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come up.  Another incident of stigmata, something Mark knew didn’t happen often, and when it was real, it was usually his missing companion.
                  Mark raced to his laptop and typed in the information Abby had given him.  Sure enough, an article popped up displayed by the local news of an enraged homeless man who seemed to have been stricken by a religious miracle.
                  Mark scanned the article and saw that the unnamed man had stopped bleeding by the time paramedics had arrived, and a detective on scene had been able to calm the man who was babbling in a strange language no one understood.
                  “Aramaic, probably,” Mark muttered to himself as he clicked through.  He read on that the man had gone unconscious and the last report the news station had was the man was being treated at a local hospital for possible drug overdose or brain injury.
                  As no dates were given, and no names of detectives, Mark’s trail went cold there, but at least it was something.  It had to be him, his Yehuda.  His companion lost for so long Mark had trouble recalling the last time they’d spoken.  Too much time had passed, Mark knew, too much time to be considered safe, for Yehuda to still be in his right mind.
                  Mark shut his laptop and began to formulate a plan.  The first thing he needed to do was find out where the man had been taken, and the moment he could, he would take Yehuda away and they would both disappear.

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
                  Ben hadn’t slept for ten hours straight since he was a high school student.  He’d always been an early riser, brain full of things that needed to get done, and once he became a detective, Ben rarely slept at all.
                  Rolling over, Ben was surprised to see the sun shining directly through his window, and when he grabbed his phone to check the time, he sat up in shock.  It was well past nine, and there were four missed calls from his office with a voicemail wondering where he was and if he was okay.
                  Nauseated, Ben jumped out of bed, raced to get dressed.  He showered, shaved and gulped down coffee in less than ten minutes.  He didn’t stop until he grabbed his glasses, and when his vision went cloudy after putting them on, he froze.
                  He blinked a little, and rubbed the lenses on his shirt, making sure they looked clear in the sun, and then shoved them back on his face.  It was still the same, the world fuzzy and somewhat off center, and he felt dizzy when he tried to walk with them on.
                  Ben felt panic bubble up through his stomach when he remembered the doctor asking if he had any change in vision.  Pulling out his phone, he dialed his doctor’s number with trembling fingers and waited.  He expected voicemail, but the doctor picked up.
                  “Doctor Burke,” came the gruff voice.
                  “Dr. Burke, it’s Ben Stanford,” Ben said, trying to keep his voice calm and controlled.  “I’m experiencing something… off.”
                  “How so?” the doctor asked matter-of-factly.
                  “You know, even with the meds you gave me, I still wasn’t sleeping.  Only last night, I passed out around seven and only woke up about ten minutes ago.  I’m not having any dizzy spells or headaches, but there’s something wrong with my eyes.”
                  “Are you losing vision?  Seeing any large black spots?” he asked.
                  “No,” Ben said slowly.  “It’s pretty strange.  When I put my glasses on, I can’t see anything, but off, my vision looks… I don’t know… normal, I suppose.  Like it used to be when I was a kid, before my astigmatism developed.”
                  There was a long pause