Edge of Midnight

9



“Mia?” Dr. Wilhelm repeated. “Can you hear me? Tell me what’s going on.”

Eric dragged a hand through his hair, watching as her eyelids fluttered and her head rolled weakly from side to side. She’d stopped talking, instead gasping for air. “You need to pull her back—”

The psychiatrist raised his hand in a silencing gesture. “Listen to me, Mia. Whatever’s happening right now, I want you to distance yourself from it. Go back to the empty theater we’ve created and focus on the white, blank screen. Can you do that?”

He made the request twice before she seemed to obey, her breathing eventually slowing and her body releasing its tension. “You’re safe here, all right? We’re going to rest in the theater for a little while. Let the blank screen fill your mind. Don’t think of anything else.”

He got up and went over to his desk. Eric followed him over.

“Is she okay?” he asked in a low voice. His eyes fell on the blood pressure kit Dr. Wilhelm extracted from his credenza.

“I’m going to monitor her BP as a precaution. But the therapy is working, Agent Macfarlane. You were aware the memories were going to cause some discomfort.”

Eric knew he needed to relax and let the doctor do his job. He just hadn’t expected his protective instincts to kick in quite so hard. Eric looked again at Mia. She lay on the couch—no longer moving, her eyes closed. Her lips were slightly parted and her sleek, dark hair spilled across the striped cushion underneath her head.

“You’re going to feel a slight pressure on your upper arm,” Dr. Wilhelm advised in a soothing tone as he returned to the chair beside the couch. Gently, he slipped the cuff onto Mia’s slender biceps. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Taking the reading, he gave a nod to Eric, an indication her blood pressure was in an acceptable range. “Tell me what happened after you got into your car, Mia. There’s no need to go back there. Just tell me about it from where you are now.”

They waited for her to speak. She took a fragile breath, her eyes still closed and her voice soft and dreamlike. “There was a man hiding in the backseat…he stuck me with a needle.”

“Did you see him?”

She shook her head faintly. “Only his eyes. In the rearview mirror. They were blue, I think. He was wearing latex gloves.”

Which would explain why there were no other prints inside the stolen car Mia had used to escape. Eric felt disappointment that she hadn’t gotten a better look at the unsub. He had apparently used an injectable, dangerous cocktail of liquid Rohypnol and GHB. It would have been potent and fast acting, much more so than if it had been simply laced into a drink at a bar or nightclub.

“How old do you think he might have been?” Dr. Wilhelm prodded.

“I’m not sure. But he had crinkles around his eyes.”

“Did he say anything?”

“That I was prettier than he’d thought.” Her breath hitched, and her hands clasped and unclasped on her stomach. “I…I don’t remember anything else.”

“You’re doing very well. I want you to rest some more, all right?” Standing, Dr. Wilhelm motioned Eric to the hallway where they could speak more openly.

“We can take this further before the effects of the drug begin to recede—as you know, we don’t have a lot of time. Each session gives us only a few minutes of peak access. The choice is yours, Agent Macfarlane. We don’t want to overtax her in a single session, but due to the higher concentration of the catalyst she was given this time, we’ll have to wait a few days before trying again. I advise you to use this session to your fullest advantage.”

Eric stared at the partially closed door. He thought of Anna Lynn Gomez. The decision squeezed his lungs. “Keep going.”

Back inside the office, Dr. Wilhelm once again settled into the armchair next to the couch. Eric stood tensely nearby, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We’re going to leave the theater for a little while again. The man who was hiding in your car took you somewhere, Mia. You were drugged and things will be hazy. But I need you to look through that veil and tell me what you see, and what you hear. Maybe you’re in another car or an unfamiliar place. Maybe the man is there with you. Take your time…”

Her silky lashes formed half moons against her cheeks, and her small, rounded breasts lifted and fell with her shallow breathing. She frowned in concentration for what seemed like a long time.

“I—I don’t know where I am,” she whispered. “My head hurts and—”

Her hands twisted suddenly, fear punctuating her words. “Oh, God. My wrists…they’re tied to a table!”

Eric thought of Mia’s excised fingernails and hoped she wouldn’t have to relive that torture. Anxiety gnawing at him, he paced a few steps before returning.

“I’m right here with you,” Dr. Wilhelm reminded. “Try to remain calm. Look around and tell me what you see. It’s very important.”

“I…I’m in a room with cinder-block walls.” Her voice shook. “There’s a peg board with tools hanging on it…and pliers on the table in front of me.”

Eric’s nerves felt raw.

“There’s plastic sheeting up on the walls. I…” She stopped speaking. Her throat convulsed, her breath growing more ragged.

“What is it, Mia?” Dr. Wilhelm asked. “Is the man with you?”

“I—I don’t see him. But there’s a woman. She’s tied up on the other side of the room. She’s gagged and she’s staring right at me. She’s hurt and…” A terrified sob escaped her. “Oh, God, I hear someone outside the door. I think he’s coming back!”

Dr. Wilhelm spoke to her, trying to control her panic, but she cried out and sat bolt upright, bucking and slapping at him as he attempted to force her back down on the couch. Eric launched forward to help.

“Mia, listen to me. It’s Dr. Wilhelm. We’re going back to the theater now. To where it’s safe—”

“No!” She convulsed and opened her eyes, drawing in deep gulps of air as if she had been underwater too long. Perspiration glistened on her skin. She’d clearly wrenched herself from her hypnotic state.

Eric’s jaw clenched, his pulse thrumming.

“Don’t sit up. Try not to talk yet.” Dr. Wilhelm reinflated the cuff still on Mia’s arm, waiting as the system got a reading. “Her BP’s quite elevated. The drug’s effect is starting to diminish or else she wouldn’t have been able to pull herself out. I think we’ve gone as far as we can for today, but we’ve made quite a breakthrough.”

Mia looked up at Eric, her brown eyes shimmering with tears.

“I saw Cissy Cox,” she whispered.

It was headed into early evening, the blue sky slowly fading. There were no other cars in the driveway in front of Mia’s apartment. Eric put the sedan into Park. Cutting off the ignition, he glanced at Mia.

She sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed and head leaned back against the headrest. Her hands lay motionless in her lap. He swallowed.

He didn’t want to wake her. She’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they had driven off the naval base. Clearly, the therapy session had drained her physically as well as emotionally. Feeling tired himself, for a time Eric stared through the windshield at the building’s stucco-and-stone courtyard with its wrought-iron fencing and lush foliage. A wave of frustration washed through him. Mia had been to hell in the space of two hours and they had nothing to show for it. No physical description of the unsub, no clues as to his location. Dr. Wilhelm had reminded him to be patient. The therapy had worked, but they could only go at the pace her mind would allow. Even more, what she witnessed, the scenes her mind latched on to—it was like spinning a roulette wheel.

He didn’t want to put her through those horrible hours again, but he realized that as long as she was willing it was exactly what he’d have to do. Too much was at stake.

“Mia?” he asked softly. She stirred at his voice, blinking at him hazily.

“I fell asleep,” she murmured in realization.

“Stay there and I’ll come around to help. You were a little wobbly leaving Dr. Wilhelm’s office—”

“I saw her, Eric. Cissy Cox was there, still alive. What if she still is?”

Eric had unfastened his seat belt, but at her words he remained seated. He sighed and turned toward her, noting the downward curve to her pretty mouth and her anxious expression. He said as gently as possible, “Based on the killer’s M.O., she’s already dead.”

Her eyes held hope. “But you can’t be sure.”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that in all likelihood she had witnessed Cissy Cox’s murder. In fact, he suspected that if she hadn’t pulled herself out of her hypnotic state when she did, she might have had to relive it all over again.

“He has another woman now. We can still help her.” With the engine off, the cool air inside the car’s interior had begun to diminish. Exiting the vehicle, Eric went to the passenger side and opened the door. Mia got out, her slender form wavering a little as she stood. Eric steadied her, his hands clasping her upper arms. “Still dizzy?”

“I’m okay,” she said, although her eyes didn’t share the same confidence as her voice. Her pupils were still dilated and that worried him. He’d taken Dr. Wilhelm’s word for it that the drug used in the therapy was safe, and he wondered now if he shouldn’t have pressed for more information before getting her involved.

Don’t get personally attached. It was a primary rule within the Bureau, one ground into every agent beginning with basic training at Quantico, but Eric realized he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to protocol these days. Aware of her need for independence, he said, “I believe you, but I’m going to hold on to you up the steps anyway. Either that or I’m carrying you up. Your choice.”

She didn’t argue. They made their way across the courtyard and up the stairs, Eric keeping a careful, protective hold around her shoulders in case another wave of dizziness hit. At her door, he took her keys to unlock it. They stepped inside the apartment and Mia gave him her pass code so he could disarm the security system.

“How are you feeling, other than the vertigo?”

She shook her head. “I’m angry with myself. If I’d just stayed under a little longer…”

“Don’t beat yourself up. What you did today took a lot of courage.”

“He was coming back. I could’ve seen him—”

“Remember what Dr. Wilhelm said. Your mind knows how much it can process at one time. You can’t force it.”

Mia didn’t appear convinced. She briefly ran a hand over her eyes.

“Let’s get you to the couch, all right?” He helped her to the sofa in her living room, then sat next to her.

“You don’t have to stay and babysit me.”

Based on the missing Porsche outside, Eric suspected that Mia’s friend, Will Dvorak, wasn’t home. He thought of her admission during the therapy session, about her spending time in foster care, and he wondered if she even had any family to rely on. Other than Will, there didn’t appear to be a man—a significant other—in her life.

“I’m going to make a few phone calls. I need to check in with Agent Vartran. But I’m not leaving, Mia.” He looked into her eyes. “Not until I think you won’t end up facedown on the floor if you try to get up on your own.”

Her fingers clung to his. Eric didn’t pull away. They had been touching one another a lot, and he’d rationalized that it was due to necessity and the sheer emotion of the situation. Their shared need to find and stop a killer. But he also knew himself well enough to understand how drawn he was to her. He hadn’t felt anything like it in a long time. The realization was unsettling.

“If you need some privacy to talk, you can use my office,” she said. “It’s down the hallway, the first room on the left.”

Eric nodded. Withdrawing his fingers from hers, he stood. He watched as she placed one of the sofa cushions on her lap and with a sigh, hugged it to herself. The slanting, dying sunlight that came in through the balcony doors made her appear even more fragile to him.

Her office was efficient and tidy—a laptop sat on the desk, a comfortable-looking love seat, shelves filled with neatly lined books and a police scanner with the volume turned low. There was also a framed degree on the wall from the University of Florida, indicating she’d graduated with honors, as well as several framed photos. In them, he recognized a younger version of Mia, performing in a graceful dance troupe. A small brass plaque underneath one of the photos read Jacksonville Inner-City Ballet.

She was full of surprises.

Lingering among her personal possessions, he moved to a more recent, candid snapshot that sat on the desk. In it, Mia had much longer hair, nearly halfway down her back. Wearing a bathing suit top and denim shorts that revealed her slender, tanned legs, she stood on a pier with Will Dvorak, dazzling blue water and a setting sun behind them. Eric scanned the rest of the room. He noticed that none of the displayed photographs had anyone in them who looked like family—no smiling images of proud parents or siblings with similar dark hair and pale olive skin.

Again, no obvious boyfriend, either. Strange, considering her beauty.

Figuring he’d done enough snooping, Eric made his phone calls.

Fifteen minutes later, he reentered the living room. Mia remained seated where he’d left her. He had half expected her to have fallen back asleep.

“Is there anything new on Anna Lynn Gomez?” she asked.

Eric shook his head. “I spoke to Agent Vartran. The Florida Bureau and JSO have a task force meeting set up for tomorrow morning to restrategize.”

“On a Sunday,” she noted, looking up at him. “No rest for the wicked, so no rest for law enforcement, either.”

“Something like that.” He came closer. “How’s the dizziness?”

“A little better.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

Eric suspected she hadn’t eaten in a while, her nerves deadening her appetite. Having an empty stomach probably wasn’t helping with the light-headedness. He sat back down on the couch, broaching the topic that had been on his mind. “How long were you in foster care?”

“A while,” she replied quietly.

“What about your parents?”

“My father left when I was four years old. He was in the military. He met my mother overseas and brought her back to the States. I don’t really remember him.” She shrugged, smoothing her fingers over the cushion she still held. “My mother, Luri, wasn’t much of a mom. She had some mental issues—bipolar disorder that she wouldn’t take medication for—as well as a drinking problem. Child Services to the rescue…”

Eric heard the cynical edge to her voice. He knew enough about the system to suspect where Mia had ended up—bounced between group homes and private residences, a new place every few months. Probably not feeling very wanted anywhere.

“You hot-wired the car you escaped in, didn’t you?”

“It’s possible,” she admitted. “A guy in one of the homes I was in had a history of car theft. We hung out and he taught me some things. I know how to.”

He now understood why she’d evaded the question when he had asked her the first time—she didn’t want to reveal that part of herself. But the therapy sessions had forced it into the open. Eric wondered how Mia had managed to come through such a tough, grim childhood. She’d graduated from college, she held down a demanding job. He wanted to know more about who she was, but didn’t want her to feel he was prying.

“Depending on what’s in your pantry, I’m going to make you dinner. Or we’ll order takeout, but you need to eat.”

She gazed at him, her brown eyes soft. Unable to help himself, he touched her face.

“It’s going to be okay, Mia,” he murmured.

To his surprise, she settled her head against his chest. Eric wondered if she could hear the heavy thudding of his heart.