Remmy tried to hide her smile, clearing her throat instead. "Hi, Roman. How are you?"

"I'm great!" He turned to Matt, setting the steaming coffee in front of him. Turning back to the brunette, his smile returned full force. "Can I get you something?"

"Just water, Roman, thanks." She gave him a polite smile. The boy scampered off, leaving Remmy and Matt alone.

"I think that kid has a crush on you," Matt says, fully amused.

The brunette rolled her eyes with a nod. "I know. He's a nice guy, but damn."

Though amused, Matt wanted to get back to the reason they were meeting. Remmy recognized the change in the man's countenance immediately. Taking a careful sip of his drink, Matt wrapped his hands around the large mug. "You never knew my sister, huh?"

Remmy shook her head, not surprised by the question, and certainly not the topic. "No. I just met her the one time, when she was kind enough to give me a ride into town." She waited, sitting back while Roman set a large glass of ice water before her, a lemon slice anchored on the rim. "Thanks, Roman." The boy hung around, bouncing from foot to foot.

"Uh, Remmy?" he said, excitement and nerves making his voice slightly breathy.

"Yes, Roman?"

"We kinda got interrupted when I came into the store the other day." He glanced over at Matt. He was going to tell this older guy to back off!

Remmy searched her mind, then nodded. Right, Detective Cowan had come in and saved the day. "Right. I remember."

"Yeah, so I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go to the movies. With me."

Remmy groaned inwardly, but smiled up at the anxious waiter. "Sure, Roman. We can go as new friends, okay?" she said, putting slight emphasis on the word friends.

"Friends. Right, yeah, okay." He grinned, nodding excitedly. He could work with friends. He'd make her fall in love with his wit and nice car. Finally getting the answer he wanted-kind of-Roman headed off back to work.

"Anyway," Remmy said, slightly annoyed at the bold move of the kid, she turned her attention back to Julie Wilson's brother. "Just the one time."

Matt studied his mug, running a thick finger around the rim. He was obviously troubled by something. "I don't mean to be rude, Remmy, I think you're a nice girl, but I'm sorry, I just don't believe Julie would have given you a ride." He looked up at her, green eyes cloudy with various emotions. Remmy couldn't quite dissect what they were. "It's just not like her."

"well, Matt, if she didn't give me a ride, which she did, how do you surmise I know what I know?" Remmy's voice was kind and soft. She knew all this was crazy, hell, she thought it was crazy.

"I don't know. What's to say anything you've said is even true? You said they're visions, right? At Remmy's nod, he continued. "What proof, what concrete proof is there that they're real?"

Remmy shrugged, sipping from her water. "Well, I guess the day Julie comes home and tells her story, we'll know."

Matt studied her, amazed at just how beautiful the girl's eyes were. He hadn't noticed that at the police station. "You think she's alive?" He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. Yes, he thought the whole thing was far too hocus pocus for him, but for some very strange reason, he felt a sense of peace around Remmy, like he could feel his sister, somehow. If he believed in this stuff, and if he were willing to go there, he'd almost swear Julie's spirit was with the girl sitting across from him.

"Why don't you tell me about her?" Remmy suggested, reaching across the table and gently touching Matt's hand. She could see the war within him, as well as the pain.

Matt glared up at her. "Who's to say you won't use what I tell you-"

"Matt," Remmy said, her voice soft, but understanding. "Just talk to me. As a human being."

Matt nodded, looking into his cup. The time since Julie had gone missing had been the most painful of his life. Even losing both his parents couldn't compare to losing his baby sister. "My son is struggling with this every day," he said, almost too soft for Remmy to hear. He smiled sadly. "See, we lost his mom when he was just a little guy, so Julie kind of stepped in, you know?" his tortured eyes raised, meeting Remmy's unflinching gaze. If she knew something, or were responsible for this, could she truly look me in the eye like that? No remorse? No guilt? Just look me in the eye like nothing?

"I feel that your sister is a really great lady. I mean, hey, she stopped and gave me a ride and I didn't even have my thumb out there anymore. Shit, I'd been walking for half the day, and no one, I mean no one would stop. Then poof! There she was." Remmy's grin was blinding.

"She was always so giving that way. Always thinking of others first. You know, she was going to take my son for the week. Man, they loved each other. Skylar looks up to her like you can't believe. Dad? Dad, who?" They both laughed at that, Remmy charmed.

"Don't talk about her in the past tense, Matt." As she studied his eyes, so much like his sister's, she felt a surge go through her, a determination like she'd never felt before. "I will bring her home, back to you. I swear it."

Matt smiled, nice and big. For some reason, he believed her. He nodded, and in that moment, felt a connection to Julie that was stronger than ever. "So," he said, clearing the emotion from his throat. "You wanted to know about my sister?"

Chapter 12.

Grace held the phone to her ear, listening as her heart pounded in her chest. The detective in Beaumont County prattled off the details of their missing case, which was two years cold: Pamela Beecham, age 46, snatched from her driveway at nine-thirty at night, after she'd come home from having drinks with a male friend. Just prior to, Pamela had filed charges against her second husband, claiming he had started stocking her again, as he'd done right after the divorce, eighteen months before. Pamela lived alone, her only child, a son, grown and going to college in another state.

Next, Grace spoke with Detective Ron Piltzer of Daycum County, about a case that was nearly eight months old: Roxie Carmichael, 41, married for more than twenty years with three children. A stay-at-home mom, Roxie had disappeared during a drive home from a cousin's wedding, which she'd attended by herself, as her husband, Mack couldn't get the time off work, and her children were all in school. Roxie's minivan had been found at a truck stop thirteen miles from town.

There had been no trail left in either case, no evidence, just simply a matter of both women disappearing off the face of the earth. Unlike Beecham, Roxie had no enemies, no one at all for the police to look at. The ex-husband in Beecham's case had been grilled time and time again, but never enough evidence to link him. Just like Julie Wilson's case.

Grace sat back in her chair late in the day, all her phone calls made, the information she'd absorbed rushing around in her brain like a whirlwind. The three counties covered only a twenty-mile radius, not very much, and something that a single perp could easily cover. Grace sat at her desk, the pictures she'd downloaded from the system lying side by side, all three women. She eyed them with drawn brows, trying to make some sort of link, something, anything.

Julie was the youngest, at only 28 years old. She was a very attractive woman with short, blonde hair and a bright, friendly smile. From what they'd been told, Julie was widely liked by both faculty and students, and had many friends within the community of Woodland. She was active in the community, had worked with Habitat for Humanity two summers in a row, and was very close to her brother and nephew. Parents dead, the few living relatives were scattered across the country.

Pamela Beecham had been twice divorced, the second one quite messy, as the ex had been a short-haul trucker, and a vicious drunk with a mean temper. Pamela, a dental assistant for more than fifteen years, liked the drink herself, often times found in the local bar, or drinking heavily with friends. Volatile personality, though from friends and family, a kind, generous spirit. She was 46 years old, and was beginning to show her age from a difficult life with two difficult men. Hair, once dark brown, was now streaked with gray, and the lines around brown eyes gave away her age. Not unattractive, but certainly not in the spring time of life, either.

Grace's gaze moved on to Roxie Carmichael. The 41 year old housewife was cute with pixie-cut red hair and a cherubic face. Her body, though slightly heavy, was not unattractive. Her blue eyes twinkled, and according to her husband and children, she was a kind and loving woman, who belonged to the local church ladies' group. She selflessly took her two sons back and forth to soccer practice and her daughter to ballet.

The detective brought a hand up, a single finger tapping on her chin. She was trying to draw any sort of parallel to the three women, and their cases. Her gut was telling her that they were connected, even though the circumstances of their lives and disappearances were different: one had been taken from the parking lot of her job, the other from her own home, the third from a random truck stop, which the family insists she never would have stopped at.

"Talk to me, ladies," Grace murmured, eyeing all three women again. "Talk to me."

Remmy sat on her bed, where she'd been fore the better part of an hour, looking at the picture Matt Wilson had given her. It was a photo taken last year of Julie for her school picture, which was put into the school's year book. The five by seven gave a wonderful shot of the blonde teacher, her smiling face and twinkling green eyes captivating to Remmy.

She and Matt had sat and talked at the coffee house for more than three hours, and she found the man was sweet, and a brilliant mind. She wondered if Julie was like him. She knew the siblings were close, and part of her was envious of that, as she'd never had that. Especially since Monica had been gone for so many years. All the same, sitting and talking with Matt, earning about Julie, it had made the brunette want to help even more. As she stared at the photograph, looking into Julie's eyes, she felt the connection deepen.

Remmy decided to try something, lying back on the bed and stretching her body out, getting comfortable. She laid the picture, face-down, on her chest and began to breathe deeply, feeling her body and mind relax. Closing her eyes, she took in several deep, cleansing breaths, allowing her lungs to fully expand, her the full rise and fall of her chest slow and measured. A hand reached up, covering the picture as she felt it begin to slip.

As her mind began to explore the darkness behind her eyes, the picture almost seemed to take on a weight of its own, pressing into her, a comforting weight. Images began to flicker, like a light bulb, tapped into existence from impatient fingers.

A field. Flowers, purple against the green of their stems and the blue of the sky. Soft, flowing movement from an unseen breeze. Fresh air, cool wind.

Just ahead in the endless field stands a figure, her dress flowing around her legs, unseen by the height of the flowers. The figure, blonde hair golden against the bright colors of the day, stands with her back to Remmy, though she turns her head slightly, almost putting her in profile.

Remmy feels compelled to walk toward the figure, her bare feet crunching in the rich soil below them, though she barely notices, her focus solely on the figure. She knows it's Julie, can feel it. As she gets closer, she can see the design on Julie's dress, the way the material hugs her hips, upper back and shoulder bare.

Julie begins to turn, her eyes wide and frightened when she spies Remmy, not twenty feet behind her. The brunette raises her hands in supplication. "I won't hurt you," she said, voice soft, whispered on a dream. "I'm Remmy. I'm here to help you."

Julie turns to fully face Remmy now, fear still in her eyes, but there is also curiosity. "Remmy?" she whispered.

Remmy nodded, trying to give the blonde her best smile. "I'm Remmy."

Julie moaned softly, sleep beginning to fade as the ache in her forehead drew her brows together. She could feel the cement against her buttocks and upper shoulders again, her body sore screaming to be able to move. Dark blonde brows draw even more, something echoing throughout her mind, bouncing unbidden into her thoughts.

Green eyes open. "Remmy."

Part 6.

aWhoas Remmy?a Julie was startled by the question. She scanned the darkness, sensing Pamelaas presence across the scant space. aWhat?a aRemmy. You said that name. Who is that?a Julie thought for a moment, trying to clear her head, which was pounding. She cringed at the feel of dried blood on her forehead and temple. She thought about the question, then the name, barely remembering having spoken it. aI donat know. I think I was dreaming.a aI canat wait till I die,a Pamela murmured with a heavy sigh. aThen I can actually sleep in a goddamn comfortable bed.a She snorted derisively. aBut then, that bastard will probably put me in a pine box and Iall have an eternal headache from the hard wood under my head.a Julie didnat respond for a moment, not sure what to make of Pamelaas morbid attempt at humor. aYou shouldnat say things like that, Pam,a she said, her voice soft in the darkness. aBad karma.a Pamela snorted again. aHoney, I apparently already royally pissed someone off in this life. Or the last.a Julie was quiet, wondering the same, herself. aTell me about your son,a she finally said, needing to get focused on something positive before she allowed the dark fingers of despair and depression to truly wrap around her throat, constricting it to cause a sting behind her eyes.

Pamela sighed. aNot much to tell. Patrick was going to school in Austin, Texas. He wanted to be a teacher and a coach. He was in his third year last I talked to him, so,a she shrugged the best she could, anchored to the wall. aI hope he finished.a She was silent for a moment, picturing her handsome son in her mind. Her smile was small and bitter. aHe looked so much like his dad. Always hated that fact. Has his dadas brains, too. Good kid.a aWere you close?a Julie asked, feeling wistful as she thought of Skylar.

aSometimes. Again, he is his fatheras son.a Julie could hear the sadness in Pamelaas voice, no matter how much she tried to hide it. aDo you miss him?a The silence spanned so long, Julie thought Pamela wasnat going to answer. Finally, barely audible, her response.

aOf course.a aAre you okay, Pam?a A long, drawn-out sigh. aPeachy keen.a aWhereas Roxie?a aWhen he dumped you back in here, he swapped.a Julie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, remembering what shead been forced to endure over the past two days, picturing their frail cell-mate going through the same thing. She took mental inventory of her body, noting that her sex was still burning, a slight pulse clenching and unclenching. She wasnat as uncomfortable as she had been, but still wasnat ready to go out dancing any time soon. aHow often does he do that?a aWhat? Wine and dine?a Pamela said with a snort. aLet me put it to you this way a if I ever get out of here, I wonat be eating omelets ever again. Truly, after two years a she sighed. aNot sure which I hate more a the omelets or the Alpo.a After a moment Julie asked the question that had been picking at her brain since shead first gained consciousness. aWhat does he want from us?a aWives,a Pamela said, her voice quiet and void of any expression.

aWouldnat it be easier and less painful if he just became a Mormon?a the blonde asked, serious. She was surprised by the hearty laughter that bubbled up from her companionas throat. She couldnat help but grin slightly herself, finally giving in to the contagious laughter, laughing more for the sake of laughing than because what she had said struck her so funny.

aOh, kiddo,a Pamela said, cursing the fact that she couldnat wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks and ticked the sides of her nose. aThat was good.a aJudging by your cackle, Iam guessing it was.a aYouad be fun to go have a beer with,a Pamela said, staring off into the darkness, where she knew her companion was. aMan, I miss a good, cold one. Me and the girls from work used to hit Saucyas Pub after work sometimes. Had the best tap there.a Julie was amused and slightly disturbed. aOut of all the things you could miss from the real world, and you think of beer?a Pamela grinned. aShit, Iave had two years to think of the important stuff. Now, Iam down to my vices.a This brought Julie to giggles again. aI just want a long, nice hot bubble bath.a She closed her eyes at the thought.

aYeah. I hear ya.a More silence. Then, aPam?a aYeah, Julie?a aIs he crazy?a aI donat know. Wish I did.a ***

Sergio tugged open the sliding door of his van, the privacy of his garage allowing him to make any changes that may need to be made without the prying eyes of the neighbors. Old Man Jones liked to come over too often to chat, surprising the building inspector. Not today a he couldnat have any distractions, or interruptions from nosy neighbors.

He stood just outside the van, looking inside. He quickly realized the overhead light in the garage wasnat going to be very helpful, as he needed to see the itty bitty details. Walking over to his impressive work bench, Sergio grabbed a halogen lantern head used during camping trips, and brought it back to the van. Crawling in on his hands and knees, the man searched every crevice of the back of the van, looking for anything at all that the painters might think suspicious.

The van had been a deep, blue color for the better part of six months, ever since head changed it after his second prize. Now, after the third, he figured it was time to change it again. Head have to search through the phone book, too, try and find a place that was local, but not too local. Too bad he couldnat go back to the last place a Color Expressions a he thought it was called. Theyad done a great job, and the cost had been reasonable. But, alas, he had to move on.

Sergio focused all his attention on what he was doing, fingers carefully parting the fibers of the light gray carpeting that covered the open space in the back of the van. He was always careful, never knowing what to expect when he made contact with a prize, never sure what would be necessary. Unfortunately with the last one, it had been in a public enough place that he had to use serious action. Right as that thought crossed his mind, Sergio gasped. He noticed something over by the edge of the vehicle, near the track where the door slid shut. Crawling over to it, he shone his light. How had he not noticed it before? A dark stain, very small, but there, was spread across the track. Shining his light on it, it was more than apparent it was dried blood.

Hopping out of the van, Sergio squatted down, bringing his lantern up to inspect the outside, focusing his attention near the opening of the van. There was the tiniest residue against the paint. He brought a finger to it, rubbing it over the small spot. The dried blood easily flaked off, falling to the spotless cement floor of the garage.

Sergio rubbed his fingers together, sighing heavily, heavy brows drawn in thought. Pushing to his full height, he crawled back into the van, searching even harder, combing every square inch of the carpet in the van. He used tarps, but still If that bit of blood had managed to escape his attention, what else had?

Chapter 13.

Remmy honesty wasnat sure what to think as she sat across the table from Roman. She had made it clear the night of the invite that they were going as friends, but from the looks the redhead was shooting her way, she thought she might just have to reiterate that fact.

They sat in a burger join, where nothing under a pound of beef could be ordered. She waited for her lunch, hands cupped around her cup of hot chocolate. She grabbed her spoon from its napkin cocoon, and scooped some of the whipped cream off the top.

aSo, where are you from?a Roman asked, playing with the straw in his coke. aI mean, youare not from here a.

Iam aware of that, Roman, but thank you for the bulletin. aWell, I was born in the backseat of a VW van, my parents on their way from Boise to Seattle. So, not sure exactly what town they were in when my dad had to pull to the side of the roadaa aYour father delivered you? Not in a hospital?a Roman asked, stunned.

aYep. a'Bout the only thing he did for me.a Remmy grinned, sipping from her hot cocoa. aHe disappeared not long after that.a aAnd your mom? Where did you grow up?a aWherever. She wasnat around all that much, either. Me and my cousin, Monica, used to troll whatever streets we could find. See, Monicaas mom, my Aunt Stacy, lived with us on and off, leaving Monica with us during the a'offa. We were close.a aNot anymore?a Remmy shook her head. aNot sure where sheas at. We lost touch.a Roman got the hint that the particular topic was closed, so he decided to move on to a new one. aWhat brought you here, to Woodland of all places.a Remmy shrugged. aDunno. I had been in Albany, New York for awhile, and decided to hop a Greyhound west. I rode as far as my money would take me, which was to Topeka, Kansas, and then just began to walk or hitch rides.a She looked around the small restaurant, with its movie memorabilia and bright, neon signs. aIt brought me here.a Roman smiled, big and goofy. aIam glad youare here.a The brunette sighed, setting her cup down. aLook, Roman, we need to talk about something.a She looked across the table at her companion, hoping to find the right words a get her point across, but not hurt his feelings. aYou seem like a truly nice guy, and honestly, I think it would be nice to get some friends. After all,a she grinned, acanat have too many of those, right?a Roman nodded, studying her intently as he listened. aIam getting the feeling here that youare looking for something from me that frankly, youare not going to get.a Roman blinked several times, hands nervously playing with the discarded paper from his straw. aWhat do you mean?a aLetas put it this way a youare not my type, big guy.a aWell, I mean, we can be friends, right? And who knows aa he shrugged.

aWhat I know is that Iam not into guys, Roman. At least not like that.a Romanas eyes widened in surprise and scandal. aYou mean, youare gay?a he whispered.

aYes,a Remmy whispered back, blue eyes twinkling.

Roman sat back against the booth hard, hope knocked out of him. He tossed the crumpled paper to the table, watching his hands as they grasped the cold, sweating glass that held his soda. aOh.a Remmy could see the disappointment written all over his face, and she felt bad. aIam sorry, Roman. I never lied to you. I told you we were going out tonight as friends, and as friends only.a aI know,a Roman sighed with a small smile. aGuess I just hoped, ya know?a Remmy nodded. aYeah, I know. Iam sorry. Just wanted to be honest with you.a Their dinners were delivered, both sitting quietly until the waitress left them in peace once more. aYeah. I appreciate that.a The silence between them was more than awkward for the rest of the meal, but as they were offered a dessert menu, Roman seemed to come out of his funk. To Remmyas delight, he was playful, smart, and really just a genuinely nice guy. She hoped they could be friends, as she wasnat kidding: she craved friends, something, or someone to help lighten the burden she had on her shoulders with Julie Wilson. There wasnat a moment that went by where she wasnat reminded, or her thoughts were invaded with images, whether visions or those of her own making, sometimes she wasnat completely sure.

Perhaps Romanas friendship a light, fun and seemingly carefree a would be just the thing to help ease the rising tension.

Sergio was pleased with the new color head chosen. Head always loved the color red. Stopped at the traffic light, he glanced in his side mirror, noting the way the falling sun shone against the new paint, no logo this time. It made the van look like a brand new vehicle. From the driveras seat, he could smell the new carpet head installed himself, proud of just how handy he was. Now, he just needed to wait for the new plates to arrive, since the van, after all, was asolda to a Mr. Rick Avales. He snickered at his own cleverness.

The light turned green, sending Sergio on his way. Head had a busy day at work, which kept him late. Head had just enough time to run home, shower and change, then jump into the newly painted van, leaving his Volvo behind, after its duty of getting him back and forth from work, as well as to the work sites he had visited over the long day.

As he trolled along the streets of the small town of Burrow Key, he studied his surroundings, taking in every street, every route, every home and business. Finally, after taking his time, winding his way through the town, population 12,000, he made his way to Burke Street. The uneven sidewalks and weed-riddled yards spoke of the lack of care and love to the old neighborhood. The houses were small, and placed extremely close together. Sergio wondered how anyone felt they had any privacy at all.

The van slowed in front of a small, tan-colored house with brick-red trim. The house had a front porch, cement painted green, a spider web of cracks making their way across it. Sergio studied the windows, curtains open, but saw no movement. Checking the clock on the dash, he knew it was coming close to time, so he gave the van some gas and headed toward the end of the block, where he pulled into the drive of a house he knew was empty.

Sergio pulled the vanas sliding door open, his dog, Romper whimpering excitedly as the leach was attached to his collar. aYou ready for a walk, boy?a Sergio asked, giving his dog some physical attention after a long day stuck in the backyard. The dog jumped around, trying to lick his masteras face, but only succeeding to get a taste of his shirt. Amused, Sergio locked up the van, and they were on their way.

The man looked around, checking out who might be around, who might be paying attention to him. His smile made his handsome face even more handsome, he knew. He and Romper were alone, and hadnat been spotted. He kept it at a slow, leisurely pace, watching as hid dog navigated the horribly buckled and crumbling sidewalks. Anyone on a bike or roller skates would kill themselves.

As they picked their way toward the tan house, Sergio began to scan the neighborhood with hawkas eyes behind the protection and privacy of his sunglasses. To his left, across the street, he heard childrenas voices, and noted two boys, maybe 12, coming out of one of the houses, neither giving Sergio the time of day. They grabbed their bikes from where they had been thrown on the front lawns, and peeled off down the street, shirttails flapping out behind them. He felt his heart beat a little harder as the boys disappeared down the street. To his right, a dog ran up to the chain link fence, barking loudly at Sergio and Romper. Startled, Sergio pulled Romperas leash to his other hand, forcing the dog to walk on the other side of him.

Eyeing his surroundings a little more carefully, Sergio continued on until finally he reached the house he had come to see. It was a small house, which Sergio could picture only had one or two bedrooms, both probably tiny. Sergio stopped in front of the house, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his shirt and tugging one free. He did not smoke, but it gave him an excuse to stop. It took him a couple tries to get the new lighter lit, bringing the flame to the tip of the smoke, sucking in a mouthful of smoke and holding it before slowly blowing it between his lips. He tried not to grimace at the god-awful taste.

He flicked the cigarette between inexperienced fingers, nearly flicking the cherry free from the end. He glanced over his shoulder, looking back at the small house behind him. A quick look at his watch told him she would be home in three minutes. Unable to stand on the sidewalk for three minutes without calling unwanted attention, Sergio clicked his tongue, letting Romper know that the break was over, his attention grabbed from the grass head been smelling by a gentle tug to his leash.

As master and dog continued on past the tan house, a small, blue Honda pulled into the short driveway, which theyad just crossed. The engine was turned off, and a door squeaked open, a female voice suddenly heard.

aOh, I know. Yeah. I think so, too.a The woman paused, climbing out of her car, setting her backpack on top of the small car, balancing the cell phone held to her ear with trying to get her belongings settled on her shoulder.