It's been nine years since he came into his gift at the young age of 16 and is now a volunteer consultant for the police department using his gift to help. He unfortunately finds more of the dead than the living. He finds victims of murder, rape, kidnappings, suicide, and people who are lost or have been in accidents. Most people, I figure, don’t want to get with a guy who’s basically a cadaver dog.The blurb completely drew me at the mention of August having a psychic gift of finding people. Sometimes I can do something useful, like avert a crime or a death. It doesn’t always work and I have no idea of the full extent of it. Or it could be during the middle of sex, which makes relationships difficult, especially since I don’t like to tell people about what I can do. It could be while I’m at work, which means I have to have a flexible job. It could be like now, in the middle of the night. I never know when a voice is going to call to me. Being sort-of psychic can be a real pain in the ass. Grumbling, I clambered out of bed and snatched the jeans I’d shucked off only a couple of hours before. I could ignore it, but that had never worked out. I really didn’t want to get out of bed but it had to be done the voice wouldn’t go away on its own. I picked it up, pushing the button to light up the screen it was only three-thirty in the morning. Whatever it was, I didn’t hear it break, so I shrugged it off. With one hand, I groped for my cellphone on the end table, knocking something off in the process. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard it again. Everything was still, quiet I convinced myself I must have been dreaming. Not now, though, so I figured it must be late. My tiny studio apartment was normally filled with the sounds of the downtown street below. I wasn’t sure yet whether the voice I’d heard was real or whether I’d dreamed it. For a few seconds, I lay where I was, sprawled on my back in my own bed. My eyes popped open to a pitch black room.
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