He ignored the odd looks from others waiting on wooden benches in the small room that doubled as a lobby. When he walked up to the desk, he knew it was now or never.

"I need to speak with the detective covering the Vivesectionist murders."

The woman behind the desk blinked several times before saying a word. "That would be Detective Anders. Might I ask what this pertains to?"

Richie sighed. "You want it in plain English? I'm a psychic. I know where the next murder will take place. I've seen it in a vision."

Somewhere nearby, someone choked on their coffee, then several others chuckled. He hated this. They all knew him; they all knew what he was. And not a damn one took him seriously.

"Y-yes, sir," the woman said as she picked up the phone. "Have a seat and he'll be with you shortly."

Richie nodded and found a bare patch of wall. Then he slid down to the cold tile floor.

When the phone ran, Julian answered it, listening silently to Allison. After a moment, he covered the receiver and looked at Mooney. "Somebody wants to see you."

"Huh?" Mooney gave him a blank look.

"Our neighbor psychic is right outside, and he wants to talk to you."

"Yeah, right, Anders. You ain't dodging. Besides if I were you, I'd listen to the guy. He's helped once or twice and been right."

"He hasn't helped me any." Sighing, he uncovered the receiver and said, "Send him back, Allison."

A few minutes later, Richie looked up to see a uniformed cop standing above him.

"Follow me," the man said with little to no emotion.

Richie got up and didn't even bother looking at him. "Lead the way," he said, waving his hand. He followed the man to an office near the back, then the cop opened the door.

"Mr. England to see you, Detective."

Looking up, Julian's features smoothed into an imperturbable mask as he nodded. "Come in, Mr. England, and take a seat."

Reaching for his coffee cup, Julian downed a healthy swallow as Mooney eyed him with a smirk.

When Mooney turned to glance over at the psychic, he asked, "What you got for us this time, England?"

"Stanton Park," Richie said as he sat down in the uncomfortable leather-covered chair in front of the desk. "That's where you'll find the next one, the next Vivisectionist victim. I've had visions all morning, since about four."

"Visions?" Julian just eyed the young man blankly. Idly he wondered what this odd kid was doing in his office. His gaze slowly swept over Richie in an analytical fashion. He gauged him to be about his brother's age and most like similar interests. Especially since they seem to favor the same notion of dressing in unrelieved black. And not in a business suit.

"Any idea of when, England?" Mooney seemed to have no problem taking him seriously.

"Yes, visions," Richie shot back at him, rolling his eyes. Then he turned and smiled at Mooney. "Good morning, Detective Mooney. As for when, the most I've been able to detect," he said, casting a sideways glare at Julian, "on a Friday, possibly this Friday. Dark."

A brow rose in amusement when Julian noticed Richie's bristling. Sudden pain jolted through Julian's leg as Mooney's foot connected with the front of his ankle.

Julian didn't show by a wince that the hit had fucking hurt.

Mooney smiled back at Richie. "We'll see if we can round a bit of extra help. Anything in the visions to tell what area of the park? SP is a large park."

"I haven't been to Stanton since Samhain," Richie said, "but I think near the clump of trees behind the amphitheater. It's always dark, maybe midnight if I'm judging right."

Turning in his seat, Julian moved his legs out of Mooney's range. Listening to Richie, his expression showed nothing but mild interest in what he had to say. Any of his thoughts were hidden and would probably irk Richie even more if he bothered to read them.

His voice when he spoke contained an urbane smooth tone. "We appreciate the information, Mr. England."

Mooney busied himself hastily writing what Richie said in his notebook. "Yeah thanks, England. If you get any more just let us know."

"Yeah, no problem." Richie stood up and just before walking out the door, he turned to Julian. "That's a pretty nasty bruise on your right ankle, Detective Anders." Then he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Mooney gave him a startled look before he turned back to Julian. Once the door was closed, he said, "So, let's see the leg."

Rolling his eyes Julian ignored the request. "It would be a very good assumption since you kicked me that I would probably have one." He gave Mooney an irritated look. "Do you think the Captain is really going to pay overtime for anybody to hang around SP waiting for a murder to be committed. And on a lead from a psychic?"

"It's worth a shot. If the kid is right, we'd be able to catch the bastard."

"And if he's wrong, the Captain would have our heads for being idiots. Psychic hunches are not adequate enough leads to cover that kind of overtime."

Mooney shook his head as he stood from the chair. "I think you're wrong on this, Anders. I've worked with that kid before. You didn't see what I saw. And you know what else? I don't think he saw me kick you. From where he was sitting he couldn't have seen that close to the floor. Not unless he can see through wood."

"He's a psychic. I'm sure he can see through anything."

Frowning at the sarcasm, Mooney left the room, slamming the door behind him.