Light brown hair and blue eyes. Broad shoulders bunched with muscle that didn’t sway but moved with the man’s confident gate. He was young and strong and, according to her memory, he saw her. Dane didn’t like the determined glint in the man’s eye and worried how and when it worked its way into one of his sister’s memories.
“Cybil, get up,” he growled. “We’re getting out of here.” He reached for her again and she swatted at him, pointing to the trees.
Dane’s jaw fell open as the man from her vision stood in the open land before them, where there had been nothing seconds earlier.
Colby barked, and wind blew across the hill as the man strutted in their direction with determined strides. Dane’s heart jolted and he glanced back at the house, noting how far they had to run.
He grabbed his sister’s pajama shirt and yanked her to her feet. “Now! Let’s go—”
She fought him, shoving his grip away and looking back to the woods.
“Cybil, no!” Panicked, he glared at the approaching man. His clothing wasn’t tattered as it had been in her mind. And his skin was clean, his hair combed. But he still didn’t belong there.
“You’re trespassing on private property!” Dane yelled.
The man continued toward them, his posture casual and his steps unhurried. He even smiled, his expression friendly and nonthreatening, but that meant nothing to Dane.
“God damnit, Cybil, let’s go! Right now!” Dane hissed through gritted teeth.
She stretched to see around his body, sidestepping him to get to the man.
“Hello there,” the man greeted, stopping only a few yards from them.
Dane slowly pivoted, standing protectively in front of his very stupid sister. “Are you deaf? I said this is private property,” Dane puffed out his chest.
The man was ripped. If this guy caused any trouble, there was nothing Dane could do to stop him.
He tilted his head to the side and looked at Cybil. “What’s your name, little one?”
Dane stepped forward and scowled, “Don’t fucking talk to her!”
Another unwanted grin. “I’m looking for Forsythia Way.”
That was the road his grandmother lived on, but there was no way Dane was helping this asshole.
A vision from his sister’s mind filled his: his grandmother’s house, the road, and the street sign on the corner that read Forsythia Way. He glared at his sister, silently ordering her not to point a finger or make a sound.
Then something intruded on the thought—an unwanted presence. Dane flinched, shaking his head.
“Good. I’m in the right place. I thought so.” The man smiled as he somehow plucked the details right from his sister’s mind.
“What the hell?” He tried to mentally shove the man out of her head but lacked the skill.
“You must be Cybil.” The trespasser squatted low to the ground and plucked a blade of grass free, bringing it to his nose and breathing it in as if cataloging the scent. “I’m Cain.” His gaze lifted. “And you’re Dane.”
“How do you know our names?”
“I’m a friend of your grandmother’s.”
It was a lie. Using all his energy, he shoved hard at the man’s mind and caught a glimpse of their family on television.
Dane’s narrowed eyes followed him accusingly. “You’re a reporter.”
“Hardly. I hate those vultures.” The man—Cain—stood and calmly brushed off his pant legs. “I’m here to speak with your grandmother. Is she home?”
“No,” Dane lied.
His sister showed a vision of their grandmother resting on the couch in her studio, and the man saw it. “Cybil!” What the hell was wrong with her?
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He gestured to Cybil, “Let’s go say hello.”
His sister stood as if to go with the stranger.
“Cybil, don’t.”
She ignored him and walked beside Cain in the direction of the house. Even the damn dog pranced around the guy, acting like man’s best friend to an absolute stranger and possible killer. They walked side-by-side, leaving Dane gaping on the hill, as Colby trotted after the man.
Dane searched his pockets for his phone, furious when it wasn’t there, and raced after them.
“It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day,” the man said, softly whistling as he strolled toward the house.
“She doesn’t talk,” Dane snapped, snatching his sister’s hand and hauling her back a few steps. “That man is a stranger!”
The man paused and tilted his head, studying Cybil for a moment. “I see.”
The screams from her memory shouted into Dane’s mind. It was the last time he’d heard her voice and he couldn’t stand the terror of her cries.
He jerked out of her mind, slamming a lid hard over the unwanted memories. Cybil hadn’t projected that one. Neither had Dane.
The strange man continued to study her. More memories spun in a kaleidoscope view of the past few weeks until Dane sucked in a harsh breath, realizing it was the stranger fishing through his sister’s thoughts.
“Hey!” He snapped, and the visions faded away.