Vision

~SINBOUND~

Songs listened to and or referenced during the making of this story.

Finger.State Of My Head...by Shinedown...

Wrong Side Of Heaven...by Five FInger Death Punch...

Not Meant To Be...by Theory Of A Deadman...

Better Than Me...by Hinder...

Wasted On You...by Morgan Wallen...

Blue On Black...by Five Finger Death Punch...

You and Me...by Yellawolf...

Call Me...by Shinedown...

Sidewayz...by Crucifix...

Outside...by Staind...

It's Been A While...by Staind...

Gone Away...by Five Finger Death Punch...

Angel By The Wings...by Sia...

Stay...by Rihanna...

Say Something..by A Great Big World and Cristina Aguilera......

The Fragile...by Nine Inch Nails...

Unsteady...by X Ambassadors...

~2012~

~Garland, Texas~

....Baylor Scott & White Medical Center....

~RYLEE~

DON'T LEAVE AGENT CODY, FOR THERE IS MUCH TO DO. STAY WITH ME, SPECIAL AGENT CODY, OR I'LL DOUBLE MY KILLING BECAUSE OF YOU. DON'T LEAVE, AGENT CODY, OR THOSE YOU LOVE WILL DIE TOO...

The words whispered through my mind, insinuating themselves into the darkness, the void of finality as the unsteady beep of the heart monitor in the operating room became one long tone of death before slowly, it began a rhythmic beat again....

_ _ _ ___ _ ____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

~Three years later~

Garland, Texas

As I gazed at what were at one-time lovely roses surrounding the porch, I couldn't help thinking of how they were nothing more than overgrown thorn bushes now-life long ago leaving them. The porch they had complimented-artistic magnificence, en-captured within greenery and fragrance-was hunched, broken, much like an old man unable to stand tall and sure: dejection written in its sad lines.

An odor of age and decay floated on the breeze from the ranch-style house itself, and the overgrown growth within the yard waved, as if hungry for any attention. The whole image was depressing, and Brice and I were preparing to enter this cavern of neglect. As Crime Scene Investigators, our job was to figure out what had happened to the victims inside; one male, and one female. I knew the exterior of the house well, having passed it every day on my way to school, and I felt saddened at how quickly it had deteriorated in the ten years since it had become abandoned and at its abuse in this manner; a house of death.

With caution, I stepped onto the porch's steps, the rotted boards cracking beneath my boots. In front of me, Brice Rowland, my team leader, was already on the porch, carefully inching his way across what remained of the porch's floor. I could hear the boards breaking beneath his steps as chunks of the decayed wood fell to the dirt beneath them. "Watch your step," he called out. "This shit is like walking on driftwood, it's powdering out beneath my feet."

Besides Brice, there were seven other investigators: me, Jordan Courtney, Rick Tanner, Rihanna Naff, Style Benson, Ethan Blair, and Ashley Rowland-Brice's sister. Every one of us trusted Brice's leadership and would follow him into any situation without hesitation. However, today, there were just the two of us working the scene and I feared he was leading us through Satan's doorway and into the devil's domain, and I grew more and more uncomfortable about what awaited us inside.

Heaving a breath, I eased my way across the porch, and as I entered the house, I took in its interior. The inside was much the same as the outside-neglected. But it wasn't the interiors condition that held my attention-it was the sentences painted on the wall across from the front door. YOU STAYED WITH ME AGENT CODY, SO I DIDN'T HAVE TO DOUBLE MY KILLING BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S TIME TO BE WARY, AGENT CODY, BECAUSE I AM COMING FOR YOU!

Even when I was dying, this fucker would not let me be. He hadn't let the darkness steal me away. No, three years ago, he'd had to mind-fuck me. I'd been put on the ground, bleeding out, and was forced to watch my team member die, unable to do anything to help her-or myself. Then, during surgery to repair the damage I'd suffered, I'd only been allowed a glimpse of the peace death would have brought for a short period, as he'd taken it from me, using his words against me. He'd invaded my mind, pulling me back from the void, ripping me from the painlessness I'd sought, and bringing me screaming toward the light with one goal: his death.

I knew the malevolence behind the words written on the wall. I'd been dealing with the evilness of their owner since I was fifteen. When I'd received my first vision from him, I'd thought I'd been having a migraine. The pain was so intense, I'd become sick to my stomach. Then, little shards of jagged light had overtaken the iris of my eyes, blocking out the room around me, and through what had remained of my sight, I had witnessed my first murder. I'd never told anyone then, nor had I told anyone of the numerous visions he'd given me since.

He had forced me into becoming an unwanted voyeur of his sickness over the years. However, this time, he hadn't handed me his victims. Nevertheless, as we had pulled up in front of the house, I'd felt him. I'd known the victims inside were his, and when we'd entered the interior, I'd felt the madness that poured out of him like water. However, now, as I gazed at the words on the wall, I felt a victim for the first time, and turning, I bolted out of the house and vomited. My telepathic enforcer had just upgraded the game. He'd just made it clear I was a target.

###

~TWELVE HOURS LATER~

As I stood beside Brice's pickup, quietly closing the passenger door behind me, I peered through the evening gloom at my home, feeling a shudder run down my back as an unwelcoming chill emitted from within it. I'd been staying and sleeping in the partially completed living room of the house and working on it, as well as the rest of the place in my spare time. But as I gazed at its exterior now, I second-guessed my decision. The house sat deep in the woods, no homes or paved roads near it for several miles, and when I had bought the place, I'd thought it to be my ideal home: away from the hustle and bustle of city life. The two-story structure had come with a shallow stream that ran just to the backside and trees that shrouded the west side, giving it plenty of shade in the evenings: a place I had thought would bring peace. I'd pictured hanging a swing from the outstretched limb of the tree nearest the drive and spending what quiet evenings my job allowed, either exploring the sandbars of the stream or slowly drifting back and forth on the swing, drawing in the healing spirit of the area. However, now, all that was gone, instead, in its place was the knowledge this location was a place of vulnerability. A place open for a killer to find his prey. He had done this to me! He had once again taken from me. And now, for God only knew how long, I would stay with Brice until we could get control of the situation. However, I would carry on as if he, the owner of those words, hadn't just shaken the hell out of me.

With a breath, I continued forward, Brice leading the way before me. After crossing the porch, he opened the door to my home and stepped inside. Then, reaching to the left, he flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. Again, he flipped the switch but gained the same result:; nothing. Our guns still in hand, we stepped forward. I needed clothing and some personal items, and though Brice, and the unit chief, had pitched a fit, I insisted I go home to gather them. I now wished I hadn't. My home didn't feel like my home anymore, it felt as if something evil had taken over, and reaching up, I tapped Brice on the shoulder, then shaking my head, I whispered, "Never mind, something isn't right. Let's go."

I received no argument from him, and turning, we reversed our steps but at a faster pace and with Brice behind me instead of leading. As we reached the front of his pickup, I veered off and headed toward the passenger side, but Brice grabbed my arm, stopping me. Then, steering me toward the driver's side, he continued shielding my body with his as opening the door, he crowded me, wrapping his hands around my waist as lifting me into the pickup, his larger body practically draped over mine when he climbed in on my ass. Afterward, with his hands still wrapped around my waist he twisted me until we sat hip to hip. Finally, removing his hands, he reached up and shoved my face into my lap, growling, "Keep your head down until we're clear of here."

Head between my knees, I muttered in a complaint, "Really, Brice, is this necessary?"

Starting the pickup, he put it in reverse and began backing out of the drive before speaking. "Damn right it is. The bastard threatened you, and I'm not taking any chances. We both know something didn't feel right inside your house. For all we know, he could have been in there, and I'm fucking trying to protect you, Ry."

I found myself melting at the nickname. Brice hadn't called me that since I'd been in high school. Specifically, he hadn't called me by that name since he'd caught wind of Danny Green spreading around that I was like butter-easy to spread; I'd been on one date with Danny, and he hadn't even gotten to first base.

Brice was four years my senior and had already graduated from high school, and though Danny and Brice were the same age, however, Danny was held back a year. Yet, that hadn't stopped Brice from meeting up with Danny as he'd headed to school the morning after he had started the rumor among the other students. After kicking his ass, Brice followed Danny to the high school, making him apologize to me in front of everyone within hearing range. By that afternoon, the whole school knew Danny was a liar. I knew Brice was trying to do it again, and I couldn't help but dislike that because of this case, he even felt the need. I had held my secret too long. Too many lives had become lost because of my fear of being looked at as a freak, especially by Brice. But it was time. I needed to tell what I knew. We had to catch this bastard, and it needed done quickly. However, I had to figure out how to approach Brice and tell him I was telepathic and that the killer had been sending me his horrible acts for nine years. The previous visions still haunted me, and I didn't want to live another day with the mistakes I had made by not speaking of them. I just hoped Brice would understand why I had kept this to myself for so long.

I'd known Brice and Ashley forever, it seemed. Ashley and I were the same age and in the same grade in school. Over the years, we had become best friends, and of course, Brice had played a big part in my teenage fantasies and did to this day. He was gorgeous; At six-foot-three inches and weighing two-hundred-twenty pounds, his body made me drool; he had shoulder-length black hair, olive-toned-skin, and amber-eyes-and was where wet dreams originated. Even though his looks were model material, Brice didn't carry the cockiness most men with his kind of looks did. Instead he was warm, humble, and would do anything for anyone if they were in need.

Our years of friendship had created a closeness that was a tight bond, and when he was eleven and Ashley and I were seven, we had all three done a pinky swear that we would always be there for one another, no matter the situation. To this day, that agreement held between the three of us. I was nineteen when I'd begun considering the field of crime scene investigating, and as Brice had already ventured down that road, he was blunt and had pulled no punches about how gruesome it could be. Brice hadn't known though I had already witnessed gruesomeness at its finest for years by that time.

It had been my ability to receive the visions that had set me on my career path, and though I couldn't stop the scenes the killer gave me, I had decided I sure as hell could try to stop him. For five years now, I have been attempting to do just that.

As my thoughts returned to the present, I straightened in the seat, addressing his earlier words. "Brice, I can take care of mysel-" Before the sentence had even finished leaving my mouth, the headache hit, and gripping my head in my hands, I fought the oncoming vision. But it was useless. Over the next few minutes, I watched another gruesome scene unfold in front of me, and slowly as the vision faded, I became aware of Brice looking at me. "What the fuck was that?" he asked when he knew I was back with him.

With a shake of my head, I murmured, "We need to talk. But not now. There's another victim."

Brice looked in my direction. "Oh?"

With an eye roll, I muttered, "Trust me, okay? There's another victim."

Giving a slow nod and eyes returning to the road, he asked, "Alright. Suppose you're right, and there is a new victim. Where do you propose we start looking, Rylee?" I could hear in his voice, and by the twitch of his lips, he was humoring me.

Yeah, telling Brice about my visions was going to go over real well; I could already tell.

Irritated, I snapped, "Preston Road."

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at me again. "You serious about this?"

With a nod, I muttered, "Yes, sadly."

Holding the steering wheel with one hand, he fished out his cell phone from his shirt pocket, asking, "Did you say, Preston?"

Blowing a frustrated breath, I snapped, "Yes, Brice, Preston Road. Now, can we just get there?"

After a few minutes of gazing out the windshield and his phone clutched in his hand, he finally murmured, "So, you never did say. How did this tip come in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation, I muttered, "No, I didn't, did I?"

When I said no more, he just gazed at me. "Well?"

I let out a frustrated breath. "Does it matter at this point?"

Brice just shrugged, then asked. "How long?"

Frowning, I asked, "How long, what?"

"How long has this son of a bitch been giving you visions of his crime scenes?"

His question shocked me. "Um, not quite sure of what you're asking," I hedged.

He let out a frustrated breath. "I know you're telepathic, Rylee. I just want to know how long this bastard has been hounding you."

I sat in silence, then finally muttered, "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Brice gave a non-committal grunt.

I turned my head, looking out the side window. How was it he knew? It was too much to believe he'd guessed.

Crossing my arms against my middle and knowing I'd just told him I didn't want to talk about it, I couldn't help myself. "What makes you think I've been having...visions? Kind of a strange thing to ask, wouldn't you say?"

Brice gave a laugh. "I guess it is, huh?" Then the side of his mouth quirked. "I read your file."

"Oh," was all I could say. I hadn't even thought of that.

He pulled his eyes away from the road. "So, we talkin' about this now? Or later?"

Pulling in a deep breath, I considered his question. "Later."

Eyes returning to the road, he nodded. "Suit yourself. But you're not getting out of it."

I looked straight ahead. "I know."

"Okay. Though we aren't discussing the how of it, will you at least tell me what you just saw?" Brice coaxed.

I began recalling the vision. "His victim is hung in a shower. Tiles-white tiles were covering the walls and floor. The floor was clean but not scrubbed, the grout was dirty, or I guess it could be stained, I don't know. She was hanging by something, maybe a gambrel? And he'd split her from pelvis to sternum, but oddly, I didn't see any blood." Pausing, I thought for a minute. "That's all he gave me, except for the street name...and a color." I shook my head. "Gray. But I have no idea what he meant by it. Possibly a house color, you think?" Lifting a shoulder, I shrugged.

As I gave him the details, Brice remained silent, but when my words trailed off, he inquired, "The killer is a male?

I gave a slow nod.

Brice stared out the windshield pensively. "So, we're coming up on Preston now. Start looking for a gray house. I think you are right. It is most likely the house color."

As we turned onto Preston, my eyes widened. Holy shit! Almost every house on the block was the same gray color. Bastard! Smart mother-fucker; this would take some time.

"Shit," Brice muttered.

I could only nod. "Yeah."

"Okay, time for some help." Pulling out his phone, he looked at me. "I'll tell them...something... I don't know. I'll figure it out."

Within half an hour, Brice had a crime-post set up, and had begun instructing agents and officers from a nearby precinct what to do.

Surveillance had already scoped the area and had given the okay to begin the search. The plan was to go door to door. There wasn't any other way-no shortcut.

As I strapped on my vest and checked my gun, Brice glanced at the man who stood next to me. "Courtney, I want you up her ass, you got that? Don't let her out of your sight for one second!"

At Courtney's nod, Brice looked at me again. "Check your headset?"

A smile curved up my lips. "Not my first rodeo, cowboy."

Brice would be staying at the command post while Jordan and I went house to house, searching and adjusting the strap on his vest, Jordan looked over at me, asking,"You ready?"

House by house, each paired-team began checking the interiors and clearing it they moved on to the next. I could hear each unit clearing their assigned houses through my headset, and with each clearing, I felt my tension rising. What if this was nothing more than to throw us off? What if our Jane Doe wasn't even here? No, it wasn't an option; our victim had to be here.

We were nearing the end of the street and only had a few houses left when I heard the call come that a team had located a body. Partly relieved, part sick to my stomach, I listened to Brice advise the team to secure the scene.

Jordan and I made our way to the house number given and pushed through several civilians who had begun gathering in the front yard. As we got nearer the house, I heard Brice bark for someone to maintain the civilians, to question them, then clear them of the scene.

While we had been searching, the sun had gone down, and in the darkness, I could see several cell phones glowing like giant fireflies as their owners recorded. People were curious, and it wasn't unusual to see crowds gathering around the crime scenes, but the control unit soon had the gathering in hand, ordering them off the grass and for them to go home. A few left most stayed.

Finally making it to the door, Jordan and I both entered, looking around. The living room was nicely furnished. Whoever the homeowner was, they had spent a considerable amount of time on decorating. A plush, black couch, accompanied by two matching recliners, filled a large portion of the room's floor plan. Appealing paintings dotted the walls, enhancing the room's atmosphere. The wood that made up the floor lay beneath a deep-pile white carpet-white? Oh my God-and, a real-wood coffee table sat in front of the couch, its smaller mates, to either side of the recliners. But I knew the living room was not our target. Moving forward, I began making my way deeper into the room. It would take a few minutes for Brice to arrive, and as this was our scene, I needed to gain control.

Placing my fingers to my lips, I let out a whistle, gaining everyone's attention. "Okay, as of right now, this is my and Agent Rowland's investigation. I would appreciate it if no one touched anything!" Then looking at Jordan, I murmured, "Let's go."

Minutes later, as I stepped into the bathroom, I took in the woman's body. She hung upside down by her feet from the gambrel I'd seen in my vision. Her stomach had been sliced open, and a rib-separator, had been applied to her sternum. With the bone peeled back, I could see where her lungs, heart, and other organs should have been. However, her insides were completely clean, and her entrails removed. Her throat, had been sliced, allowing her to bleed out. She looked like a carcass in a meat locker, but this was not where her life had ended. There was another crime scene somewhere.

Though my attention was on the woman in the shower, I was very much aware of when Brice stepped into the room. Not two hours earlier, I had been in the cab of his pickup, in an area not much smaller than where we were now standing, but I hadn't been as hyper-aware of him then, as I was now. Maybe it was because the topic of our conversation had held everything else at bay. Or it could be the slightly claustrophobic feel of this room that brought it out in me. I didn't know. But I did know there were too many people taking up the limited space in this tiny dugout of a bathroom.

As all this was running through my head, Brice muttered over my shoulder, "Damn. Nutcase did a job on her."

With a quick nod, I dropped my bag on top of the toilet lid, shuffling a little forward to grab what little distance I could between us. As I bent at the waist to unzip my carry-all and retrieve my camera, my rear end inadvertently collided with Brice's pelvis. As his hands shot out to steady me, his fingers splayed around my hips, and I muttered, "Thanks."

He gave a grunt, meaning unclear, before fingers slow to remove themselves, he finally released me. At the same time, Jordan, whether he became aware of the tension between me and Brice, or he had suddenly begun to feel claustrophobic within the cubicle himself, muttered, "Well, I'll leave you two, to it," then hurried out of the room and I was suddenly struggling to figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing, my mind went into a fog, but I was aware when Brice stepped around me, peering at the woman's remains.

"Jesus Christ, he's gutted her like a hunter would their kill."

I heard his words, but it was as if someone else was listening too: as if someone else was sharing my body with me. I shook my head, trying to clear the feeling, but it wouldn't dissipate.

Brice, turning to face me, gazed at me, then asked, "Ry, you okay?"

Slowly, I shook my head, then placed my finger against my lips to silence him.

Brice cocked his head, a strange look crossing his features.

Slipping my phone out of my pocket, and without looking at the screen, I typed out. "He is using me to watch us," then set the phone on the sink countertop without ever glancing at it, or the counter.

I kept from looking at Brice by swinging my eyes back to the victim, and Brice stepped over to my phone.

Seconds passed, then he shouted, "Courtney."

Head jerking in Brice's direction, I raised an eyebrow. My eyes were questioning.

As Jordan came to the door, Brice turned toward me. "Cody, you're off the case."

I sucked in a startled breath. "What?"

Then, as if he were speaking to a child, he slowed his speech, spreading out his words. "You. Are. Off. The. Case."

Temper hot, back stiff, and head high as my nostrils flared with my anger, I did an about-face and exited the bathroom, clipping Brice's shoulder on my way out. I didn't stop until I was outside, where taking a deep breath, I screamed out my anger. FUCK! The agent trailing me looked on but said nothing.

BRICE

I sure as shit hadn't expected that! Damn! This wasn't in the least good.

I'd read in Rylee's file what her former leader had written, of how she'd awoken from surgery screaming, and the words she had said. Of how he had referred her to the agency's psychologist as a result. I knew Rylee, and she wasn't one who would want the attention, in fact, she was the exact opposite. Something else had happened during those lost moments. She had been through hell, who wouldn't be a little wonky. However, one thing I knew for certain, whatever she had experienced, had changed her. She wasn't the same person I had known before I'd taken off for college. Her words when she had come out of surgery revealed she had been enduring this sick bastard's killings for quite some time. But the when and how didn't matter, he had sucked onto her like a leach and wasn't letting go. Now, upon finding out the son-of-a-bitch was watching us work the scene through her, I knew I had to remove her from the case. I had no choice. I didn't want the nutter to know anything, but mostly I removed her because it was too fucking dangerous for her to remain working it.

As I worked, I couldn't keep my mind off the fact Rylee was engaging with a killer. Why, specifically, had he picked her? Did they, or had they known one another? I gave my head a small shake. I had to give it to the woman. She had shown no signs of fear. Instead, she rolled with the punches and dug in like a pit bull to the case, and it was going to be like taking a bone from the snarling, snapping jaws of a canine to get her to stay off of it. I knew, as well, that when I walked out of this house, she was going to be all over my ass-so would my unit chief, but I would go toe to toe with him over her removal. I had little doubt I was facing zillions of questions that I didn't feel I could truthfully answer. How could I? But we had a department for this very type of phenomenon, as well for other forms, and it would be like placing her on a plate and handing her to them, and I had little doubt she would be put under a microscope and made to feel like a germ on a petri dish.

Telepathy, though becoming more and more a possibility within the scientific world, had still not been accepted. The government had a variety of fields they kept under wraps. The men in black? Well, all I can say is the next time you see two or more men wearing black suits and sunglasses, as well moving with determination, don't rule out the possibility of who they are.

I was shaken out of my thoughts, when from beside me, Courtney stated, "She is going to pitch one hell of a fit when the shock wears off."

I nodded. "Yes, sir, that she will."

RYLEE

Momma always told me if I didn't have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all-I always was rebellious. I didn't have anything nice to say, but I sure as shit wasn't saying nothing at all! No, this needed to be addressed, and the sooner, the better. Brice couldn't just kick me off the case! Well, okay, he could, but *dammit!*

The crowd outside had dwindled to just a few lookie-loos and for that, I was thankful. I was not in a crowd-pleasing mood. I should be in there, helping, not out here trying to decide if I loved the gnome in the flower garden or loathed it. In the mood I was in, loathing would be easiest, but the bugger was kinda cute.

Heaving a breath, I turned from the gnome, realizing somehow its presence had calmed me. Oh, I was far from being in a forgiving mood. But I no longer wanted to rip Brice's head off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. No, now, I might be able to manage an actual conversation, rather than pulling on my boxing gloves and going to town on his face. Maybe.

As I watched the M.E. arrive, I knew Brice and Jordan should have the scene wrapped up soon, so I sat down on the curb, and picking up a twig, I began drawing in the dirt on the street. Waiting.

Fifteen minutes had passed when, out of the corner of my eye, I finally caught Brice exiting through the front door. Lightly springing to my feet, I stood waiting. He would have to come to me! I was not seeking him for an apology. He'd caused the brewing argument, so he could come to me to resolve it. As I watched him glance around, then his eyes land on me, I saw a look of resignation slide across his features. Yeah, damn right mister, we are discussing this.

As he neared where I stood, he grabbed my arm but kept walking. When we reached his pickup and he silently held open the door for me I snorted. Then, without a word, I climbed in and settled onto the seat, revving up my engines for battle.

Climbing in right behind me, Brice turned to face me. "Not a fucking word." Afterward, arms shooting out, he pulled me across the seat before tipping my head back, he buried my mouth beneath his. When he finally lifted his mouth from mine and shifted back around, he growled, "If you think there is anything you can say that will make me put you back on this case, knowing that parasite is feeding you, and feeding off you, you are way the fuck off the mark!"

Lord, God almighty could the man kiss, I couldn't help thinking before my mind resettled on why I was mad. If he thought kissing me into oblivion was going to make me forgive him. Weeelll, I'd show him just how wrong he was!

"Look asshole," I snapped. "So yeah, you distracted me there for a second, but I'm not going to let you keep me off the case. He came to me, remember? Obviously, he wants me to see what he is doing. Some sick fetish? Who the fuck knows. But as long as he is leading us to corpses, I'm going to keep chasing until I get this bastard. And either we can do this together, or I do it alone, but I'm not stopping!"

Brice sat quietly for a moment, the truck idling as he considered my words. "Not even if I told you I'm falling for you, and that I'm afraid of screwing something up and getting you killed because of it?" he finally asked.

Drat the man!