Now she had consumed far too much caffeine all this day long, as she’d spent hours pouring over more facsimiles of the killer’s handwritten notes, all of which she’d handled earlier in original form in an effort to telekinetically catch any glimpses she might of the killer or his mind. She’d only gotten a vague sense that he was on a tightrope, his nerves shattering daily. Still, could she trust this ‘knowledge’? The telekinesis (TK) always proved iffy. While iffy was not a technological term, nor even a PSI word, it was most assuredly a human word associated with guesses, hunches, such things as maybes and perhapses all the way to the end of the scale to intuition and instinct. Iffy-ness figured into all psychic considerations after all, something Gene, her loving mentor, had railed about all the time. “You can’t ever take the if out of things,” he’d say. “And you must keep an open mind to the what ifs as well.” Today’s TK session had proven poor in the extreme.
