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“Any other customers notice anything strange?” I asked, glancing around the now-empty bar.

Kelley shook his head. “Place was dead last night. Tuesday, you know? Just a couple regulars at the pool table, and they left before Reeves did.”

“Mind if we take a look at that booth?” Cade asked, already standing.

“Help yourself,” Kelley shrugged. “Cops already went over it. Found nothing.”

We moved to the corner booth, sliding into the seats where Martin Reeves had spent his final hour alive. The vantage point offered a clear view of the entire bar while remaining partially obscured by shadows. Strategic, I noted.

“EMF?” I murmured, low enough that Kelley couldn't hear from his position at the bar.

Cade subtly withdrew the homemade detector from his jacket pocket, keeping it hidden beneath the table as it lit up with a series of rapid blinks.

“Definitely supernatural,” he confirmed, pocketing the device again. “But it's faint, residual.”

I ran my fingers along the tabletop, finding nothing but sticky beer residue and old scratches. “So what are we thinking? Ghost? Demon? Some kind of invisible entity?”

“Hard to say,” Cade replied, his eyes scanning the booth methodically. “But whatever it was, it didn't need physical contact to influence him.”

“Could be something that feeds on specific emotions,” I suggested, drawing on years of hunting experience. “Fear, guilt, despair. Gets them isolated, then strikes.”

“Possibly,” Cade said, but his tone suggested he was thinking of something specific. “Or something that needs to verify what its victims have seen before eliminating them.”

We finished our examination of the booth and returned to the bar, where Kelley was pretending not to watch us with nervous intensity.

“One more thing,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Did Reeves ever mention any unusual dreams? Nightmares, maybe?”

Kelley's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How'd you know? He was just talking about it last week. Said he hadn't been sleeping well, kept having the same dream over and over.”

“Did he say what the dream was about?” Cade asked, suddenly intent.

“Something about a fire,” Kelley recalled, brow furrowed in concentration. “And someone watching him through the flames. Weird stuff. I told him to lay off the scotch before bed.”

We thanked Kelley for his time and stepped outside into the afternoon sun, both of us blinking against the sudden brightness after the dim bar.

“Recurring dreams before death,” I muttered, loosening my tie further. “That could be significant.”

“And the burned-out eyes,” Cade pointed out, his pace brisk as we headed toward the Impala. “Something wanted to make sure he couldn't identify it.”

I exhaled sharply, frustration building. “So what? Ghost? Demon? Something new?”

Cade looked back at the bar, his expression unreadable. “We'll find out. Let's check with the ME, see if the autopsy reveals anything.”

The county morguewas housed in the basement of the hospital, all sterile white tiles and the sharp scent of disinfectant barely masking the underlying smell of death. Our CITD badges got us past the front desk with minimal questioning, and soon we were being led down a corridor by a harried-looking assistant.

“Dr. Cohen is just finishing up the preliminary examination,” she explained, pushing through a set of double doors.

The autopsy room was colder than the hallway, the temperature kept low to slow decomposition. In the center, beneath harsh fluorescent lighting, stood a stainless steel table where Martin Reeves lay exposed. The medical examiner, a slight woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, looked up as we entered.

“CITD?” she asked, eyebrows raising slightly over her surgical mask. “That was fast. I only just started the examination.”

I flashed my badge again, offering a practiced smile. “Agents Tennant and Smith. We're investigating a series of similar deaths.”

Dr. Cohen's expression shifted from skepticism to interest. “Similar to this? I'd remember if I'd seen anything like this before.”

“Not locally,” Cade smoothly interjected. “We're tracking cases across state lines.”

She nodded, accepting the explanation, and gestured us closer to the body. “Well, you've got a strange one here. I've been at this job twenty years and never seen burns like these.”