 25 years after my murder, I was paralyzed by fear. Some things never lose their grip, no matter what's gone before. The graveyard was neglected. Weeds overgrew plots, headstones lay fallen. There was a small pile of crushed beer cans near my feet. First impressions these, and then my sensations were seized by the thing moving in between the graves and fear took hold of me. It had the appearance of a man, but its face was constantly shifting, distorting into expressions of primal rage. It looked more like a feral animal than anything that had once been human. And then it shifted again, and its features looked as though it was decaying, was rotting away. I turned to the one person I trusted most in the world, my business partner Ann Marie, and described what I was seeing. Ann Marie was hundreds of miles away in an apartment which had been specially adapted for her after the terrible injuries she sustained in a car crash. In the moments after the accident, she hovered between life and death, and it was only the skills of the first responders that saved her. Those moments left her with the ability to reach out between two worlds, to speak to a dead man, to speak to me. What you're seeing sounds like an old presence, one whose time on earth has driven it into a state of tormented flux. I've never known one to be encountered before, it could be incredibly dangerous. Be careful. I felt her words as much as I heard them. I am too scared to be anything else, I replied. The thing had reverted back to having a human face. It was drifting away, and soon I'd lost sight of it when it passed behind a mausoleum. I had the sense it was watching, waiting. Whatever it was that I'd stumbled across accidentally, I needed now to get my act in gear. I'd come here for a purpose, I was following a lead. Ann Marie and I dedicate our nights and our days to finding the missing. I guess you could say we have a unique skill set. A small group of trusted law enforcement officials refer clients who they think only we can help to Ann Marie, and we do everything in our powers to help. Our search for Alison Williams had brought me to this graveyard. Her distraught parents had told Ann Marie that she was a warm and loving person and bright and talented, had won a scholarship recently, and they couldn't have been more proud. She'd also started hanging out with some people her parents didn't approve of. They smoked dope and drank and hung out in the old municipal graveyard on the outskirts of their hometown. Teenagers, I thought, when Ann Marie was passing on this information, rebelling, and they usually grow up and no harm comes of it. Only I already knew this wasn't the case for Alison, or else her parents wouldn't have been referred to Ann Marie. Fair enough, she'd been missing for a month now. Her mobile hadn't been used or her card. The police had carried out inquiries, but it found nothing. I have no criticisms of the police. They're overwhelmed with work. So it was up to us. It was early morning, due shown on spider's webs strung between the limbs of stone crosses. I looked around, focused, I told myself, and began my search. An hour later, I found her. She was huddled behind two gravestones that had fallen into an inverted V. I could see her, and she could see me, which meant only one thing. The living are blind to the dead. My heart broke for her. Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear as she watched me approach. You don't know me, I said. But I'm a friend. I'm here to help. Your parents sent me. At the mention of her parents, she began to cry uncontrollably. I stood nearby, but kept my distance as the hurt poured from her. Those who died violently, unexpectedly, at first instinctively remained close to the place of their last living moments. I did the same all those years ago. And I knew now that Allison's body would be found by a professional search of the graveyard. I reached out to Ann Marie and updated her. Her determination and contacts would make this happen. And then Allison's parents could begin to grieve. Allison's tears were subsiding. And I began to explain who I was, what I was, and that I would help her now. Let's get away from this place first. I said, I was thinking of the thing, the torment and presence. Seeing it must have amplified her terror so badly. She rose slowly to her feet, and we set off walking. A few minutes later, I saw it. It stood by a gravestone, the inscription on which had been worn away by time and the elements. Its face seemed to shimmer as it changed and changed again with a manic rapidity. I couldn't make out its eyes, but I could tell it was watching us intently. Come on, I said to Allison, I don't think it'll follow us. You've no need to be afraid anymore. Allison was looking over at the thing. She appeared lost in thought, and then, from her expression, to have made a decision. She turned to me. I don't want to leave. She said, I don't want to leave him. I was shocked. Him? This nightmare being. She started to walk towards it until they were close enough to touch. We, those like us, have no physical presence. We cannot touch, cannot embrace. Allison held out her hand, reached out for it, and their hands merged, and I understood. Fear leads to fear. Ignorance sees hate. Trying to understand compassion, they will show us the way. The being's face stilled, softened, and I could see now the features of a young man. He must not have been much older than Allison when he'd passed. Their hands remained, two forms entwined. Allison smiled, turned and looked at me. It's okay. She said, you can go now. Or not alone anymore.