His expression said he didn’t believe me, but I had nothing in my hands, and my outfit wouldn’t conceal much, either. After another glare, he turned his back on me.

“Which exit do I take to get to Tampa?” he called out to the bar at large. “My damn nav system isn’t working here.”

That wasn’t unusual around these parts and I knew the answer, but I stayed silent, not wanting to risk another inadvertent touch by talking to him again.

I went out the bar door—and a harried-looking blonde ran right into me. She let out a yelp that I mentally echoed out of sheer frustration. After months of a spotless record, now I’d zapped two people in less than five minutes. At least Rude Dude had taken some of the extra voltage out of me so hers probably did feel like static electricity instead of mild electrocution.

“I’m sorry,” I said, backing away at once.

“It’s my fault.” She laughed, patting me in an apologetic way. “I wasn’t looking—”

I didn’t hear the rest of what she said. Images seared across my mind in varying shades of black, white, and gray.

I was in bed with my lover, our heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Afterward, I whispered that I was going to tell my husband I was leaving him the following weekend.

That wasn’t what made me stiffen, however. It was the next images that filled my mind, in full color this time, only hazy, as though seen through a fog.

I was in a thick, swampish area, staring in horror as my husband’s hands clamped around my throat. Pain exploded in my neck, blurring his image as I futilely scratched and clawed at his gloved hands. He increased the pressure while telling me he’d found out about my affair and exactly how he’d dispose of my body. The pain intensified until it seared its way down my entire body. Then, mercifully, it stopped, and I felt like I was floating away. My murderer stayed where he was, his hands still clamped around my throat, unaware that I was now looking down at him from outside my body. Finally, he let go. Then he walked over to where he’d parked the car, opened the trunk, and took out several items as though musing over which one to start with first . . .