“The chair moved on its own,” I say dumbly. “Anna?” But she doesn’t respond. She’s staring at the wall in a daze, her pupils nearly as wide as her irises.

“Anna, are you okay?” I ask nervously.

A moment later she blinks, big and wide like an owl, and says, “You’re the boy from my vision.”

Chapter 3: Anna

The vision still had that hazy edge to it, everyone’s faces too blurred to make out, but I recognized the scene. Experiencing his parents’ deaths through him is worse than whoever I saw it from before. I can still feel Colin’s grief, and I have to remind myself that the pain isn’t mine, that my parents are still alive.

What are the odds that I would run into both the killer and the kid from my vision in the span of two nights?

In this town? Zero.

Shaking my head to clear it, I push myself up in the chair. “Why did someone kill your parents?”

Colin pulls his jacket closer to his chest, as if afraid it might try and run away. He looks lost, and I realize how exhausted he is. Those circles under his eyes would make a raccoon proud.

I wince. I could have phrased my question better. Or, you know, not have stuck my nose in something that’s none of my business for once. But it’s too late now.

“I, uh, had a vision,” I say carefully. Colin’s the type of guest who thinks the whole psychic thing is a hoax. If I’m not careful, he might—

The air comes rushing out of Colin’s lungs in a burst and he bolts past me.

“Hey!” I spring from the chair after him.

He doesn’t slow down. At the end of the hallway, he turns the wrong way. I fall into step beside him. “Look, clearly you’re here for a reason, and I’m guessing it has something to do with your parents.”

He only goes faster. I nearly have to jog to keep up with his long strides.

“There’s no such thing as coincidences in Wick, Colin,” I press. He takes another turn. We’re almost to the front of the house now, but still far from the stairs he’s looking for.

“I know who killed them!”

He stops.

I stare at him, wishing I could pull the words back. They’re not true. I couldn’t see the person’s face, so I don’t really know who they are. But I can find out—if he’ll let me. Together, Colin and I can find the killer, and then I can prove once and for all that my powers are good for something.

“Colin,” I say more softly.

Slowly, he turns around. His bright eyes are wide, the jacket clutched to his chest. I don’t want to push him, but I need to know.