place and once more, Kelsey reappeared. This time, she pulled something out of

her bag. When her hand reappeared, it was wrapped around a nine mil Sig Sauer

P226. A gun which should be tucked inside the gun safe at her condo. In Tempe.

Twisting slightly to stay with the scene, I couldn’t stop my muttered, “What the

hell, Kels?”

Kelsey hated guns, but loved me, hence her agreement to keep a small gun

safe at her condo for my occasional visits. Guns were my version of Teddy Bears. I didn’t like being without one, so Kelsey eventually gave in and let me

keep one or two at her place when I was out of town.

The marines had uncovered a natural shooting skill, one I kept up even after

my discharge. I taught Kelsey a few basics, and the lessons had obviously stuck,

because she kept the barrel aimed at the floor, and her finger to the side of the

trigger. She crept toward the bedroom door, the gun steady in her two-handed grip.

Fully caught in the past, I rose from the bed to follow the image of the gun-

toting Kelsey through the bedroom door. Her image disappeared into a swirl of

disjointed memories. I stumbled down the hall, desperate to recapture the scene,

my pulse racing. Based on Kelsey’s actions, someone was about to make an appearance.

Near the front entryway, I hit pay dirt. She stood with her back to the wall,

the gun extended in front of her as she sidled closer to the door. Her eyes widened, fear racing across her face, as her grip loosened. Her inattention lasted

maybe one or two seconds, but that’s all it took for her to lose any advantage.

Her fear had to be bone deep to leave such a sharp memory behind.

I needed to get beyond the front door, because too many emotions occurred when people came and went, muddying the residual memories. Sure enough, the

ever-changing impressions swirled, and Kelsey’s image disappeared. Struggling

to find her, I worked my way through the front hall until a flash of pale hair behind something big near the living room caught my attention.

I drew closer. Kelsey faced off against a looming figure. Male, judging by the size. I noted the jeans, drab T-shirt, and heavy-soled boots for later reference as I worked my way around. I needed a face, but when I got in position I frowned in confusion. Like a channel just off center, his head and shoulders were

covered by a disturbing blur of static that created a lingering menace.

That was new. Maybe Kelsey’s fear was behind this unusual phenomenon?

Then my heart stopped as he moved his hands in a familiar, lightning-quick

disarm move until the gun was pointed at Kelsey. My emotions spiked,

fracturing my concentration, and the scene wavered. I fought for calm, scared to

lose what little control I held. Everything steadied. I sucked in a breath of relief, but it was too soon.

Kelsey’s emotions crested like a deadly undercurrent. Frantic, I struggled to

gather as much information as I could before it dragged me under. When her shock morphed to anger, it added a desperate edge to her movements. Her self-defense skills were rusty, but she kept him off balance. A quick strike knocked

the gun out of his hand and out of the scene. His efficient counterattack revealed

he was simply playing with her.

Judging by her rapidly encroaching panic, she knew it too. She began to back

away, her lips moving, her fear evident in the white lines around her mouth and

her fists clenched at her sides. The only indicator of her underlying fear were her

sidelong glances for escape.

Even knowing I could change nothing, instinct had me stepping closer so I could reach out and drag her to safety. My hand closed on empty air.

She disappeared.

Frustration boiled, and I spun around, frantic to find her again. Wisps of other memories circled, but I shoved through them. Rubbing at the dull ache in

my temples, the soft brush of forgotten cloth reminded me I still held her shirt.

Bunching it up, I pressed it to my face and dragged her scent into my lungs. Her familiar fragrance wrapped around me and stalled my rising frustration. The minute break gave me a chance to reclaim my focus.

I dropped my hands and looked around. It took precious time to work

through the layers of memories, but I found Kelsey on the floor, her attacker’s hand wrapped around her throat. Her fingers scrabbled at his tanned wrist, leaving behind bloody gouges. A bright red, hand-shaped mark covered one side

of her face, indicating she’d been hit at least once.

My anger joined her panic, increasing the emotional draw exponentially. It seeped through my mental barriers and sent me to a level I rarely experienced.

One where the lines blurred between my reality and the past.

Rough hands tightened around my throat, choking off my air. I clawed at the

phantom grip, as terror soared, buoying me above Kelsey’s emotional waves.