See It Coming

By Brad M. Bucklin

It came to Edward in a flash, he was ejaculating at the time which made it all the more memorable. He was fifteen and in his vision saw himself standing by the sea watching seagull’s swoop over the waves. He was holding the hand of a beautiful woman with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. Up until that point the only girl he had held hands with was Deborah Buckley. But she had laughed into the phone when he asked her to go to the prom with him.

The vision only lasted a moment, then there were other more disjointed images he couldn't make anything of; bits of color, points of light. The intensity of the moment, the exquisite release had made him see these things, he was sure of it. He was a gangly thirteen year old, insecure about everything. This new experience was a surprising mystery of odd sensations. He thought it must be a normal occurrence, something that his brain cooked up as it spasmed through the onslaught of endorphins.

The images were over in a few short seconds, then there was a period of let down and the question; was that all there is? But the high he felt, the rush, had him hooked as it hooks every male that has ever lived. He was, of course, a teenager and vulnerable to addiction; luckily, he seemed to be addicted to the chemicals in his brain rather than those of a more sinister nature.

He felt guilt, he couldn't deny it, guilt that pleasure brings when raised in a society where pleasure is sinful. How could something so forbidden feel so extraordinary? How could God introduce such an exquisite feeling and not have it be sacred?

In junior high school Edward found himself isolated by his fathers reputation as a preacher and his mothers codling. The one or two friends that he had were on the fringe of his high school class and by associating with them, so was Edward. He would often sit on his front porch, frustrated, with few opportunities to do anything that was interesting or meaningful to him. On the other hand he found it difficult to determine what exactly was interesting or meaningful. Self gratification, with almost enlightening results, seemed his only true outlet and yet the guilt remained a problem.

He was closest to his mother who would have understood, or at least been supportive, but such an intense male oriented event was not something a teenager was going to discuss with their mother. And his father, on the rare occasion he would get to talk to him at all it was

about scripture, or the ways of sin. He often wondered how he had been conceived in the first place. So in order to assuage the guilt, every time he had the rush, the visions, he rationalized that there was a higher meaning to them; that God allowed such pleasure to exist so that we wouldn’t go wondering about it all the time. As Edward went through puberty he let the intensity, the pure ecstasy of it, fulfill him. He reasoned that once full he could then go about doing meaningful things like finding love, discovering what he was meant to do or to be in life. The problem was he never became full.

Over the next few years the visions grew in strength and scope. They would linger for minutes after the orgasm. Edward saw places and people as if he were next to them. Images that lasted milliseconds.

He developed a ritual to getting his climax and the prescience. When he first began it was as simple as hearing the song "Mellow Yellow."

He prepared himself by selecting an appropriate lubricant and stimuli. When he first started he often tried to simulate the way he thought the actual sex act would feel. He made love to a pillow and envisioned Catherine Deneuve.

His visions were intriguing and achieving them was certainly not unpleasant, but there was no way he could share such a thing with others, even his closest friends, if he had had them.

In the summer of his sixteenth year, Edward's parents sent him to a camp, believing he was socially retarded because he spent so much time in his room, they thought it would be good for him to mingle with other children his age.

He hated it. Habits are not easy to break and even though he shared a bunk house with three other boys, his isolation only seemed that much more pronounced when they teased him about his propensity for "humping" his covers.

At that time in Edward's life, sex was hard to ignore; while masturbation was something everyone did, no one admitted it. Ed felt totally incompetent in the mating ritual. It wasn't that he found girls hard to talk to, he just found it hard to get beyond friendship and into romance or sex. After two frustrating weeks at camp, he finally got the nerve to talk to Diane.

She was a dark haired beauty. At least he thought so, she was a bit rounder than most guys seemed to like, but he found it particularly alluring. Her lips were full and sensuous, her skin like down feathers. Although mad for her, he was too intimidated by her intelligence and grounded quality to give her an inkling that he was interested sexually.

Their eyes met a few times at dinner, then she shifted her seat so that she could see him better. Initially he felt very embarrassed, but hopeful that she wasn’t really looking at someone else.

After dinner she approached Ed and tried striking up a conversation.

"Uh.....umm, hi" he was a mess until she took his hand and walked him out into the night air.

"I noticed you sitting over there." She was being coy.

"Really, I noticed you too."

"I know, I noticed you noticing."

"I think you are very pretty." He blushed fire red.

"Thank you....what is your name?"

"Oh!, Ed, my name is Ed."

"I am Diane, Ed."

"I know...."

It was obvious that she liked Ed, but he was deep in the throws of hormonal overload. He knew explaining himself to Diane in any comprehensive way, especially his visions, would be difficult, so when the camp session ended he was relieved and sad. Relieved that he didn’t have to explain himself and sad the way one gets when that perfect relationship ends, at the perfect time. A sadness that liberates and makes everything alright, that reenforces life.

Over the next few years Ed thought often about Diane and what could have been. All the while his visions grew in complexity and nuance. He would write down what he saw which sometimes took up to an hour after just seconds of insight. These mirages became another life for Edward. He looked forward to them as an eager child looks forward to candy, anticipating the people he would see and the places he would be transported to. It was hard not to want to share these experiences.

It rained a lot the summer of 74, but the mixture of rain and sun had given Edward the perfect tan. A tan he never achieved again. He worked as the water skiing instructor and boat driver for a small resort on Lake George. She was from Montréal and at least three or four years older than Ed. She made no bones about the fact that she found him attractive. In fact his uneasiness seemed to make her even more interested. Her short brown hair framed a face that he considered beautiful, but his friends said was cute. Her voice carried the lilt of a French accent which held him prisoner with every word.

She was as uninhibited as he appeared inhibited. Her attitudes towards sex were liberated and experimental. He could only follow her lead as a willing captive.

After dinner one night in mid-August, they went down to the beach. The sand had been imported from Malibu at great expense to simulate a beach in California but It was tiny, only stretching between the boat house and the edge of the property maybe fifty feet or so.

Edward and the French guest brought a blanket and a bottle of wine. They planned to watch the moon glint off the water and talk. Making love was a natural progression and with the water gently lapping at the shore and moon overhead, he had his first sexual union.

He lost himself in the heat of passion. The practice he had with the pillow paid off some, but it was natural instinct that took over. Wrapped in the blanket, their skin smooth with sweat and remnants of sun tan lotion, they joined. Edward was a bit self-conscious, inhibited, thinking that any moment someone might walk by and expose their love making, but it didn't seem to bother her at all.

Initially, he thought that it must have been nervousness, or years of anticipation, but when he finally climaxed, releasing the tension and the breath into her, he saw nothing, no vision, no prescience.

The mixture of joy and disappointment puzzled the Canadian. She thought that she had done something wrong, but how could he explain it to her, she would not have understood. He told her that he was more than satisfied, that he enjoyed it tremendously, but perhaps his expectations had been too great.

What had happened? How could something so enjoyable end without so much as deja vu, a minor vision? It was important that he discover if it was a fluke and aberration so he dived in passionately, she giggled and pushed at him.

"You impetuous boy." She said.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I think I do." She laughed and rolled away from him.

"No....Yes, I suppose you do. I have to confess, it is my first time."

"Yes. It was fine, no need to impress me." She stood up wrapping the blanket around her.

"Come." She held out her hand. "Let us go where there is less sand."

She led him to her room where her girlfriend was asleep. They quietly climbed in her bed and ducked under the covers.

The second and the third time, still nothing. Not a glimmer, now he was afraid that he had lost the ability all together. He tried not to panic. He had become a man, he had enjoyed carnal knowledge, but the gift was nowhere to be found.

In a way he felt relief, the pressure to make sense of the images was gone, the burden had been lifted. On the other hand he felt ordinary and powerless. His Canadian stayed a week, then he was once again left to his own devices. Being young and of a particularly sexual nature, it wasn't long before the urge came back. In fact it was the very next day.

With self gratification the visions returned but now he knew he could not experience the union between a woman and the visions at the same time. He was not aware, at that moment, just how high that price was going to be.

Edward was overjoyed when he reconnected with Diane while attending a church rally and conference that fall. They found each others growth stimulating in more ways than one. Ed was totally at ease with her and over time began sharing many things that he could not even share with his closest male friends or his parents. One day the subject turned to sex.

"How many girls have you gone all the way with?" Diane queried.

Edward was shocked and embarrassed. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious, that's all."

"It's none of your business." He looked away.

"You're a virgin!" She giggled.

"I am not." He struggled with his growing sexual feelings for Diane and the need to be seen as a potential sexual partner, but he had no intention of telling her about the Canadian or his visions. The words just came out like he was possessed. The story ended and Diane was silent, he panicked and tried to back peddle.

"Of course, I don't even know her last name and I was younger, now things are different, I....I..."

She did not laugh, she did not recoil. She looked at him with her large brown eyes and asked.

"What kind of visions have you had?"

Had he told her about his visions? He couldn't even remember. This was not good, now he was sure that she would think he was some kind of nut case and never want to see him again. But there was a curiosity in her voice, not repulsion. Her interest wasn't forced or fake. She really wanted to know.

"I have been seeing visions, yes, but I am not one of those psychic types."

"And what type is that?" a hint of defiance in her voice.

" You know, vegetarians, incense burners."

"Oh, those types. It is obvious that you're not one of those." She smiled coyly. "You know, I always dreamed of being clairvoyant. I used to go from psychic to psychic trying to learn, but it was hopeless, I just don't have the gift. Here you are and you don't even realize you have it."

"Believe me sometimes it's not all it's cracked up to be. One time I had this vision of a bus coming right at me, like it was going to run me over, then a couple of days later I saw this guy step off the curb just as a bus was barreling down the street, I yelled to him and he stepped back just in time."

"That is amazing. You actually saved a persons life."

"I dunno, I was at the right place at the right time, anyone else would have done the same."

"But you saw it and it happened. That is cool." Diane was very impressed.

"I guess." Ed was soaking up the attention, but began feeling the guilt.

"Listen, you can't tell anyone about this, alright?"

"Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me." She winked. Ed was not reassured.

Over the next year or so, he concentrated on his studies. Diane would come around to talk and hear about his latest revelations. She would look for connections, analyze each detail, becoming a passionate participant in every vision. She told him that he could look into the future, or the past, or even into the minds of other people. She wanted desperately to be a part of it.

Ed was having lunch with his friend Harry, a person whose body appeared much shorter than it really was. His long torso seemingly twice as long as his legs. He was a nerd in the classical sense. Yet his affable nature made for good company and offset the discourses on physics and mathematic formulas. Edward had known him from junior high where they suffered through the humiliation of being part of the out crowd together.

Ed watched as couple entered the restaurant, all of a sudden he realized that he knew everything they were about to say and do. He thought he was hallucinating, but for the fact that he remembered exactly when he saw the event, and naturally, what he was doing.

Hey Ed?, Where did you go?" Harry was looking at him with his eyes wide and head cocked to the side.

"I, I, just remembered something. Sorry." He looked over again at the couple, but the feeling, the knowing was gone.

Now he was getting a little spooked. There was definitely some strange shit going on.

He told Diane about it and she was beside herself, screaming "I told you so, I told you so." They spent days talking about it. Diane tried to convince Edward that he had to be more scientific about his approach.

"Scientific?" he queried, "about masturbation?"

"This is about something far greater than self gratification."

Edward was torn, how could he make the act into something so clinical? Perhaps, on the other hand, it could be a way to counter the consistent guilt he felt.

For the pure science of it, and as a clinical examination of the phenomenon, he set up a regimen, with input from Diane, a schedule of twice a day...was that too much, he wondered? It was an experiment after all, and if he could really see the future, the more he could see the better it would be. He set his mind to the task, even as his feelings for Diane grew. The whole issue of masturbation was, again, becoming difficult for him to share with her.

Edward tried to go about his normal life. Diane would visit regularly to help write things down and he became increasingly dependent on her assistance.

Often he would fantasize about her while doing the act and this began to gnaw at him. He felt he was violating some secret trust they had between them, even though the subject hadn't come up. But then well into the third month things took a weird turn.

"Can I watch?" Diane stood before Ed her head tilted a bit to the left, determination in her voice.

"No." It came out of him like a bullet. He knew that she would take it the wrong way. He knew that she would think that he had absolutely no interest in her, sexually, but the truth was too hard for him to express.

"Perhaps in a few more weeks." He backed away shyly. She smiled wanly and left. That was the first time he just couldn't finish.

After a while a pattern began to emerge. The morning sessions were much more vivid and productive, while the afternoons almost always had to do with some detail, an item or a place. As Edward progressed, he learned that by focusing his attention, he could get more specific images or information.

It was not an easy thing to do and took a lot of energy. He found that the second before the moment of release, if he looked at something or thought of someone he could send myself, his thoughts, mind, soul, or whatever and be there. He discovered this one time when standing by a window, at the moment of ecstasy, he looked out and saw an airline, it was one of those jumbo jets and must have just taken off. Suddenly he was in the plane. He saw the people, the flight attendants. He looked into their faces. It was the eeriest thing. For weeks, months, he told myself that he had imagined it because there was no way to prove that he actually saw into the plane.

Edward's feelings towards Diane continued to grow, and he was certain the experiment was to blame. His feelings became increasingly hard to put aside. They began effecting his "work." All the images he was gathering seemed useless. They didn't follow any particular pattern, so he had to ask himself, "What was the point?" It felt good to have both a relationship with Diane and the visions, but Diane was becoming more important. He thought about her incessantly. He was to the point where he didn't care if he ever pleasured himself again. He wanted the consequences of a truly sexual union with Diane, even if it meant he would never see another vision as long as he lived.

It had been hot and smoggy for a week. Edward's head was heavy, his eyes tired, he wasn't sleeping very well and was drained of energy. While he refused to take much stock in the images that appeared, still, he wrote the more vivid ones down. It was during that week he recorded a particularly startling scene. It was a Tuesday morning, a man was holding a woman by the throat while she dangled helplessly, her slim body writhing as she grabbed at his hand. He remembered the hand because it was large and un-calloused. The hair on the knuckles was black with some gray strands and a large ring of onyx and gold in the shape of a spider was on his ring finger. He saw the hand release the woman and kneel over her. Her face was so clear, so frightened, it gave him shivers.

On the 14th he saw a picture of the girl in the newspaper. It was buried on the third or fourth page. The article said that she was killed a few days before and that they were looking for a sexual predator, fearing that this may not have been the first. Like a fool he told Diane about his vision.

"You have got to go to the police." She said, her full mouth set, her hazel eyes intense.

"What would I say, hey I was having an orgasm and saw the girl being murdered. They would lock me up." Edward retorted.

"You don't have to tell them how you saw it. They use psychics all the time."

"I am not a psychic."

"What are you then?"

"I just saw something..." She stared at him, arms crossed. "They wouldn't believe me."

"Don't you think it is your duty to do something about this evil person?"

"I don't know if I have enough information to help them. What if they ask me about my 'abilities'?"

"Look, all you are going to do is tell them what you saw while in 'trance' okay. It is sort of a trance isn't it?"

"I suppose." Edward fidgeted and tried to counter with some more reasons that it was not a good idea to expose himself. Diane would have none of it.

He was standing in front of the police station before he knew it and Diane walked him in like he was a lost dog. She told the person at the front desk that Edward might have some information regarding the recent rape and murder. He found his voice once they were escorted into a private room. There the officer was very polite, until Ed told him that he saw stuff while in a trance. Then they brought in the shrink. He was an hour asking Ed a bunch of psychological questions. When he was done he nodded to the officer and left. After that the police started writing things down. He told them about the woman, what he remembered about her and what she was wearing. Then he told them about the hand, and the ring. They were very excited about the ring. They took pictures of Ed’s hands and asked if he owned a ring.

"It's just procedure." The officer said. "We have to follow every lead, suspect everybody."

Edward informed the officer that he hated wearing rings and that his hands looked nothing like the ones he saw. Diane told them that Ed saw things all the time, but that this was the first thing of significance. She did not elaborate, and they didn't ask, just handed him a card and told Ed to call them if he "saw" anything else.

Unfortunately he did.

The same hand was holding a rope which was wound around the throat of a young woman, about 20. She was turning purple and desperately clawing at the hand, scratching, gasping. That was the sense of it. But what useful information did he get from the vision? Nothing, not a location, a time. He only saw the girls face for an instant. Dark, short hair, olive colored skin.

He knew that if he kept seeing such disturbing visions with no way of explaining them or stopping any actual event that they may represent, then he would rather not see them at all.

It was only natural that he questioned what in the world made him see what he saw. Why was he seeing through the eyes of this guy?

Diane became obsessed, every day she scoured the newspapers for more news of the Murderer. Every day she woke Ed with the cold, smooth, fragrant lotion. But Ed couldn't stand it, he was in love and knew that her intentions had nothing to do with reciprocal feelings. It became a chore, a ritual without pleasure, without feeling. It produced nothing. It made him distant and Diane frustrated.

"I want to make love to you." Ed looked into Diane's eyes.

"I want to too, but there are more important things to think about." It had taken a lot for him to let her know how he felt.

"Making love is counter productive to producing the visions and finding this killer." She kissed him sweetly.

Over the next few weeks, the situation with Diane did not improve. She continued to refuse any sexual intimacy and Ed was becoming angrier and more obsessed with it. Diane was angry and frustrated that the police didn't seem to be doing anything, then the murderer struck again.

Ed had seen it, the slow dance of the poor girl as the attacker swung her, drawing the cord tighter and tighter around her neck, but Ed said nothing. There was nothing he could do, no way to stop it. His cursed visions were useless to the victims, the police, himself. There was no reason for him to feel responsible for, or have anything to do with, the investigation. He was just trying to live his life. But his silence became suspect and when he finally told Diane her emotional outburst wounded him.

Ed had always relied on a few powerful stimulations to arouse himself, but now they seemed useless. All he could think about was Diane, and now Diane had pulled so far away, that thinking about their relationship was painful. Even while love tugged at him, sometimes he was not sure if the longing for her wasn't the most important part of the relationship. Now with her dissatisfaction and even further distancing, he tried to put the relationship out of his mind. Fantasies had always been a part of the process for him, but thinking about their sexual unions was not fantasy, it was remembered intimacy and it produced no insights, no cognition.

"I am in love with you." He said it over a lunch salad. Diane looked at him, her big eyes blinking, her mouth half open, fork poised.

'I...I...love you too." It was matter of fact by rote response that meant she didn't really know what to say.

"I think we should go away together, on a trip." He searched her eyes for a glimmer of affection, of agreement.

"Going away on a trip would be nice, but..."

"I think it would help me get my visions back." He appealed to her obsession for his gift rather than for himself. She chewed a moment, looked at him and chewed some more.

"I really don't know how to take this. Where would we go?"

"I was thinking California."

"California?"

"It's warm there, this time of year, and we always said we wanted to go someplace warm in the winter. I think the weather would have a positive effect on me." He wasn't sure why he wanted to go to California, only that it was far, far away from the cold and dismal city.

"I think it is a good idea to get away for a bit, but California?" Why don't we try a weekend getaway to Vermont? I don't think being too far away from the crime investigation would be productive.

The next weekend Ed and Diane drove up route 87, then over to Rutland, where they had some friends who made reservations for them at a bed and breakfast. Deserted at that time of year they had the whole house pretty much to themselves.

In the confines of their room, looking out on the cold sunshine without regret, their lovemaking was soul wrenching. Coming together like two columns of water merging into one. The hypnotic sway of her body under his, the pulsing of his thrusts into her, the gentle gasps of pleasure and the merging of sweat that became the glue holding their bodies in place, slipping and twisting. The hot liquid, turning cold, shivering with each climax, like two cypress trees in the wind.

He came, she came a dozen times, more maybe, but all Ed saw was her beautiful face, cupped in his hands, he consumed her with kisses. He wanted to see nothing, he begged not to see, because if he did then reality would come crashing in. It would be back to the clinical, the rote and he could not fathom that after being on the other side. They looked into each others eyes, felt each others breath and spooned together on the big bed with quilted down comforters and pristine sheets. Every day the bed was made and only moments later a shambles. They made love but sometimes did not climax, having no need to relinquish the pureness of their touch with any release, but to have it go on, slowly dissipating into their dreams as they slept curled into one another, damp body on damp body.

On the fourth day Diane stood by the window looking out onto a snow covered meadow, her silk nightgown glowing with the sun, silhouetting her form. She took Ed's breath away.

Then he said the words that changed everything. Coming up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, she leaned her head back into his chest.

"I love you. will you marry me?" The words were a monumental truth. She caught her breath, turned and kissed him, but didn't speak.

"You are what is important to me." She stroked his face but her expression had changed. She looked at him with determination. The same determination he had seen when she dragged him to the police station.

"We came here so you could see, so you could clear your head and help those poor girls."

"There is nothing I can do, what I see are useless tidbits, mere moments that make little sense in relationship to the whole." Ed sunk back into the bed.

She handed him the lotion. "You have to try." Suddenly the idea of self gratification was abhorrent. The only erotic image that came to him was her face, the bare line of her side from breast to pelvic bone. He could not fathom doing anything without her. He asked her what he should do, she smiled.

"Let me help." He suddenly saw that he had not only relinquished his heart to her but the destiny of his visions, his unusual gift, his sexuality.

"Will you marry me?" She looked down, then up, just missing his eyes, the gesture told him all he needed to know.

"We can't think about us right now. There are lives at stake."

"But how are these lives my responsibility? It is the Police's duty to track these criminals. I had a few brief visions, and who's to say they were true?"

"You have a moral responsibility, to find out for sure."

"To tell you the truth, I don't think I can do it anymore. It is just not in me. I want to make love to you, I want my life to be about us."

"Our lives are never about us." She pulled away from him. He wanted to reach out and stroke her neck, relieve the tension he saw building in her muscles.

"If we can do something to help others we have to do it."

"Don't the philosophers say to look to yourself first, help yourself, then you will be ready to truly help others."

What she said next struck him deep in the pit of his stomach, making his knees weak and his ears roar.

"This was never about us." The words were sterile, cold. "I cannot marry you because I don't love you." He was like a pane of glass being struck by a hammer.

"I don't believe you." Was all he could say. He was deep in denial.

"Don't make this harder than it is. You have to realize that your gift is a very powerful thing."

"You.... us....all this was what, because you were attracted to my gift?" She collected her things, not looking at him while she talked about how their relationship was significant and that she liked him a lot, that there was never any doubt in her mind that they shared the same ideals until now. That turning his back on those girls was too much for her. Ed was numb and didn't hear ninety percent of what she was saying.

Knowing that Diane didn't love him, made the trip home almost unbearable. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down and screaming. Ed knew that continuing to search for visions would at least make her stick around, yet did he want their relationship to continue under those circumstances? The thought had crossed his mind that he would have the chance to win back her heart, if not the alternative was unbearable, to lead his life without her.

Ed was exhausted so Diane drove. The weather was cold and clear, but the forecast was for flurries later that night, so it was only prudent to get home before the snow fell. Diane drove excruciatingly slow. Ed tried to doze but only succeeded in getting a crick in his neck.

Home at last, all he could do was think of his bed and the warm down comforter. But it was not to be. The police were waiting, they hadn't had a break in the case and the holidays had only seen an anxious and concerned citizenry become even more so.

He told them that he hadn't had any more visions. They weren't very kind after that, they did a very untidy job of searching his apartment and called him a few names before threatening him with incarceration if he decided to leave town before this case was solved.

Diane spoke up. "Don't worry, there is something we haven't tried yet."

Ed looked at her, she shot back a look at him before smiling at the detective.

Outside the station Ed pulled her aside. "What were you talking about in there?"

"We need to cool off for a while, step back from each other."

Now he was angry. "I don't understand."

"Our being together doesn't work. I think we should be free to see other people."

Ed couldn't see straight, he felt like he was going to pass out right there in the middle of the street. Then his stomach lurched.

"I'm sorry." The words barely reached his ears. He watched in a haze as she walked down away.

As weeks grew into months Ed began to feel the absence of intimacy with Diane as a festering boil beneath his skin. He started resenting her, hating her for being so selfish, for not loving him. Every night he went to sleep alone he thought about her, obsessed over her and returned to self gratification that wasn't gratifying at all. All the while the murder case dragged on. Newspapers reported having one suspect after another in custody, then releasing them due to lack of evidence, or because of an airtight alibi. The police gave few details of the crimes, but Ed was beginning to get a sense of the murderers motivation. He viewed women as inconsequential, as mere objects to be toyed with and eliminated, like a disposable utensil.

Ed's own feelings grew darker. While he knew he would never actually harm another person, he could, in an abstract way, see the killers intent and even understand it. There was a need to dominate the women that he attacked, because he felt they possessed more control than he did. At the same time this insight came, Ed began seeking harsher and harsher images for his fantasies. They fueled his climaxes and once again the intensity began to grow, until one day an image stuck in his mind and burned there. The same man he had seen in his previous visions was standing over the body of a dark haired woman, eerily, the woman looked a lot like Diane. But what seemed the most significant was that he could see curtains blowing from an open window, and through the window he saw a street sign which said Addison and fifth.

The police kept in touch with Ed, but they were invariably condescending and crude; still believing that he must have something to do with the crimes, so he debated long and hard whether he should call them with this new vision. Finally, he picked up the phone.

Tracy Menendez was found, barely alive in a house at Addison and fifth. Ed continued to have visions, but It was a description by Tracy of the man who had attacked her, that made it possible for them to catch him.

Diane called Ed after hearing the news about the arrest. The police had said that an anonymous tip had been responsible for Tracy's rescue, but Diane had suspected it was Ed. More than suspected, really, she had counted on it.

"I love you." She whispered in Ed's ear, as they lay spent, side by side. Ed looked at her for a moment and shook his head. "I know, but if you ever do that again, I'll....I'll."

"You'll what?"

"I'll kill you." He smiled, she laughed, they kissed a long, deep kiss that ended in a sigh.