"Ms. Fast, this is Linda from Dr. Mallard's office," an older woman's voice said.

"Hi Linda."

"Dr. Mallard wanted me to give you a call and schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning, first thing."

"Oh, God, what's wrong now?" Sofia exclaimed and balled up her free hand into a fist until her nails bit into flesh.

"The specialist he flew in from Zurich arrives tonight. He's apparently really interested in meeting you."

"Really? I'd love to come in. What time do you open?"

"Seven. I'll schedule you for seven-fifteen so Dr. Mallard can get his first cup of coffee," Linda said.

"That's awesome, Linda. Thank you so much for calling!"

"No problem. We'll see you tomorrow at seven-fifteen."

Hopeful, Sofia crumpled up the paper with Dr. Bylun's information. If Dr. Mallard's international guest was that anxious to see her, he must know what was going on! She sipped her cocoa, cheered by the thought of soon knowing what was wrong with her.

The sound of screeching tires and a scream drew the patrons from the coffee shop to the window. Sofia stuffed Dr. Bylun's paper into her empty cup, tossed it, and joined the onlookers lining the street. Somewhere a few blocks away, an ambulance wailed. A drunk man staggered from a dark blue BMW. She walked up the street to a better vantage point, curious to see what he hit.

She froze at the sight straight out of her vision-the little boy, Cody, spread-eagled in the street near the storm drain. His mother was hysterical, screaming at once at the driver and her dead son. Coldness seeped through her as she watched the familiar scene before her. In the distance, she heard her cell phone ring. It ceased and began to ring again. As if in a dream, she pulled it free and answered.

"Ms. Fast?" The deep baritone voice pierced her thoughts. "This is Damian Bylun. You left a message with my receptionist?"

Her world was beginning to spin as she realized her vision had come true. Her legs felt weak, and she sat heavily on the curb, struggling to control her breathing so she didn't pass out.

God, what's wrong with me? I saw him die …

"Pardon?"

Realizing she clenched the phone in her hand, she locked the screen and sat staring at the asphalt. Someone touched her, and visions flared across her mind. A pretty brunette, mugged in a back alley, raped and killed.

"Hey, are you all right?" someone else asked. As the man took her arm to help her stand, his haggard face appeared in yet another vision. An older man with dementia left to rot and finally die in an old folks' home.




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