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country-styled with maple cabinets and granite counters, it was a cozy, homey place to sit and talk. Just outside the window, she spied a robin wandering along the branches of a sickly looking elm. She figured Dutch elm disease and wondered why Mrs. Carvelli hadn’t had it cut down.
    “Here you go.” Mrs. Carvelli placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of Jennifer. Jennifer studied the older woman as she sat down across from her with her own cup. Early fifties, dark brown hair, lightly graying, with a youthful face that had strong features, but not overwhelming. From the picture in the living room, her son had the masculine version of his mother’s Roman nose, broad forehead, and full lips; however, his eyes were green to Mrs. Carvelli’s brown. Mrs. Carvelli had a beauty that had settled nicely with age, as well as sophistication by the look of the tailored light blue blouse and darker blue slacks. Diamond studs glinted in her earlobes.
    “Thanks for coming over.” Mrs. Carvelli’s voice was soft, throaty, probably from cigarettes. Jennifer spotted an ashtray on the counter near the coffee machine.
    Jennifer lifted her mug to take a sip, pondering what Mrs. Carvelli had just told her about her visions. And her dilemma. “So you never told him you’re a seer?”
    Mrs. Carvelli shook her head. “No. Though he probably has some inkling but knowing David, he’s scrunched it all down into that little box in his subconscious where he keeps things he doesn’t want to deal with.” Mrs. Carvelli cocked her head as she looked at the young woman, and Jennifer had the unsettling feeling she was being “read.” “I ever tell you about the fire that destroyed my home years ago?”
    Jennifer paused her upraised cup. “No, you never told me. What happened?”
    “David. I picked up a few impressions from him after it happened. One of the few times I was able to get something after the fact. It was an accident. His friend Terry’s shenanigans. David was always letting that boy pull him by the nose. Of course, I didn’t tell him I knew because he was already feeling lousy, and there’s only so much guilt a kid can handle. Besides, he learned a lesson that day, something I couldn’t teach him. Still, I’ve been waiting all these years for him to say something about it. He never has.”
    Mrs. Carvelli paused contemplatively, took a sip of coffee. “I saw his friend, Terry, drowning in a forest preserve. Soon as I realized it was a premonition, I tried to call his mother, but I couldn’t reach them. After it happened, I broke the news to David but I never let on that I knew beforehand. Over the years, there were other things, things I tried to prevent. I kept them to myself because at the time it didn’t seem important to upset David’s life. Not that he would’ve listened. He’s so much like his father in many ways. Being a stone cold skeptic is one of them. That’s why I’ve pulled you into this little drama. I’ve been picking up some disturbing things from him lately. I can’t talk to him about them because I don’t know exactly what’s going on. I was hoping you might sense something.”
    “I’ll try, but you know I only see past events, not the future.”
    Mrs. Carvelli stared bemusedly into her coffee cup as though reading tea dregs. “I think that your visions will be of more help than mine. Jennifer, I’ve never seen him like this before. And when I say ‘seen’, I mean his aura. It’s been red lately. Violent red, like blood. David’s usually a green. Sometimes orange. Hardly ever red. I’ve only seen him this color twice in his life, and never this deep a shade. The first time was the night his father walked out on us and told David he wasn’t coming back. That nearly destroyed my son. The other time was the day I told him about Terry. But it’s not just his aura that’s bothering me. There are other things too. I’ve been picking up some strange visions from him, images I can’t