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mystifying is that the authorities have so far been unable to identify any of the victims.
     
    “Wait!” Jason cried, realization hitting him like a blow to the head. “My first dream! In it there was a man, a German. His accent was unmistakable. The shadow creatures chased him, then captured and tortured him. I saw everything. I also felt everything he felt until the connection between us broke. I guess that’s when he died.”
    Matt and Debbie exchanged a worried glance, then Debbie stared back at the screen. Jason noticed her fingers trembling over the keyboard, and he raised his eyebrows at Matt. Matt put a comforting hand on her shoulder for support, and she glanced up at him, her smile warm.
    “Look,” she said, focusing on the computer. “They have a few pictures of the victims. Does anything look familiar?”
    Jason didn’t know what to expect, but he leaned closer, intrigued. He’d never met those people, had no idea they’d even existed, yet they had suddenly become an essential part of his life.
    The picture downloaded, and they all gasped with horror at the image of the man before them. The cause of death was obvious: a dent in his skull, as if he’d been smashed by a hammer. The dead man’s face still twisted in a final scream, his eyes gaped open, imprinted with terror. All four limbs were extended at unnatural angles, his body mutilated.
    Jason gagged, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach. With infinite clarity, he remembered being inside that person. He knew exactly how the man had died: his skull had cracked when the shadow stomped on it. That was when he’d woken up. 
    Matt stepped back from the screen, his face pale. “That’s not pretty.”
    Debbie closed the file hastily. “You recognized him?” she asked, then swallowed hard when Jason nodded.
    “So this is real,” Matt said. “They are the victims from your dreams?”
    Jason nodded again, and Debbie picked up the newspaper.
    “I don’t understand how they could accomplish it over such vast distances,” she began. “Look at this. It’s more than just the five they had in the article. Reykjavik, Atlanta, Erevan, Frankfurt am Main, Minsk, Edinburgh, Jakarta, Asunción, and Sydney.”
    Jason studied the list, entirely confused. “What do they want from me?”
    “And what about the letter? Why did they send it to you? You said when you went to Times Square you saw the evil men, but also that one in the cloak which you say rescued you. Who sent the letter? The murderers?”
    “What if the person who sent you this letter is actually good, but being watched by the bad guys?” Matthew asked. “They’re afraid of exposing themselves to the bad guys.”
    “But why me? What’s going on?”
    “Maybe … maybe you’re seeing the future, Jase.”
    Debbie turned around all the way so she could take Jason’s hand in hers. “Let’s think about this. Whoever the bad guys are, they want to kill you. But whoever the other guy is, he wants to save you. That tells me you are special in some way that we can’t see. Whatever is going on in your brain may be dangerous for whoever they are.”
    Jason twisted his face into a scowl. “That’s ridiculous. What can I do to them?  Makes no sense.”
    But something about the place names disturbed him, and he focused on the screen again. What if the murders hadn’t been random? Was there some kind of pattern?
    Then he saw it, and he broke into a cold sweat, feeling panic lodge in his belly.
    “It’s a riddle.”
    “What?”
    “Look.”
    It all became clear in the worst possible way. In Jason’s mind the letters ignited, burst into flames, forming a threat that could not be a coincidence. He felt dizzy and flushed, and wondered whether these awful people knew every damn thing about him: his friends, his address, his workplace. In a moment of clarity he realized that by researching them this way, he had probably played right into their hands.
    “What is it, Jase?” Matt