Edge of Midnight

8



Eric and Cameron stood in the security office at Jacksonville International Airport, reviewing a digital recording with the facility’s head of security. Anna Lynn Gomez, a twenty-eight-year-old flight attendant, could be seen in the grainy video. She was still in her uniform and rolling her suitcase across the concourse.

“No one appears to be following her,” the heavyset security chief noted. He switched to a time-stamped recording from the parking garage. “And there’s her Nissan Altima driving out of lot B at 11:28 p.m.”

That had been Thursday night, and it was now in the very early hours of Saturday morning. Due to her work schedule, at first neither of Ms. Gomez’s roommates had reported her missing, thinking her layover had been extended somewhere. But when she still hadn’t shown up by Friday evening and failed to return messages left on her cell phone, they had grown concerned and contacted the local authorities.

Which meant she had already been missing for over twenty-four hours.

Eric watched as her car remained stopped at the parking attendant’s booth on the video. Although it was hard to see clearly, she appeared to be alone. He thought of the stolen vehicle that had driven past the area where Pauline Berger’s body was found on Thursday night. If the unsub had been out hunting then, it was possible he’d crossed paths with Ms. Gomez, who would have been headed toward the waterside suburb of Arlington where she rented a house with two other women. Eric considered several scenarios. She could’ve had a flat somewhere on the road, or stopped for gas or a late bite to eat. Any such event could have given her abductor an opportunity.

“The roads aren’t enough—tell the JSO to check parking lots for her car between here and Arlington. Gas stations and restaurants open late in particular,” Eric said as he and Cameron traveled back through the airport. Due to the hour, the terminal held only occasional patches of bleary-eyed travelers.

Cameron took his cell phone from his pocket. They stood in front of a closed Starbucks while he gave instructions to a Sheriff’s Office dispatcher.

“Can we consider for a moment the possibility Ms. Gomez wasn’t abducted?” he asked as they resumed walking. “You saw her on the video, Eric. She’s pretty and young—maybe she’s off with a pilot having hot sex at some beach resort. When we talked to her roommates, they acknowledged she can be impulsive, which I interpreted to be a diplomatic way of saying irresponsible. It’s one of the reasons they waited so long to call.”

“I hope that’s the case.” Eric had seen the flight attendant. Her petite frame and dark hair reminded him of Mia.

“But you don’t think so.”

“Do you?”

Cam shrugged. “Wishful thinking.”

The disappearance of Ms. Gomez had made the Friday late-night news. Combined with the recent discovery of Pauline Berger’s body, the media was hotly speculating on the presence of a serial killer in the metro area. The FBI would be making a formal statement in the morning, and Eric was working on getting a gag order in place prohibiting the press from talking about certain aspects of the investigation. Due to Mia’s involvement, the Courier had already agreed not to publish specific details, but he couldn’t count on other news outlets to have the same discretion. The order was being put in front of a judge at 7:00 a.m.

As they continued through a set of automated glass doors that led into the airport’s parking garage, Cameron checked his watch. “I emailed you the M.E.’s report on Ms. Berger—it came through right after dinner. An analysis of the remaining skin tissue on the abdomen indicates a controlled, superficial laceration.”

“In the shape of the number six?”

“Possibly. There wasn’t enough tissue left to make a full determination. C.O.D. was most likely blunt force trauma. The skull was fractured. There were also several other broken bones.”

Stopping at the elevator, Eric pushed the button. In Maryland, the unsub had killed his victims in multiple ways. Pauline Berger had apparently been beaten to death.

Eric wondered how long they had. If The Collector held true to form, Anna Lynn Gomez was still alive. She’d remain that way until he took another victim.

She’d barely slept after watching the late-evening news.

It was now after four on Saturday afternoon, and Mia stood in shorts and a tank top in the muggy shade of a live oak, waiting outside her apartment building for Eric’s arrival. She had spoken to him only briefly that morning by phone. Even with the latest abduction, he had been intent on keeping their appointment with Dr. Wilhelm.

In fact, he’d said it was more important than ever.

Mia had come outdoors, thinking she would meet him there instead of him climbing the stairs to get her. Not to mention, she’d spent the sunny day inside so far, monitoring the television and police scanner for updates on Anna Lynn Gomez’s disappearance. She needed some fresh air to clear her head.

A red Toyota Prius turned into the driveway.

“How are you, Mia?” Penney Niemen, the third-floor tenant, called as she turned off the car’s ignition and slid from behind the steering wheel. Head chef at a popular vegetarian restaurant on San Marco Square, Penney was tall and willowy, with a mass of curly brown hair.

“I’m fine, Penney, thanks.” Mia walked over to the car.

The other woman hesitated, then added awkwardly, “Will and Justin told me about what…happened. That you’re the unidentified woman on the news.”

She glanced worriedly at Mia’s bandaged fingers and abraded wrists. “I hope you don’t mind—I know the press didn’t release your name. But they thought I should be aware, living upstairs in the same building.”

“It’s okay,” she assured her. “And it happened in the parking garage at the newspaper, not here.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to get away.” Shaking her head, her curls bouncing, she lifted the car’s hatchback to remove a bag of groceries. “It’s like something out of a horror movie. You’re incredibly brave.”

Mia didn’t feel that way. The truth was, she had checked her apartment’s security system repeatedly last night and kept all the overhead lights on, something she wasn’t proud of.

“They told me you were drugged. You really can’t remember anything?”

“Not so far.”

“It’s probably a blessing. If that happened to me, I’m pretty sure I’d become a certified agoraphobic and a gun owner,” Penney said. “They think he took another woman—a flight attendant—last night.”

When they’d talked, Eric had told Mia the little he knew about Anna Lynn Gomez’s disappearance so far. The FBI had released a statement that morning acknowledging that all four abductions, as well as Pauline Berger’s murder, were believed to be the work of a single culprit. JSO deputies and federal agents were currently canvassing the city, looking for the missing woman’s Nissan.

“Aren’t you terrified this psycho might come after you again?”

“According to the FBI, it’s uncommon for this type of serial offender to go after the same person twice,” Mia said, recounting what Eric had told her. She hoped it would put Penney’s mind at ease about living nearby.

“Still, you should be on your guard, Mia. I am. I’ve started carrying Mace.” Penney closed the hatchback. Holding the groceries on one hip, she used her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Look, I feel bad about not checking on you earlier. I’ve been working double shifts at the restaurant all week. And to be honest, I think all this has me a little freaked out. I live alone…”

“I understand.” The two women didn’t know one another all that well, anyway, mostly talking as they passed on the stairs to and from work, or attending the occasional party that Will and Justin threw. “I’m sure the restaurant keeps you busy.”

“I’ll bring you some treats—maybe some brownies?”

Vegetarian or not, Slice of Life was known for having some of the best pastries around. “Thanks.”

The building had curving exterior staircases. Mia watched as Penney went up the stairs on the left and disappeared on the third-floor landing. A moment later, Eric’s rental sedan pulled in behind the Prius. Mia came forward as he exited the car. He appeared tired, and she imagined he hadn’t had much rest since another missing woman was reported.

“Any updates?” she asked.

He opened the passenger-side door for her. The car’s air conditioner was running hard, battling the Florida humidity. “We located Ms. Gomez’s Nissan an hour ago. It was in the parking lot of a Bargain-Mart off the Arlington Expressway.”

The discovery eliminated any possibility that the young woman had just gotten a wild hair and gone off on her own free will. Mia felt a troubling disquiet.

Eric squinted at her in the strong sunlight. “Why would a woman stop at a place like that, alone, at nearly midnight?”

“Lots of reasons,” she answered honestly. “Tampons. Emergency wine.”

He seemed to appreciate her candidness. Touching her shoulder, he said, “We should go.”

Placing a framed photo out of the way, Dr. Wilhelm perched on the edge of his desk in his office at the Naval Air Station. His face appeared a little sunburned from his golf outing earlier that morning.

“Did you experience any aftereffects from yesterday’s session?” he asked Mia.

“I had a pretty vivid dream last night.” She pressed her hands into her lap, aware Eric’s eyes were on her, as well. “But it didn’t really make any sense.”

“Can you describe it?”

She released a breath. “I was a child, sitting on a street curb with a little red-haired girl. She and I were holding hands.”

“And where were you exactly?”

“Outside a foster care group home.” Mia felt exposed. She didn’t like discussing her past, but she wanted to be truthful for the sake of the therapy. “I was in the system as a child. I lived at the group home for several weeks before being moved to a foster family. The dream’s setting was real but I don’t remember the girl being there at all.”

“Did you and the other child talk in your dream?”

“She told me not to be scared. That things would get better.”

Dr. Wilhelm nodded thoughtfully. “What else happened?”

“A car drove past us. A blue hatchback of some kind. It slowed down and then it started to back up—I woke up then. The dream was very brief.”

“Did you see who was driving the car?”

Her chest tightened at the recollection. “It was a man but his face was in the shadows. I couldn’t see him but he gave me a bad feeling.”

She glanced at Eric and saw the concern on his features before looking back to the psychiatrist. “Couldn’t this just be a run-of-the-mill, weird dream? Does it have to mean something?”

Dr. Wilhelm shifted his weight on the desk. “I think at the least it means you have the potential to be very receptive to the therapy. As you slept, your mind opened up, Mia. What was your experience like at the group home?”

“I hated it,” she confessed. Head bowed, she stared at her bandaged fingers. “I was afraid and I missed my mother.”

“So your mind took you someplace you didn’t want to go. Which is exactly what we need to accomplish.”

Mia looked up. “But the little girl wasn’t real and I don’t remember the event with the car, either.”

“That’s all right,” Dr. Wilhelm said. He took a ballpoint pen from the pocket of his lab coat and absently clicked its top up and down as he spoke. “While the dream could be a repressed childhood memory, my opinion is that it’s actually emblematic. I think the man in the car is symbolic of your abductor. Your mind returned to a time when you were a child, when you felt most vulnerable, because it parallels the vulnerability you’re feeling now as a victim.”

It made sense, Mia admitted to herself. “What about the little girl?”

“Cissy Cox, one of the still-missing victims, is a redhead,” Eric noted.

“So she was symbolic, too?”

“Possibly.” Dr. Wilhelm rose from where he’d been seated. “What I want to do today is start by focusing on the moments leading up to your abduction again. I understand another woman was reported missing last night, so time is of the essence. As we’ve discussed, I’d like to give you a higher concentration of the catalyzing drug. That, combined with anything still in your system from yesterday, should help us tap into your memories.”

Mia gave a small nod of consent. This time Dr. Wilhelm already had the syringe prepared and he walked to where she sat on the couch. She tried to distract herself from what he was doing by watching Eric as he paced the room.

“Lie down, Mia,” Dr. Wilhelm instructed once he’d given her the injection. “This is a stronger dosage—you might feel some dizziness this time. I’ll let you relax for a bit and then I’ll rejoin you. Agent Macfarlane?”

“Please stay,” she said softly to Eric. The psychiatrist nodded, closed the blinds and left the room.

Overhead, Mia heard the intermittent roar of military planes as they took off from the Naval Air Station’s tarmac. Focusing on their sound, she reclined and closed her eyes, but opened them again when she sensed Eric sitting in the armchair next to the couch. He leaned forward so that he was closer to her, his elbows resting on his knees. A frown creased his forehead.

“I appreciate what you’re doing,” he murmured. “I want you to know that.”

Mia placed her hand on his forearm. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and she felt the hard sinews under his warm skin, the faint sprinkling of male hair. “I’m going to try to do better this time.”

His expression appeared tense. “Whatever happens, it’s all right.”

Her fingers grazed his wrist, and then she closed her eyes.

As she lay in silence, Mia felt a warm fuzziness spread through her, the sensation much stronger than the day before. She wasn’t asleep, but her body felt relaxed and buoyant, as if she were floating on the ocean or in a backyard pool. She wasn’t aware of Dr. Wilhelm reentering the room, but she heard him speak.

“Let’s go back to the night in your newspaper’s parking garage,” he suggested in a calm tone. “It’s late and you just filed your story. You’re headed home. Tell me what you see, Mia.”

“My car,” she whispered, concentrating on the steel-and-concrete deck surrounding her. It was as if she really were there, but at the same time she remained tethered to Dr. Wilhelm’s voice. “I’m parked in the last spot on the first row.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…walking. I have my keys.” Just like the last time, she felt the hard shape of the key fob in her hand. Mia pressed the device and it gave a bright chirp in response. Opening the Volvo’s door, she tossed her purse inside and slid onto the cool leather seat.

“Are you inside the car now?”

She nodded. “I’m…looking in my purse for my cell phone. I’m going to order takeout on my way home and—”

Her heart lurched, scalded by surprise and fear. An arm curled tightly around her throat, yanking her backward against the headrest and cutting off her windpipe. She tried to get free, tried to scream but nothing more than a few breathy gasps escaped her. She couldn’t breathe. Her fingers clawed at the hard, corded vise choking her and she felt a sharp stab of pain in the side of her neck. Within seconds it became harder to fight. Her hands felt heavy and uncoordinated, then dropped limply to her sides on the car seat. She wanted to blow the Volvo’s horn or set off the panic button on the key fob dangling from the ignition switch, but she couldn’t gain control of her fingers. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

The shadowed form behind her smelled faintly of aftershave. Only his eyes were visible in the rearview mirror. She felt a kiss against her right temple.

“Hello, Mia. You’re even prettier than I imagined.”