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Loni’s slacks like a jealous wife searching for the scent of strange perfume.
    â€œNo, I haven’t been petting any other dogs,” Loni said with a tremulous laugh that brought her perilously close to tears.
    It wasn’t easy to watch two people die. A part of Loni wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened. Only what kind of person could witness a tragedy and then push it from her mind? Loni’s mother and grandmother had tried to teach her how to distance herself from what she saw during visions, but so far Loni hadn’t mastered the techniques. Pretend it’s something on television , her mother, Annabel, lectured. Hold part of yourself back , her grandmother Aislinn advised. Only Loni couldn’t do it. When she touched certain things the visions slammed into her mind with stunning force and without any warning. She never had time to brace herself or distance herself emotionally.
    Part of the problem—in fact, most of the problem—was the extraordinary power of Loni’s gift. The strawberry marks on her mother’s and grandmother’s napes were pale pink, while hers was a deep crimson. The mark suggested Loni’s psychic abilities were multifaceted and much stronger than theirs. During their visions they saw everything in black and white, and they couldn’t often pick up on many details. Loni’s visions were in living color, blindingly bright and brutally real. She didn’t only see ; she felt people’s pain and terror.
    Today in the grocery store, she’d felt the shock of the ice-cold water when little Trevor had plunged into the river, then his panic as he’d fought his way to the surface. Then she’d felt the awful numbness in his limbs as the frigid rapids pummeled him, driving the chill deep into his bones. How could she distance herself from that?
    Even worse, how could she stop thinking about it?
    Trevor’s clothing would be wet now, and soon night would close in. If he was somewhere in central Oregon, and Loni felt certain he was, the temperatures would abruptly drop when the sun went down, possibly to below freezing before daylight tomorrow. How would the little guy survive?
    Desperate to chase the frightening possibilities from her mind, Loni crouched down to touch noses with Hannah. Everyone in the MacEwen family had argued against Loni’s purchasing a Fila Brasileiro mastiff. The breed was renowned for being fiercely loyal, protective of their masters, and sometimes vicious. Hannah had proved everyone right on the first two counts; even at only thirteen months she was suspicious of strangers and diligently guarded Loni’s safety. But vicious? Hannah had a sweet, loving nature and would never hurt anyone without good reason.
    â€œYou’re a dear heart, aren’t you?” Loni murmured as she ruffled the dog’s floppy ears and folded her loose jowls up over her nose. “Just look how wonderful you are with Deirdre’s little boys, and all the neighbor kids as well. You aren’t mean. No, you aren’t. You’re Mama’s precious girl. Yes, you are.”
    Loni sat back on her heels and grinned. In addition to the fact that Hannah made her feel safe when nightmares of Cheryl Blain brought her screaming awake, the mastiff had also become one of her best friends. Hannah never criticized or passed judgment. Her love was strong, steadfast, and without condition.
    â€œWe’re a team,” Loni whispered to her dog. “It’s just you and me, baby.”
    As Loni looped her arms around the mastiff’s thick neck, a brilliant white light flared before her eyes, and the next instant she was no longer in the kitchen but in rocky terrain peppered with pine trees. For a moment she felt confused and disoriented, but then her senses sharpened and she saw little Trevor huddled near a large boulder, the faithful Nana sitting beside him.
    â€œYou’re my best friend,” the child said to the