Edge of Midnight

10



The reclaimed memories had overwhelmed her. Leaning against Eric’s chest, Mia felt safe and protected. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his big hands stroking her back. The gun on his hip cut into her side but she ignored it, giving in to the indulgence of being close to him, if only for a little while.

After several long moments, she pulled away and uncertainly met his gaze. His eyes had darkened. He swallowed hard.

“I’m going to see about that food,” he said hoarsely.

Sliding his fingers over the soft skin of her forearm, Eric got up and went into the kitchen, leaving her on the couch. Mia curled onto her side. She drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the sound of running water and the occasional rattle of a pan or the close of the refrigerator door. She felt overly emotional, and having his presence in her apartment was like a soothing balm on her frayed nerves.

“Mia?”

She awoke sometime later to the sound of his voice and realized her catnapping had turned into a full-on slumber. He leaned over her, and she wondered how long she’d been out. How long he’d been watching her sleep.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better, I think. No more dizziness,” she said as she slowly moved to a sitting position.

“That’s good. Do you want to eat?”

She got to her feet, testing her steadiness. Much of the light coming in from outside had died away, but Eric had turned on a few lamps and there was a warm glow emanating from her breakfast nook. Mia wandered into the cozy eating area and saw he was true to his word. He’d prepared a pasta carbona with linguine, bacon, some fading parsley from the refrigerator’s vegetable drawer, and cream. The scent was heavenly. He’d also put out a beer for himself and a goblet filled with ice water for her. As Eric pulled out her chair, she noticed he’d abandoned his tie somewhere as well as his holstered gun. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, the top buttons of his dress shirt open, and she could see the white cotton of his T-shirt at his throat. He sat across from her and dished pasta onto her plate.

“I can’t believe you made a meal out of the pathetic scraps in my kitchen. This looks really good.”

“I like to cook—it relaxes me.” He added quietly, “I used to do it for my wife.”

At his words, she felt a pang of compassion. One of the online articles had included Rebecca Macfarlane’s photo. She’d been blonde and fashion-model pretty—an interior designer by trade, according to the piece. Mia figured they had made a striking couple.

“How long were you married?” she asked tentatively.

“Five years.”

Then you know why stopping this psychopath is so important to me. Mia recalled the intensity of his statement the day before.

As they ate, they moved to easier subjects, including Mia’s pending return to the Courier the following week. They also talked about the next session with Dr. Wilhelm that had been scheduled for Tuesday, the earliest the psychiatrist would agree to another round of the catalyzing drug. The prospect of going back under hypnosis caused a ripple of anxiety to run through her, but she was determined to return to that room and remain there long enough to see her abductor’s face.

Eric had stressed to her that he believed Cissy Cox was dead. But in her memory, she’d been alive and breathing, squirming against the ropes that bound her to a hook in the cinder-block wall. Was it possible Mia herself had escaped, but left the other captive woman behind? She couldn’t imagine doing something so terrible.

“You all right?”

She nodded, shoving down her thoughts.

Once they were done with dinner, he stood and began clearing the table. “I’ve got this. You should rest.”

“I’ll help. With everything going on, you couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours’ sleep last night.” She picked up her plate but he reached for it, bringing the two of them face-to-face.

“Eric…I appreciate dinner, and you staying with me.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, serious. “I’m the one asking you to relive a nightmare.”

“May I ask you a question?” She set the plate back on the table and searched his eyes. “What frightens you? I mean, these psychotic, sadistic men you pursue—”

“You write about them,” he pointed out.

“Most of the time I report on drug-related shootings and bank robberies. Domestic violence that ended up as a homicide. They’re bad things but they’re not like this.” She felt a rush of nerves just talking about it. “What you chase at the VCU is pure evil, Eric. These men are monsters that live for the thrill of torture, of having someone under their total control. It’s not about money or a crime of passion. These animals have a sadistic need to inflict pain and fear. They live for it.”

His gaze was sincere. “I am afraid sometimes. I’d be a fool not to be. But I’m more afraid of letting them continue to roam free so they can keep killing. Keep taking other people’s loved ones.”

He was thinking of his wife. For a brief moment, Mia wondered what it must have been like to be loved by him. She thought of the solidness of his body as he held her a short time earlier.

Eric moved closer to her, his voice low. “I understand if you’re scared, Mia. And I’ve told you, we’re in this together.”

Her throat dried with need as she gazed up at him. She craved more of his hands on her, she realized. Unable to help herself, Mia touched his shirtfront. The air seemed charged around them as they stared at one another. But a hard knock at the door shattered their connection. Eric clasped the back of his neck with one hand and stepped away. She went to the foyer, her face hot. Looking out through the peephole, she swallowed a sigh and opened the door.

Grayson swept into the apartment like a storm tide. “Jesus, Mia. Don’t you return messages anymore? I’ve called you twice already today. I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been out.” She hadn’t told Grayson about the sessions at the NAS, mostly due to the strict need for confidentiality. But as her boss, he would need to know eventually, since he would be aware of her comings and goings from the newspaper. She’d have to trust him.

“Where’ve you been? It’s Saturday night. Don’t tell me you had a date—”

He stopped speaking, seeing Eric standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Mia made the introductions.

“Grayson Miller, this is Agent Eric Macfarlane with the FBI. Eric, Grayson is executive editor of the Jacksonville Courier.”

Clearly taken by surprise, Grayson stepped forward and the two men shook hands. “You’re here due to the recent abductions and murder, Agent Macfarlane.”

“I am.” He looked at Mia. “And I should probably be going.”

“Anything new on the Anna Lynn Gomez disappearance?”

“Unfortunately, no. Nothing beyond her car being found earlier today, which the news channels are already reporting. Agent Vartran with the Florida Bureau is overseeing an ongoing canvas of the area where it was found. I’m on my way there now.” He walked to the granite pass-through counter and retrieved his holstered gun, clipping it back onto his waist. To Mia he said, “You’re sure you’re all right?”

She nodded. “I’ll take care of the kitchen.”

“Call me if you need anything.” Their eyes held for a bare second before Eric moved to the foyer and let himself out. Mia felt a tingle of disappointment. She turned to Grayson again, his gaze on the table that had obviously been set for two.

“Good-looking guy,” he noted.

Mia pressed her lips together, aware his curiosity was piqued. He noticed Eric’s silk tie that had been left draped over one of the bar stools, and he made a point of folding it neatly before placing it on the counter.

“Did I walk in on something?” His tone remained casual although she noticed a tightness around his mouth, something she’d witnessed before in the newsroom when the pressure got high.

She went to the table, planning to finish clearing the dishes. “We just had dinner.”

Grayson said nothing. He shoved his hands inside his pockets, his eyebrows raising faintly.

“It’s not what you think. And I need to tell you about something confidentially.”

“Confidential as in off the record?”

“I need to talk to you as a friend, not a newsman. I need your discretion.”

She told him about the experimental therapy.

Eric stood outside the apartment building, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He hadn’t yet gotten into his car and as he listened to Cameron, he stared up at the light emanating from Mia’s windows.

“Ms. Gomez used her credit card inside the Bargain-Mart at 11:58 on Thursday night,” Cam told him. “She can be seen leaving on security footage from inside the store’s vestibule, but not outside. Store management concedes there’s a camera blind spot in the parking lot of about fifty feet to the left of the front entrance.”

“That’s the route to her car?”

“You got it.”

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “So the guy’s either lucky or he’s familiar with the camera range.”

“We’re running background checks on store personnel now, as well as employees of the company that installed the CCTV system four years ago. I interviewed the store’s security team myself—no red flags. By the way, Ms. Gomez’s purchase was found in a Dumpster behind the building, still in the bag with the receipt.”

“What did she purchase?”

“Chewing gum and tampons. Why?”

“No reason.” The night was humid, and a warm breeze ruffled the fronds of the palm trees lining the property’s front. “I’m on my way there, all right?”

“How did the session with Ms. Hale go?”

Eric briefly filled him in, then disconnected the call as Will Dvorak’s Porsche convertible pulled into the driveway.

“Agent Macfarlane,” Will said in greeting as he got out. An Asian man exited the passenger side, and he introduced him to Eric as his partner, Justin Cho. After a moment, Justin excused himself and went into the ground-floor unit.

“Are you coming or going, Agent?” Will asked.

“Going, actually.”

“I see Mia has a guest.” He indicated the car parked next to Eric’s.

“Grayson Miller—we met upstairs.” The man seemed nice enough, although Eric had detected a territorialism when he’d discovered Mia wasn’t alone. He was pretty sure most editors didn’t check in on reporters at their homes on Saturday nights, and he wondered how far their relationship went outside the workplace. He realized he didn’t like the idea of it being more than a supervisor-employee situation. Miller was too old for her.

“I know you and Mia are close—”

“She’s told me about the mad scientist experiment at the naval base,” Will remarked drily, although his gaze was somber and direct. “As her friend I advised her not to do it.”

Eric released a breath. At least someone was looking out for her well-being.

“I may sound overprotective, but Mia’s been through a lot. And I’m not just talking about the past week. She’s had a hard life. I understand you have a major investigation on your hands, but be careful with her, Agent Macfarlane. The abduction took a bigger toll on her than she’ll ever admit.” Will bid him good-night and began to walk through the courtyard, but Eric’s request halted him.

“Tell me about her mother.”

Turning, he looked surprised. “She mentioned Luri to you?”

“Indirectly. She told me about growing up in foster care.”

“That’s something she rarely talks about.” Will returned to where Eric stood. He shook his head. “Luri Hale had Mia on a yo-yo. She would clean up her act long enough to get her back, then start the cycle of neglect and abuse all over again. Mia was in and out of the system for years, but she was always eventually sent back to Luri—the courts are big on the biological rights of the mother and keeping families together. Mia’s hell continued until she was granted emancipation at sixteen.”

“Her mother didn’t object to the petition?”

“She didn’t have a choice.” He hesitated as if trying to decide how much more to divulge. “Luri was beautiful and there were lots of men around. Men she accepted money from on occasion for favors.”

Will paused again. “She attempted to…prostitute her own daughter. Mia threatened to go to the police if she didn’t sign the court papers.”

The information was shocking. Mia had said her mother was bipolar, but Eric couldn’t accept that as an excuse. He thought of someone that young being out on her own. “Does she have other family?”

“Justin and I are it.”

He frowned. “Your concerns are noted, Mr. Dvorak—”

“Please, Will.”

“I don’t want to put Mia through any more hardship. I promise I’ll do everything I can to minimize the impact on her, but we need her help. Women are dead and another one’s life is at stake. In the meantime, what I was going to ask is that you keep an eye out for anything suspicious around here.”

He nodded. “Of course. She told you about the car, right?”

“What car?”

“It was two nights ago. Mia was returning from a crime scene, I think, and she thought someone was following her. She made a commotion out here in the driveway so Justin and I would come out.”

Eric thought of the unsub out hunting that same night. “Did you see the vehicle?”

“No. Mia decided she’d freaked herself out and imagined the whole thing. Maybe she did. She was embarrassed about it, but also pretty shook up. I realized then how much all of this is getting to her.”

A short time later, Will said good-night and went inside. As Eric opened the door to his car, his gaze returned briefly to the building’s second floor. He wondered why Mia hadn’t told him about the possibility she’d been followed. The nighttime breeze had died away, leaving a dead quiet around him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling it was the calm before the storm.