In this slim novel, originally written in the late 1970s, many of the standard elements of Koontz's better work appear: psychic ability, a romantic element, gripping prose. However -- and maybe this is because I have read several other, recent novels -- I found this one predictable. The story revolves around psychic Mary Bergen's vision of several murders that seem to have familiar victims (although she can't nail down why the victims are familiar to her). She is also torn between loyalty to her brother, Alan, and her new husband, Max, who don't get along. The setting is the Christmas season, and this provides the right weather conditions -- rain and cold -- and the right contrast -- happy season v. grisly murders -- to keep the reader's interest to see what will happen next. Unfortunately -- at least for me -- I pretty much guessed 'whodunit' in the beginning, so although I doubted myself a couple of times (kudos to Koontz), I enjoyed the 'why' more than the 'who'. The end is gripping, and the fate of the core characters is up in the air. Good, but not his best.