It wasn’t so. It felt as though Hunter was miles behind. It was such a shame. All the work John did and the truest meaning of it was wasted on the FBI, easily falling for misdirection. He couldn’t say he shared Vallejo’s fondness for the BAU agent.

There were more than just numbers to John’s subjects. Like the librarian.

John wove between the towering bookshelves. The library smelled of old paper. It felt dry.

She was unlike the others in so many ways, yet the same in the most important aspect. John’s eyes roved over her, wondering if maybe after this, Hunter would begin to understand his selection process.

The librarian, hair twisted up and out of her face to give him a full view, paid him no serious attention. Just a cursory glance and a polite smile.

John’s attention lingered on the woman. He stood behind her, enjoying the way her smooth, exposed neck disappeared into her hairline. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He imagined rubbing his fingers through it, toying with the ends. Imagined her eyes closing under the sensual contact.

But he could still look.

He could still enjoy it.

“I'm sorry, have we met?” she asked. “You just seem so familiar.”

John smiled placidly, leaning against a shelf.

“I'm working on a paper,” he said. “Actually, maybe you can help me find something.”

“Is that so?” she replied.

She wasn't afraid. They never were. All his victims thought they knew the signs, but they watched out for men who couldn't conduct themselves, who couldn't read a woman.

“Yes,” he said, “I'm hoping you can help me find some books about dreams.”

The librarian stared at him for a long moment. It was impossible to know what thoughts ran through her head. He could guess, but he preferred to avoid such conjecture. It didn't matter who or what she was now. Soon, she would become something bigger than herself, just as John had.

“We have a large section on dreams here,” she said, “though if you’re looking for something more specific...”

“I'm looking for what dreams mean,” John said. “Have you ever wondered?”

She laughed.

“Everyone has, I suppose,” she said.

John smiled, taking a step closer.

“Not many people are willing to discuss it,” he said.

She leaned forward just a little. “I'd love to help.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “What do you dream about? Maybe we can find out what it means.”

She considered this a moment, gauging him and doing a poor job of it. She would never see through him, never understand the true complexity of his motivations. He was on a mission, granted to him by someone with great vision. She was just a library trying to prove she was an individual.

“In dreams,” the librarian said, glancing up at him.

“Yes?” John prompted.

“In dreams,” she repeated, “I'm always running.”

He smiled.