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still the same guy he’d been before I learned his secret. True, I had seen him kill a couple of people, and that was bound to make me uncomfortable. But I’d known all along he had a ruthless streak, and it had never made me this edgy before.
    I sat stiffly on the sofa, hoping Anderson would take the love seat. Of course, he didn’t get my mental hint, instead taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and turning to face me.
    He looked so unprepossessing it was hard to reconcile that image with what I knew was inside him. His medium brown hair was perpetually in need of a cut, his cheeks were perpetually peppered with five o’clockshadow—the kind that looks scruffy, not the kind that looks sexy—and he really needed to start buying no-iron shirts.
    I cleared my throat, trying to focus on the here and now, not think about Anderson as a towering pillar of white light loping off in pursuit of his prey.
    “The police are very confused,” I said. “These definitely look like dog attacks. The bites indicate at least five or six medium-sized dogs. There are some paw prints here and there, though not as many as there should be with that many dogs, and the crime-scene techs haven’t been able to find any dog hair, which is totally bizarre.”
    “Maybe the dogs were wearing gloves,” Anderson suggested, completely deadpan.
    The comment surprised a quick laugh out of me. “Or at least hairnets. Maybe the men were attacked by dogs in the food-service industry. That ought to narrow down the suspect pool.”
    Anderson smiled. “There. Now, that’s more like the Nikki I know.”
    The comment killed my amusement. I guess I hadn’t been acting as normal around him as I’d hoped. There was a long moment of awkward silence. I knew better than to race to fill that silence, but I couldn’t help myself.
    “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I can’t pretend I didn’t see what I saw.”
    “But you don’t have to tiptoe around me like I’m a keg of dynamite just waiting to blow. I’m dangerous to the bad guys, not to you.”
    I met his eyes in a challenging stare, too irritated by his statement to be cautious. “Are you forgetting that you threatened to kill me?”
    He waved that off carelessly. “I had to give you incentive not to tell anyone about me. It’s certainly not a threat I have any expectation of carrying out.”
    Oh, yeah, that made it so much better. “Look, I’ll try to act more normal, but you’re going to have to give me some time. I’ve had to absorb a hell of a lot of shocks in the last few weeks, and there’s only so much I can take.”
    There was no mistaking the remorse that flashed through Anderson’s eyes then. “Of course. I’m being an ass. Sorry.”
    All at once, he seemed more human to me than he had ever since I’d learned his true identity, and the knot in my gut loosened ever so slightly. I acknowledged his apology with a nod, then moved on.
    “I guess my next logical course of action is to go examine the crime scenes myself,” I said, thinking on the fly. “I didn’t get anything out of looking at the photos, but maybe an idea will come to me when I’m on-site.”
    Anderson looked doubtful. “You really think there’ll be any evidence left?”
    “Probably not. But I’m not looking for evidence so much as clues. And if there’s anything I’ve learned about my power, it’s that I don’t much understand how it works.” My supernatural aim was something I could wrap my brain around, something I could pinpoint and control. My knack for finding peoplewas much more elusive and hard to tap consciously. “Maybe looking at the crime scenes will give me nothing, but it can’t hurt to try.”
    Anderson nodded. “Makes sense. But take Jamaal with you when you go. There’s always a chance this is some kind of weird Olympian setup we don’t understand. I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the time being.”
    I was perfectly happy to take backup, but …