t be able to stop Tommy/Jamie. And anger that she was once again being forced by fate to kill the man she loved.

Her thoughts were a little fatalistic at this point, because Reg was just the latest man she loved who would have to die prematurely due to the touch of the Unknown. Could she go through this again without losing her mind? Without losing herself? She tossed and turned as her mind dealt with the fact that she was planning to find Tommy/Jamie to kill him before Reg, the man she loved, was part of anything else horrible.

Leigh sat up and meditated, trying to settle her mind and let go of her incessant thought processes. She laid flat again, stiff as a board, trying to force sleep to come. She got up and walked around, hoping to loosen her limbs and lighten her thoughts. She went back to the gym, hoping that more katas would wear her out so that her brain had no choice but to succumb to sleep.

Finally, she crawled back in bed, exhausted as much by her mental efforts as by her physical ones. She thought about home, how happy she’d been growing up on her family’s homestead in Denmark. She pictured it as it had looked the last time she’d been there, down to the lichens growing on the huge stones of the foundation. And she finally drifted off to sleep.

Slowly, Leigh became aware of a dripping sound. She couldn’t open her eyes, but she wasn’t sure why, so she just laid there and listened. She compared the dripping to other sounds she’d heard before, and decided that it was most like the sound of water falling from leaf to leaf after a summer rain.

The dripping got more rapid, as Leigh heard a breeze rustle the leaves. She took a deep breath, expecting to smell the rain and the wet earth. Instead, she smelled pine and the lingering smell of wood smoke from an old fire. She could feel a prickly stickiness under her that reminded her of pine sap. “I must be lying under a pine tree,” she thought to herself.

Now that she’d managed to place herself in her immediate surroundings, Leigh turned her attention to what else her body was feeling. She still couldn’t open her eyes, so she tried to work other muscles. But gently, quietly. She still didn’t know why she was wherever she was, nor who else might be there with her. She wasn’t ready to tip her hand just yet.

She thought she was flexing her muscles, just like the slow, flowing movements of Tai Chi. But she couldn’t feel the scrape and drag of her skin against the ground, which she should’ve felt if she was actually moving.

More particularly, she could tell that there was something wrong with her left leg. But she wasn’t sure what. She tried to flex her ankle and foot. Her brain sent the command, but she couldn’t feel her limb respond. Nor could she hear any sound of movement to tell her that it was simply that her nerves that weren’t working right.

She’d been listening hard for that sound of her own movement, and instead heard the sound of someone else moving around, a little ways away. It was the muffled crunch of someone walking on pine needles.

Leigh directed her attention back to her muscles. Maybe something smaller this time, something that shouldn’t draw the attention of whoever was out there. She concentrated on her fingertips, trying to tap just her right forefinger against the ground beneath it. Very, very slowly she felt it move. It was like she was moving through gauze...or like she’d been drugged.

Leigh tried other fingers, one at a time. Her mind was working hard, but her body was so unresponsive. When she was sure her fingers worked, she turned her right hand to try to touch her leg. Gently...gently.... She didn’t want to overdo it and make some huge, noticeable movement before she was ready to confront whoever was there with her.

She could almost feel herself break out in a sweat from the strain, but she was pretty sure she’d felt her fingertips brush her right thigh.

A short distance away, Leigh heard the sound of something being moved, thumped against something else, and dropped. She froze. There was the distinctive sound of a match being struck, and that little puff of sulfur smell when the match catches fire. Then the sounds of a fire being nursed into health...someone blowing lightly and then more strongly, the crackle of tinder catching...like a campfire being started.

As Leigh laid there, straining all her other senses to pick up clues about where she was and what condition she was in, she realized that she still hadn’t seen anything at all. It was odd, since dreams were usually visual, and sound and smell generally weren’t present in them.

She focused on her fingers again, this time trying to touch her left leg. She was flat on her back, and she was pretty sure her arms were straight down at her sides. The right one had been.... She strained a little harder and felt her fingertips brush her left thigh...felt denim.... For some reason, she got the vague impression that she was wearing shorts.

The air around her was cold and damp, and Leigh wondered if it was dark or light. Her eyes were still closed, and she couldn’t feel the warmth of sunlight on her face, so though she was sure she was outside, she had no clue whether it was day or night.

She focused on her eyelids, trying to open them just a crack, enough to let in what light there might be. She didn’t need to see the whole scene just yet. Leaves rustled somewhere far above, and with the wind shift she could smell the wood smoke from the fire. Something dripped onto her face, cold and wet, and dribbled down her cheek, around her ear, and down the side of her neck.

Leigh struggled to lift her eyelids. It felt like there were lead weights holding them down. Footsteps, farther away at first, crunched closer to her. She could ‘feel’ someone kneel down next to her; it was that subtle ‘pressure’ in the air, signaling that someone had invaded her personal space.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

The voice, Reg's but not Reg's, was low, almost a whisper. It sent chills up and down her spine. His hand touched her right thigh and caressed it gently. But there was no love in the touch. Then she felt something being wrapped around it, a narrow piece of cloth or....

Leigh struggled to form the words, her tongue feeling all swollen in her mouth, suddenly dry with fear. “A...tourniquet....”

“Yes. I like it fresh.” The voice slid through her brain like that slick but dry, satiny feel of snake skin.

Her eyes flew open and she saw Tommy (definitely not Reg) kneeling next to her, holding a meat cleaver. And without fully looking at it, she knew that her left leg was gone, from the point just beyond where her fingertips could reach.

Leigh sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide open and the beginning of a scream just tightening her chest. A wave of weakness swept over her, and she suppressed the scream as she fought to pull back the covers.

Her legs.... Thank God! They were there, though a little numb. She grabbed the notepad and pencil from the night stand and began scribbling notes about her dream. “Primarily pine. Fair amount of underbrush. Definitely American, not European types. Fairly large body of water, lake, not too far to the right. Heard and smelled. A campsite maybe within visual range? Didn’t look like a standard campsite. Not a state campground, but on private land?”

As she wrote, she pictured everything she could in her mind, trying to fuse every detail into her memory. She was pretty sure she’d recognize the place again if she saw it, even though she didn’t ‘stay’ there very long. “Campfire and stone pit it was in, to right about 11:00. Just past it, a big limestone rock. Formerly part of a cliff? Gigantic boulder? Land formation?” She drew what she could of the boulder’s shape, hoping it would jog her memory more. “Lake must be farther away, maybe more aware of it in dream than in real world? Aware of ‘eternal presence’ of water?”

Leigh looked around, and was a little surprised to not see Frank there. He’d been there when she came back from doing more katas. Maybe, he’d just gone to the bathroom. Or maybe he’d left the room so he wouldn’t disturb her further attempts to fall asleep. She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been sleeping.

“I’m awake,” she said aloud, as if to reassure herself. “I’m awake and I have legs...and that’s a good thing.”

At 3:30am on June 2, as Leigh was waking from her dream, Tony was just landing back at City Airport, and he was wide awake, too. He’d been having a hard time relaxing with his family, knowing that Reg was loose and Tommy was in control. So he finally gave up and headed back to Detroit to get this taken care of. When Reg was dead or back in the loony bin, then maybe he could spend some quality time with Ma.

He dialed both Justin’s and Leigh’s cell numbers. Either one was more likely to answer than the others.

Since Justin’s phone was on ‘vibrate’ and lying on a pile of papers on the floor, it took several rings before he even heard it. He was sound asleep on the couch, and he rolled over and slapped at it. It ‘picked up’ at the same time Leigh, still upstairs marveling over her legs, answered her phone.

“Tony, it’s good to hear you, and I still have legs!”

There was a grunt from Justin. If Leigh was just chatting with whoever called, then it must not be very important.

“Uh...dat’s good ta hear?” Tony said, confused. “Should we continue dis...um...awkward conversation somewhere elts?”

“No. Why?”

“OK. So, uh, Leigh...udder dan preservin’ nice parts a’ yer anatomy, anyt’ing elts goin’ on?”

“Tommy is loose.”

“I know. It happened before I went ta my ma’s. I’m jus’ wonderin’ if I oughta still be carryin’ 2 fully-loaded guns in my belt. Oh, uh, is dis line safe? Or has Tommy tapped it?”

“Why don’t you just come to the clubhouse,” Leigh suggested.

“Should I bring Coneys?”

“If you like.”

“Should I bring lotion for your legs?” There was a friendly sort of teasing leer in Tony’s voice.

Justin just groaned and rolled over.

“Uh...OK,” Leigh told him. She and Tony hung up. After a minute, Justin’s phone automatically hung itself up.

Leigh turned and put her feet on the floor, wiggling her toes and rubbing her legs with newfound appreciation. She wrapped her robe around herself and went downstairs. As she passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen, she heard a ‘click’ from one of the couches. She paused.

“Hunh?”

It was Justin’s voice, but Leigh saw the gun first, his large hand wrapped around the butt, with the index finger laid along the side of the trigger guard. A moment later, Justin’s head joined it above the back of the couch.

“Oh. It’s you,” Justin said sleepily. He flicked the safety back into place and slipped the gun back in its holster.

“Yes. I have legs!” He looked pretty rough, like he’d just fallen asleep in the middle of a fight.

Justin stared at her for a second. “Uh, nice non sequitur. You workin’ late, too?” he asked.

“Sort of. Dreaming.”

“Productive?” Justin rolled off the couch and rubbed his face. Now that his adrenalin was flowing again, he might as well get up and get back to work. Not that he was sure what to do next. It sounded like everyone else was still sleeping, and he didn’t want to disturb anyone.

“Yeah. I think he’s west of here,” Leigh told him. “And maybe north. It was cold.”

Justin shuffled to the kitchen and started working on coffee. He didn’t bother turning on the light. This was one of those things he’d learned to do in his sleep.

Leigh followed him, flipping on the kitchen light. “Maybe you could look at my notes? Help me figure out exactly what they might mean?” She held out the sheet of note paper. It didn’t occur to her that she’d written the notes in Danish, a language Justin didn’t read.

Justin took the page with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other. “Hunh. Um...German?”

“What?”

Justin held the paper out so she could see the writing.

“Oh. No. Danish!”

“Is that German-ish?”

Leigh laughed. “Yes. Here, I’ll translate it.” She held out her hand for the paper.

“Good,” Justin said, handing it back. “I’ll make the coffee.” He turned back to the coffee maker.

Leigh sat down at the table and rewrote the notes in English, while Justin leaned against the counter waiting for the coffee to finish.

Leigh was just finishing the translation as Justin poured two cups of coffee. “Trade ya,” he said, carrying one cup over to her.

As he scanned through the notes, Leigh began filling in some of the details for him. He couldn’t help but shudder when she repeated Tommy’s words just as he’d said them in the dream.

When she got to describing the limestone boulder, Justin set down his coffee and went back into the living room. Leigh heard several drawers open and close, and Justin came back with a handful of maps. He opened them and spread them out on the kitchen table and a couple counters.

“Did you see the sky at all?” he asked, scanning one map and then another.

“No.”

“Was it you in the dream?”

“I...I think so.” Now that Leigh thought about it, she wasn’t sure. Without having looked in a mirror, there was no way to know if it was her own body lying on the ground, or just her consciousness in someone else’s body. And it probably didn’t matter, as far as she could tell.

“How far ahead in time was it?”

“It wasn’t necessarily ahead at all. Time’s kind of irrelevant in these types of dreams,” Leigh explained.

Justin was tracing his finger up the Lake Michigan coastline on one map, then going to another and studying the topographical layout of a particular spot, then going to yet a third and checking local roads, campgrounds and parks, before moving back to the coastline on the first map again. He was making notes on the maps as he went.

“The firepit,” he asked her, “was the ground inside it sandy, or was it grey and dirt-like, like humus?

“I didn’t actually see inside the firepit, but the ground I could feel was sandy.”

“Yeah. That would explain all the pines. Could you smell the lake?”

“I’m not really sure now, thinking back. It was just a general feeling I had, that I was near a large body of water. It may have just triggered that smell in my head, not actually in my nose.”

“You said it felt like private land somewhere, not a public campground, right? It’s mostly public beaches to the south, getting more private as you head north. And you’re sure the water was big enough to be a Great Lake, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“What about the rock formation? Are you sure it was limestone, and not maybe a sand dune?”

“There was a lot of sand around, on the ground under the pines where I was laying. But the rock was...whiter and more solid than sand.”

Just then, Tony came in with his duffel bag over one shoulder and a bag of Coneys in the opposite hand.

“Tony!” Leigh shouted. She set her coffee mug down, and ran over and ‘glommed’ onto him.

“Uh, how’re you doin’? Good ta see you, too. I’m sure dere’s a good story behind dis, for over a nice glass ‘a wine....”

Leigh let go of Tony and went back to the table.

“And she has legs, too,” Justin said, gently ribbing Leigh.

“Uh, right. Have we found Reg yet?” Tony asked.

“We’ve been making progress,” Justin told him. “Leigh had a dream.” He handed Tony the translation of Leigh’s notes and showed him the maps and the notes he’d been making.

“Maybe we should wake Claire and if she knows if Reg bought any private land lately,” Justin suggested.

Karen had heard Tony come in and Leigh greet him, and was just coming into the kitchen to see what was going as Justin said this. “Land sales are public record,” she told him. “We can probably find that out online, without waking her. She probably needs the rest.”

Leigh stood again and rushed Karen, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“Tell her she has nice legs...that she HAS legs,” Justin suggested to Karen.

Karen looked at her husband and raised one eyebrow. “Uh, nice legs,” she told Leigh.

“Thank you.”

When Leigh let go of Karen, Karen bent over and patted Leigh on the knee.

“Anyone elts want any ‘a dese Coneys, before dey get cold?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, gimme one,” Justin said, holding out a hand.

Karen got a napkin and took one, too.

“So, are ya sure you was on da mainland an’ not an island?” Tony asked Leigh. “Rich people own houses on Mackinac, ya know.”

“Rich beoble own whole islands fo’ demselves,” Karen warned around a mouthful of Coney dog. She set down the rest of the dog and went to the living room. A minute later, she was back with a couple of spiral-bound map books. “Plat books,” she said, showing the others. “They show a section of land on each page, divided along property lines, and labeled with who owns the property.

“The thing is, Tony,” Justin said, “that we’re looking at places where there are huge limestone boulders or outcroppings, too.”

“Mackinac is pretty much all limestone,” Karen told them. Tony grinned smugly. “But then, so is a lot of the land in the northern L.P.” Tony’s shoulders sagged a little.

“What about Pictured Rocks, or the area up by your dig?” Justin asked. “He already knows that area a little bit.”

“Diff’rend lake,” Karen said around another bite of Coney dog. “Dat’s Superior. An’ id’s more granide up dere. ‘Canadian Shield.’” She was holding the Coney in one hand and flipping pages in a plat book with the other as she spoke. She stopped and brushed a splotch of bun and Coney sauce off the page.

“I’m gonna start a list of stuff we might need no matter where we go,” Justin told them, pulling a pad of note paper from a drawer. “If you think of something, just add it to the list.” Justin started writing... ‘Good 4wd, digging implements....’

“Restraints,” Leigh said. “As many different types as we can think of.”

“Right.” ‘Restraints–all types, man-catchers....’

Tony grabbed a beer and went to the living room. He opened his laptop and started a web search for “Morrison, Michigan.” He was hoping he might find property records. A moment later, the search came back with hundreds of thousands of hits. Tony started scrolling through them.

Master Naka wasn’t sure what it was that woke him. Maybe the rapid clicking of Tony typing on the keyboard, or the light filtering up the stairwell and under his bedroom door. He got up and opened the door, and listened carefully. He could hear voices downstairs. No one was being particularly loud; it was simply the combined sound of 4 voices speaking quietly.

He went downstairs and came upon Tony sitting in front of a laptop. “For what are you searching?” Master Naka asked, coming up behind Tony.

“Hopefully some property ownership records fer Reg,” Tony told him.

“Ah.” Master Naka continued on to the kitchen. He found Leigh, Justin and Karen poring over various types of maps. He was a little surprised that Frank, Terri and David weren’t up, as well. He began to prepare a pot of tea, and took the container of miso from the refrigerator to make soup for his breakfast.

Everyone jumped when Frank asked, “What’s up?” No one had seen him since he’d followed Leigh upstairs the night before.

“Leigh had one ‘a those dreams,” Justin told him, being the first to regain his composure. He hit the high points, that Leigh felt she was in the north part of the lower peninsula, maybe on the west side of the state, near a large body of water, on private not public land; that Tommy was there with her about to cut off her right leg; and that her left leg was already missing.

“Do you happen to know if Reg’s or Jamie’s or anyone’s families might have owned property anywhere up there?” he asked Frank.

“I’m up to result 50,000 out of 400,000,” Tony announced cheerfully from the other room.

“Maybe Phil would know,” Karen suggested. “A lot of the land on that side of the state is state parks, though.”

“Maybe the Nature Conservancy would know where there’s private land that fits what was in my dream,” Leigh suggested.

“Hard to say,” Karen said. “They do own some land in the state, and are in the process of buying or being gifted a couple pieces of property right now.”

“So, have you found him yet?” Leigh asked, looking at Frank.

“Found who?”

“Tommy.” She stared at him, waiting for an explanation for his disappearance. Nobody had seen him since before she’d fallen asleep for the CPD last night.

“Still looking at maps,” Justin told her, not realizing that she’d been asking Frank that question.

“As far as I know,” Frank told her, “neither Phil nor Reg own any property up there at all.”

“I’m gonna check under JJC and Jebidiah James Carter III,” Tony told them.

“Maybe you should look under Thomas Anderson, too,” Karen told him.

None of those searches brought up anything useful. There was nothing about Jamie since the 1980s, and there was nothing relevant about Tommy, either.

“Anyone checked fer new missin’ persons reports in nort’western Michigan in da past 24 hours?” Tony asked, annoyed that his searches weren’t producing the results he wanted.

“Most departments won’t take missing person reports until the person’s been missing at least 24 hours,” Karen reminded him. “It’s been barely 24 hours yet that Tommy’s been loose.”

The kitchen was getting a little crowded, with all the maps spread out and 5 people variously eating, drinking coffee, and looking at the maps. So the team finally moved the investigation out to the living room.

Justin, Karen and Leigh continued staring at the maps, trying to narrow their ‘search parameters.’ Tony scrolled through the hundreds of pages of web search results. And Master Naka and Frank sifted through the files, looking for commonalities among Frank’s old cases, clues that might pinpoint where Reg/Tommy/Jamie might hole-up.

Eventually, the effects of the adrenalin and the coffee began to wear off Leigh. She went upstairs hoping a shower would revive her.

Everyone was so busy, no one had seen Leigh come back down and go to the kitchen. At least, that was who they assumed it was opening and closing cabinets, bumping into the table, and dragging out a chair.

Wait....bumping into the table? Leigh was a lot more coordinated than that....

Justin got to the kitchen first, and found Claire standing beside a chair, looking confused. She looked bedraggled, and was wearing a robe about 5 sizes too big.

“Have some coffee,” Justin offered, pouring a cup and handing it to her. Her hand was shaking as she took the mug. “Why are you shaking?”

“Am I?” She looked from Justin to the mug, and wrapped her other hand around it to keep the coffee from splashing out.

Justin helped her into a chair. The others were filtering into the kitchen quietly or hanging out near the doorway, not wanting to startle the disturbed woman.

“Bad...bad dreams,” she told him. “I was dreaming I was a little girl again...and Reggie was chasing me around and around...somewhere in the forest...waving a stick at me. And then he caught me and hit me in the face with the stick...but...it wasn’t a stick...it was Amey’s arm....”

Claire’s voice sounded small and weak as she described the dream, like it had drained her simply remembering it. The Envoys exchanged glances. Reg was chasing his sister around in a forest? Might Claire have a clue to where Reg had gone, someplace from their childhood?

“Where was this?” Justin asked gently.

“I...don’t know. It seemed...familiar.” Claire laid her head on her arms and drew a deep breath. But instead of crying, she let out a long, slow sigh and raised her head again.

“I feel like I ought to be able to remember. But every time I reach out for it...” Claire stretched out her hand as if she were actually reaching for something, then jerked it back. “...it’s like reaching out for a hot stove. I...I should be able to get it...but I’m afraid.”

“I don’t know if you remember me,” Frank said, sitting down across from Claire. “I’m Dr. Muelder, and I’m a friend of your brother’s. I’ve been treating him while he’s been in the hospital. I think I could help you to remember, if you feel up to trying.”

She was still a little shaky, but she nodded ‘yes.’

“Good.” Frank held up a pen and began rolling it between his fingers, and Claire’s eyes were drawn to the movement. “Now, this won’t hurt at all. I’m just going to hypnotize you. It should help you to get past your fear. Just watch my pen. You’re feeling sleepy, like you just can’t keep your eyelids open any longer....”

Claire dropped off almost immediately, like she’d been doing this all her life. Of course, she may well have been. Reg had told them long ago that his sister had been in therapy most of her life. Justin caught her to keep her head from bouncing off the table, and Leigh and Karen helped get her positioned so she wouldn’t slump over or slip off the chair.

“Claire, you had a dream last night...” Frank started.

“I was scared...so scared....” The voice was Claire’s, but child-like, as if she were very young. It rose in fear, as if she were reliving the dream even as Frank mentioned it, and her breathing sped up.

“You’ll be OK. You’re going to step out of it now....”

“OK.” Her pitch went back down, and her breathing slowed again.

“Just look at it....”

“I don’t want to. I’m scared.”

“You only have to look at the scenery. No one else is there but you. Where are you?”

“We’re at the cabin. We stopped going there when we were really little.”

“Whose cabin?”

“Mommy’s. But we stopped going there.”

“Tell me about Mommy’s cabin. When did you stop going there? How old were you?” They knew that Claire was the younger sibling, and that she was about 7 or 8 when their mom died; so they hoped this would tell them how much Reg might remember about the place as well.

“I was this many.” Claire held up 4 fingers. “That used to be so much fun. We were so close to the beach. It was always cool, all summer long. And we’d swim. It was fun. And we’d camp out. That wasn’t fun.” She frowned.

“Why not?”

“Bad things. Too many bad things. Don’t want to think about it. Too bad. No body talk. Never talk about it, ever, ever, ever, ever. Don’t talk about it, don’t think about it, it never happened.” Her breathing sped up, and her voice began to rise again.

“What never happened?”

“The Bad Man. He came out of the woods when we were camping. We were camping and he made Mommy cry. I don’t know what he did to Mommy. Reggie wouldn’t let me see.”

“Did Reggie see?”

“I think so. And then we all had to eat dinner, and I didn’t want to.” She sniffled and pouted like a little child. “But Reggie said not to make the Man mad, and we had to like it. And then we never went there again, ever, ever, ever.” She sobbed and sniffled again, wiping her nose along her robed forearm.

“Can’t you get her more detached than that?” Justin hissed at Frank. He hated seeing women cry, and, even more, he hated not being able to do anything about it.

“I’m going to talk to someone else for a second, Claire, and you aren’t going to hear anything I say until I tell you to listen again. OK?” Frank said.

“OK.”

Frank turned to Justin. “Justin, she’s been doing this her whole life. I’m lucky I’m getting this much out of her. Are we done with the backseat psychology now?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted some specific info, and I don’t know if you’re getting to it. And I don’t like hearing women cry.”

“OK, Claire. I want you to listen again. You said that after the Bad Man came, you had to eat dinner. What did you have for that dinner?”

“Roast something. I didn’t like it. But Reggie said to pretend I liked it. Reggie pretended real good. Reggie kept saying I didn’t do anything wrong. But he said it so much I know I had done something wrong, but he didn’t want me to feel bad. He was doing that all the time. Reggie was like that. But I don’t like Tommy.”

Frank’s eyebrows went up ever so slightly in surprise. “You met Tommy?”

“He drowned my kitten.”

“When did that happen?”

“I got the kitten when I was six and I named it Mr. Fuzzit.” She sounded very proud.

“When did you meet Tommy?”

“That summer.”

“What summer?”

“At the cabin. I don’t like Tommy. He’s mean. He said he’d do me like Mr. Fuzzit if I ever told anyone.”

“When’s the last time you talked to Tommy?”

“A long time. I forgot about Tommy. I don’t like Tommy. Can I go home now?

“I’m going to count to four; and when I get to four, you’re going to wake up. When you wake, you’re not going to remember any of our conversation, and you won’t remember having any dreams. You’ll be ready to go to bed and have a nice dream. One...two...three...four.”

Claire woke and stretched. “I’m sorry, but feeling a little tired. I think I’ll go to bed now. I hope I have a really nice dream....” She stood and padded off to her guest room.

As soon as she was gone, the team crowded around Tony’s laptop and began searching for property in Claire’s name. They found a parcel on the narrow ribbon of land between Traverse Bay and Torch Lake.

“Oooo, near Camp Grayling.... Explosives....” Tony grinned.

They did a title search and found that Claire had inherited the property from her mother, who had inherited it from her parents.

Whatever had happened to Reg and Claire and their mother up there had happened sometime during the 70s. Tony ran another search looking for any unusual incidents in the area at that time, or anything that resembled Tommy’s or Jamie’s activities, before during and after. He found nothing.

“Now, Frank,” Justin said, “you were talking last night about this thing that possessed Jamie? And you kill it and it jumps to somebody else?”

“It picks someone,” Frank told him.

“What do you think about using a Sphere of Protection or Mental Shield against it?” Karen asked. “Do you think that might work, to force it out and prevent it from possessing someone?”

“You’d know that better than I do,” Frank said. “But from what I’ve seen when you use the Sphere, if that didn’t force it out of Reg, it would at least force Reg’s body to back away from you. We could use that to maneuver him to where we could catch him.”

“Did I not see in the weapons locker that you have ‘man catchers’?” Master Naka asked.

“Yeah. And they were strong enough to snare a zombi, so they should work fine on Reg,” Justin answered.

“I t’ink I oughta be able ta get my hands on a prayer book dat oughta help wit’ da demon possessin’ Reg,” Tony told them. He knew that, though the Church claimed it didn’t exist, there was an Exorcism Manual, because he’d caught a glimpse of it once in the Vatican library. If anyone else had access to it, it’d be Fr. Claudio. The old priest really liked Tony, and Tony figured he’d be able to get a copy from him. He began making a mental list of the other items he’d need for a proper exorcism, as he dialed Fr. Claudio’s cell number.

“I just want to make sure that, if we have no choice but to kill Reg, he doesn’t end up goin’ to Hell,” Justin said. “Is there any way to do that besides Confession? ‘Cause, I don’t think any prayer book will qualify you for that. We need to make sure his soul is shriven before he dies. Though, I’d rather keep him alive if we can.”

Tony was busy leaving a message for Fr. Claudio, so he didn’t answer Justin.

“So, Frank...you’ve fought this thing before. Are there any weapons that would help with this? You know, like holy items that could kill a demon?” Justin asked.

Frank looked at Leigh. “Well, we could try calling Dee and ask her to loan us her piece of the True Cross....”

Justin took a step back and grabbed for a chair. He dropped into it looking a little shell-shocked. “Wait...you mean it really exists?”

“We could always use this,” Tony suggested, holding up a small bottle rather reverently. It was blown glass, with a pewter seal of Vatican City affixed to the front. Over the cork was sealing wax stamped with the insignia of the Papal Seal.

Justin just stared. “Dude, you finally got an audience?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “Don’cha wish you’d been dere, too?”

Leigh covered the grin that started to spread across her face. That wasn’t entirely true, though Tony did get closer to the Pope than she’d been. Tony had been among the group of 9/11 survivors and rescue workers who’d gotten a group audience with the Pope when he was in New York. That’s where he’d gotten the holy water. He told her about it on the flight home a few days afterwards.

Justin grinned. “Well, that’s spiffy and all, but I was kinda hoping for something along the lines of the shotgun from ‘Constantine.’ Frank, do you think Phil and Audra and the new baby could be targets? Should we check on them?”

“Already covered. They’ve been assigned a protection detail.”