Clarissa turned to see a young woman with short black hair and a strikingly handsome man with long brown hair standing not too far away. She knew about the couple from her lifelong dreams and because she'd pumped waitress and long-time friend, Chestnut Buttercup Creed-Chessie for short-for information when she'd arrived in town today.

The man was Lachlan Tavish and the woman was ErinGreenway, a local librarian.

Chessie had filled in Clarissa at lunch, explaining the amazing tale of Erin's ordeal with the serial killer and her miraculous escape from the so-called vampire-like creature.

Although the town teemed with believers in the supernatural, few agreed a bloodsucker committed the serial murders over the last month.

Chessie also told Clarissa about strange goings on at theGunn Inn, a secluded place on the outskirts of town. A series of murders occurred recently at the inn.

"That's hogwash," an older woman said, and Clarissa knew she'd lost part of the conversation. "There are no such things as ghosts in this town and there sure as heck ain't any vampires running around either."

"You've got to keep the curfew going to save lives," Lachlan Tavish said. "This isn't an ordinary killer we're talking about."

"He's right," said a handsome man with short-cropped brown hair. He stood next to an almost elfin-like woman with windswept short blonde hair.

Clarissa also knew their identity from what she'd learned in the last day and her dreams.

The man was Denver police detective Jared Thornton, and the woman MickyGunn, the owner of theGunn Inn.

The crowd babbled and the mayor rapped on the podium. A headache started to blossom and Clarissa rubbed her temples. She'd missed dinner and that might be part of the problem.

"Come on, people, let's be calm-headed about this," another man said from the front row. "Whether you believe in the supernatural or not, the fact is someone is killing people in this town and the cops can't stop it. We're going to have to take care of this menace ourselves."

"Wait, now, we are not advocating vigilante groups," the mayor said.

"Neither am I," the man said. "What I'm saying is we need some sort of neighborhood watch. A group of people who wander the area in numbers each night as a part of a patrol."

Several voices went up in favor of the idea. The concept jumped from one incarnation to the next until the mayor nixed the idea. Some of the crowd grumbled and others cheered.

The mayor straightened his red power tie. "The question is whether to keep the center open for Halloween. It would certainly be safer for all of you to bring your children here rather than trick-or-treating."

After listening to another reason why the party shouldn't continue, Clarissa tried to imagine how disappointed the children would be with no festivities. Maybe their homes were decorated, but it wouldn't be the same as roving the streets in costume or enjoying the thrill of a good scare near a decrepit old house. She realized how lucky she'd been as a child to enjoy a more carefree town. Then she remembered that there was no such thing as the good old days. As a child she'd discovered, through nightmare and vision, that something possessed this town in a deep, evil way. To be frightened meant a temporary rush. Now...well, she couldn't say what it meant.

Then again, the purse-snatching pirate had scared the crap out of her, and so had Ronan.

She'd experienced enough fear in this night to fill up her Halloween quota for the year.

Weary of the merry-go-round assembly, she looked for Lachlan and Erin and saw they'd moved to the back of the room.Okay, time to regroup and maybe try again tomorrow.

She didn't have the energy tonight.

"What are we going to do, mayor?" a man nearby her asked. "Just let this fiend take over the entire town?"

That's what he wants to do, all right.If her dreams and visions came true, she knew deep in her heart the town would be devastated.

The mayor's face wrinkled with uncertainty. "The counsel will take everyone's concerns into consideration and vote in thirty minutes on the fate of the party."

A female voice chimed in. "But mayor, this is wrecking our quiet, safe little town. Why when I was a kid stuff like this never happened. We've always known this town is different, but nothing horrifying happened. We've got to do something to make this town like it once was. A totally safe place to be."

Another rush of voices went up, arguing, joking, and making mincemeat out of rational possibilities. She shook her head. Sometimes people drove her insane with their insistence on knowing what came around the corner the next few minutes. Didn't they understand security was an illusion? Obviously this woman had the mistaken impression that the good old days were golden.

Like a whisper, a strange sensation replaced Clarissa's aggravation with a far more potent feeling. All the hairs on her neck prickled and she knew the cause.

Someone watched her.

She glanced to the right. Ronan Kieran stood near the entrance to the foyer in all his arrogance, his gaze pinpointed on her as if he possessed all the time and resources in the world. Immediate impressions flew at her, rising from the depths of her well-honed intuition. Something dark and unusual commanded him, a man with nothing to lose, hardened by history and his decisions. Battle-scarred, his ego remained a powerful force.

As her gaze stayed locked with his, she felt his interest in her rise and his heated attention. She felt an increase in suspense, as if she watched a spooky movie and now perched on the edge of her recliner biting her nails. An odd breathlessness made her heart pick up speed.

Ire rose along with a wave of female pleasure. In the full light, no longer obscured, his masculinity screamed out for all women to see. In fact, his blatant gaze, dark and potent as sin, seemed to have attracted significant female attention. Two women in their late twenties stared at him from the back of the room. While she couldn't see their expressions, she imagined the hunger she would see there. This man inspired instant arousal, immediate compliance to his sexual will. Her nipples grew tight and hard as she watched him.

He looked away and broke the trance.

ThankGod.

She shivered, a delicious tickle warming between her legs. She would have to ask Chessie if she knew who Ronan Kieran really was. Yes, he was Irish, and yes, he looked better than any romance cover model or movie star she'd watched on the silver screen.

That still didn't explain his identity or whether he could be trusted.

You can trust me.

His voice, husky and filled with his distinctive accent, filled her thoughts.

He can't be speaking to me like this.A deep shiver quivered through her and she glanced at him. He stood in the doorway watching the mayor.

Okay, so maybe his voice in my head was all imagination. Had to be.

Another voice spoke up, this real and familiar. A voice somewhat changed over the years by maturity, but the same masculine sound.

The voice came attached to a man with a notebook and micro recorder. His tone of voice, hurried and aggressive, made the guy sound like a reporter eager to find a story.

"Mayor Bold, do you have any comment on whom or what could be committing these murders? Several papers around the country say there's conjecture the killer may be El Chupacabra. You can't honestly say you believe in that sort of thing."

Mayor Bold rolled his gaze to the ceiling for a second, then pinpointed the man with a contemptuous stare. "We've answered these types of ridiculous questions over and over for the last few weeks. No, we do not believe El Chupacabra is responsible because there is no such thing as El Chupacabra. You could have gotten the information from the Pine Forest Sentinel. Talk with their office if you want to hear chicanery on the subject."

The man continued. "Mayor Bold, is it true several local individuals have approached you with an idea about how to trap the creature?"

Leave it up to him to keep slamming home the creature angle.

"Sir, I don't know how many times I have to say it. There is no creature. We are dealing with a very sick individual here," the mayor said, his face tight with anger.

Keep it up. The mayor will probably have his cronies throw you out on the street.

About six feet tall, with short-trimmed, wavy golden blond hair and a distinct resemblance to a young Robert Redford, this man couldn't be mistaken for anyone other than up-and-coming paranormal researcher Jim Leggett.

The man she would have married.

The man she'd left behind when she quit Pine Forest twelve years ago.

She blinked the memory away of Jim's face as she'd left him standing on a street corner, his bewildered expression stamped in her mind with indelible ink. Over the years Chessie had filled her in on Jim's adventures, but she tried not to think about him or what might have been. A little pain still resided in her heart.

"Mayor," Jim said, "what about the assertion by some that this killer is possessed by evil?"

The mayor's eyes narrowed, his lips drawing into a tight line. He smoothed his labels, his displeasure evident as he shifted on his feet and surveyed the room as if someone might rescue him. "Well, Dr. Leggett, I'm afraid there's nothing paranormal for you to investigate in this town."

A grumble went up from the crowd. Before Jim could launch into another line of questioning, the mayor took more suggestions and questions from the crowd. While the conversation went on all around her, Clarissa pushed back memories of what used to be in Pine Forest. Her life, her family, her love. Much of it came in a painful wave filled with remorse and bitterness.