Lure of Obsession (The Muse Chronicles Book 1) by Lisa Kessler

that he might have had a brain tumor. “Thanks, Doc.”
    Dr. Lee reached for the door. “The mark on your back is another story. Don’t ignore it.”
    “I’ll call the dermatologist.”
    “See that you do.” He smiled and left the room.
    Nate put his shirt back on. So he wasn’t crazy or dying. But if the visions were real, Mel was in danger, and he had to figure out how to use the visions to help, and fast.
    Melanie. He sighed. It seemed to always come back to her. He was teetering on the border of obsession. He ran a hand down his face. This had to stop.
    He headed back to his place, eager for a run. He needed to clear his head and think, trace the webs and find the spider wearing the golden Kronos mask.
    The beach was crowded, but he popped in his ear buds and the noise faded away. His running playlist had a driving beat to help him keep his pace. He stayed on the boardwalk to keep the sand out of his shoes, and the breeze from the ocean kept him from overheating. The ritual helped, every step brought his mind more in focus.
    Why did he only have visions sometimes?
    He needed to do more research, but maybe thinking about a crime brought them on, or maybe whatever he touched had a story to tell. But he gripped the torqued wheel of the bicycle at the scene of the hit-and-run and nothing. Then when Mel kissed him, so many places had flashed before his eyes that he couldn’t keep up. The connection had to be the muses and that theater.
    And it ended in Crystal City.
    What was he missing?
    He pumped his legs faster, sweat rolling down his face. Shifting his focus, he worked backward from the theater. The building commissioner delayed the permits, and the biggest supporter of his campaign was an oil company. It made no sense. Why would they care about a theater?
    The muscles in his calves and thighs began to ache and his side cramped, pain stabbing his lungs. He slowed his stride and lifted his gaze. Goose bumps prickled his arms. He was in the shadows of a run-down theater. He turned around, frowning. How far had he run?
    Chest heaving, he crossed the street to the chain-link fence surrounding the building. He never asked Mel for an address. And yet, he ran all the way to the door. Miles. No wonder his legs were like giant sequoias.
    He walked the perimeter, scanning the area. There was a “No Trespassing” sign, and a banner for a contractor, but no mention of Muses Anonymous, LLC. So how could this cult—if there even was one—know Mel’s roommate had been involved in restoring the theater? Maybe they were watching it, stalking the sisters?
    Around the back of the building, a cracked parking lot with faded white lines sat forgotten, except for a single silver sedan at the far corner. He frowned, walking in its direction. Suddenly the engine came to life and the tires squealed as the car raced out of the lot.
    He’d only had time to grab the first three numbers on the plate. He pulled out his cell phone and typed in Silver Honda Accord – 358 . It wouldn’t be enough to find the car, but he would at least have a list. It was a starting point.
    Not that he had any proof to link that car to the crime. Maybe the driver had been smoking weed and didn’t want to be bothered. But they also could have been waiting to see if Mel and her friends were going to show up to work on the building today.
    Nate tucked his cell back into his running armband and leaned against the fence to rest. A vision exploded in his head. A man dressed all in black squeezed through a hole in the chain-link. He had a toolbox in his hand.
    Then as quick as it came on, the vision was gone.
    Nate cased the fence line until he found a clipped opening hiding at a corner post. Just like the vision. Adrenaline laced his bloodstream. He tugged the fencing back and slid inside. Without his badge, he had no business trespassing, so he jogged to a smashed door and disappeared into the shadows. The last thing he needed was to be seen and have someone