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around me.
    I felt the dark eyes looking down at me, but I just stared out at the small lake. It was better for a while not to fall into them. “Yes, I am having a hard time breathing, and I am forcing myself to sit here and not run into the woods screaming. However, I am more afraid of not knowing what is happening.” I paused and then asked, “What is your name?”
    “Does your warning system go off around me?”
    Why was he not just making it easy and answering me? Instead, he was winding up the spring inside me.
    “Oh, yes. Well, it is a little different. It throws off heat, but I know when you are around. Did you kill those two men—oh, and you still haven’t told me your name.” I finally looked up at him. I was glad he was looking at the lake, but, then, he brought his gaze down to mine. I immediately turned to look away.
    “Let me get this straight.” He reached into the basket and came out with a wrapped sandwich that he began to peel back the paper. “You are afraid of me, you came to an isolated location knowing I would follow you here, and you think I might have killed someone. Yet, you brought me lunch and the most important thing you want to know is my name?” There was amusement in his voice.
    I got up to put some space between us. I moved away a couple of steps, then came back to the table going for the cooler. I was just not going to be a coward, well, yes, I was a coward, but I was going to face the bogyman under my bed. “Beer or water?” I pulled out a bottle of water for myself and looked over at him.
    “Beer, of course.”
    I held the beer out to him and he took it without touching me. I was grateful. I went to the other side of the picnic table, stepping over the long seat. I sat down, a little more comfortable with the table between us, looking at his back to me.
    He slid down and straddled the seat, sitting sideways to the table. I looked at his profile, noticing a thin scar on his cheek. He had on his usual tee shirt and I was aware of the wide shoulders with the muscles of his arms. He wasn’t one of those steroid muscle-bound guys, but he had the look of a guy that would probably hold his own in an arm wrestling contest.
    “Tim Myers.”
    I looked at him in shock. How could this terrorist have such a common American name? “For real?”
    He looked over at me and took another bite of sandwich. He nodded.
    “Why me?” I reached over to find a sandwich, but before I could pull my hand back, he had it in his.
    “Feel it?” he asked me as he held my hand?
    I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I wanted him to let go. I was really scared now. I felt I had some control up to this point, but I also realized a couple of things at once. The tightness in my stomach was going away, but there was a heat forming around his hand and mine. The tension seemed to be growing up the hand, to my wrist, then up the arm where he was holding me.
    I pulled back in panic and he let go. I almost fell backwards, not expecting the release. I looked down at my hand, thinking I would see some trace of the touch, but there was nothing, not even a slight color.
    “What was that?”
    I looked up at him and saw that he had been watching me intently for reactions. “I get a vibe from you, not quite the right term, though, but I don’t have a name for it, just that I suddenly became aware of you a few weeks ago.”
    He looked around, seemed satisfied, then looked back at me.
    “You hadn’t felt it from me before?” I got busy with my sandwich so I didn’t have to meet those eyes. I had not felt anything from him except the warning that might have been from anything, especially the evening of the accident of the vehicles. I knew the warning had been from the possible crash and not him. Why did he notice me when I wasn’t picking up on him all of the time?
    “I just came into the area. A job.”
    I knew I didn’t like the silence, so I filled it with the next question. “What kind of job?” I really looked