It was coming up on six months since my friend and former student of the Wiccan religion, Ariel Tanner, had been hideously tortured and finally, murdered by a sadistic killer. It was also approaching six months since I had stopped that killer from doing the same thing to an innocent little girl for the purpose of a twisted ritual sacrifice. To this day, no one had been able to determine what he had hoped to accomplish; perhaps fortunately, four 9mm slugs had seen to it that we probably never would. What we knew for certain was simply that his deranged mind had pushed him to mutilate, torture, and murder five women. Then, in the name of some perverse evil, kidnap a small child with the intention of doing the same to her. In stopping him, I had almost been separated from my own life that night in Wild Woods Park beneath a full, silver-veined moon. Had it not been for the marksmanship of my friend Benjamin Storm, a Saint Louis city homicide detective, I’m firmly convinced he would have succeeded. Ironically, Ben was the very reason I had become involved in the investigation to start with.

The vignette so forcefully appended to the end of the nightmare was another story entirely. I had no rhyme or reason for its cryptic display and wasn’t entirely sure I wanted any. Mutely, I wished for it to be an anomalous event that would never recur.

Shaking off the vivid remembrances that, in my opinion, couldn’t fade quickly enough, I gently tossed back the covers. Being careful not to wake Felicity, I let my feet touch the hardwood floor and drew in a sharp breath. A quick glance at the clock showed it to be 5:24-minus the phantom fifteen minutes, of course-which readily accounted for the fact that the electronic thermostat had not yet signaled the furnace to increase the comfort level in the house.

I quickly pulled on socks and sweats and then stuffed my feet into a pair of tennis shoes. Our English setter and Australian cattle dog both stirred as soon as they were convinced that I was up and moving about.