Edge of Midnight

by Leslie Tentler

  “Dr. Wilhelm can see Ms. Hale at three today.”

  “She’s a trouper to go along with it.”

  Eric thought of the anguish he’d witnessed in Mia’s eyes the previous night. He had been worried she might change her mind, but when he’d called her earlier that day about the scheduled appointment, to her credit she hadn’t tried to back out.

  “You’re going with her?”

  “I want to hear anything she might recall firsthand.” He paused as a noisy group of sandhill cranes flew overhead. Several of the large, storklike birds were already fishing at the water’s shallow edge. “Besides, I’m the one who asked her to do this and I don’t want her to go through it alone.”

  Cameron checked his wristwatch. “You should get going, then. You’ll probably want to shower and change first. I’ll stay out here with the team to finish up the water search, at least for today. I figured a larger exploration out here was a long shot, but we’d be remiss not to do it. The problem is the river’s just too damn big.”

  “Has anyone spoken to Pauline Berger’s family?”

  “We’re withholding official notification pending the M.E. report. But unofficially we’ve already been in touch with next of kin and prepared them on the likelihood. I wanted to let them know before they turned on the news, heard about the female floater and put two and two together. Not to mention, the press are already speculating the body is one of the abducted women. No acknowledgment from us or the JSO, of course.”

  Eric had caught part of the local morning news prior to heading out to the river. He thought of the waiting families and it gave him a dull ache. “What about Cissy Cox’s relatives?”

  “We contacted her family as well and told them the body wasn’t a match. It gave them some relief, at least for a little while.”

  He figured Cam was thinking about the same thing he was—the possibility that her remains were also out here, somewhere.

  Cameron wore a baseball cap with the FBI logo emblazoned on it, and he lifted it from his hair to wipe his perspiring forehead. He moved to a lighter topic. “You still coming to dinner tonight?”

  “Unless something changes with the investigation, I’ll be there.”

  “Come around eight o’clock—I told Lanie we’d have to eat late. She’s in a major nesting phase so be prepared for something extravagant.” He smiled and shook his head. “She had issues of Martha Stewart spread out all over the kitchen when I got home last night.”

  “Agent Vartran? Agent Macfarlane?” A uniformed deputy strode toward them across the gravel lot. The man was heavily tanned, his already blond hair bleached nearly white by the sun. “I’m Deputy Hammond. Detective Boyet wanted me to let you know something that might be of interest.”

  They all shook hands. He pointed out to the two-lane road. “Last night, one of our men assigned to keep cars from stopping and gawking ran a few license plates, just for the hell of it. You never know when someone with an outstanding warrant might show up in the database, right?”

  Cameron shifted his weight. “Anything come up?”

  “Not last night. They were all clean.” He placed his hands on his gun belt. “But one of the vehicles that came through here was reported stolen as of this morning. The owner’s staying at one of the golf resorts in Ponte Vedra and hadn’t used his car since yesterday afternoon. He only noticed it missing at around 11:00 a.m. today when he got ready to check out of the hotel.”

  “Which means someone else drove it through here last night.” Eric understood why Boyet thought the information important. Along with the car Mia had been driving the night she escaped, it increased the possibility the unsub was using stolen vehicles for the abductions—eliminating any chance of being identified through license plates. Still, riding around in a hot car was a risk in itself. So was driving it past the dump site. But some perpetrators got off on seeing the turmoil they’d caused. Arsonists as well as murderers had been known to stand in crowds of onlookers, reliving their experience. If that were the case, however, Eric doubted the unsub had stolen another vehicle just to have a look. He probably had done it for a dual purpose. Like abducting another woman.

  “What’s the car’s make?”

  The deputy’s silvered sunglass lenses reflected like mirrors. He swatted at a pesky fly. “Black Audi A4, turbo charge. We’ve got an APB issued for the model and tags.”

  Cameron’s cell phone went off. He answered it, said a few words and then closed its cover. “That was Agent Olkarski upstream. The divers recovered plastic sheeting tangled around the leg of a dock. It has indentations consistent with the binding found on the body.”

  “Anything nearby on the river floor that might have been the anchor?” Eric asked.

  “Two standard-grade cinder blocks with frayed ropes on them. Nothing distinctive. The ropes and sheeting could’ve come from any home improvement store in the area.”

  Eric stared out over the murky water. It wasn’t the break he’d been hoping for.

  Mia had expected a high-rise building comprised of steel and glass. Sterile, isolated corridors. High-tech fingerprint scans required to open solid metal doors. But Dr. Günter Wilhelm’s office was located in an unassuming, one-story brick office complex inside the Jacksonville Naval Air Station base. She sat on a hunter-green-striped couch across from the psychiatrist’s desk while Eric had taken the matching side chair. To her right, a large picture window provided a view of the adjacent naval hospital. The room was tastefully decorated and held the faint scent of pipe tobacco and citrus potpourri.

  “Agent Macfarlane has apprised me of the investigation as well as your role in it, Mia,” Dr. Wilhelm stated in a slight German accent. He was a fatherly looking man, with graying hair and a starched white lab coat. “You must understand there are no guarantees. The therapy has worked for only about thirty percent of the participants, and to varying degrees. A few of those have remembered large amounts of detail, but for most others it is far less.”

  Mia tried to wrench any anxiety from her voice. “If it’s successful, what kind of things might I remember?”

  “Possibly a visual image—a face or a location, a shred of dialog. It’s difficult to say since every case is different. You’d also be the first patient I’ve worked with whose memory loss was induced by a chemical substance. I’m unsure of how it will affect the outcomes.”

  Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She tried to imagine what it might be like to actually see or hear something from those lost hours.

  “What about the risks?” Eric asked. He was dressed in dark suit pants, a white shirt and tie, his suit jacket left behind in the car in deference to the heat.

  “There can be physical side effects, although they’re typically short-term. Some patients have reported a headache or dizziness for an hour or two after our sessions. In a few extreme cases, an elevation in blood pressure.”

  Mia toyed with her bandaged fingers. “What kind of drug is it, exactly?”

  “In layman’s terms, it’s known as a mental catalyst. When used in combination with the right hypnotherapy, it makes it more possible to delve into untapped channels within the mind.” Dr. Wilhelm smiled, a benevolent look on his face as he explained. “These channels hold memories we may not even be aware of. For example, a repressed childhood memory or something that might have happened when one was injured and unconscious, supposedly unable to hear or process thought. We’ve been able to prove the mind is capable of capturing event fragments even in such situations. The memories are there. Tapping into them and bringing them to the surface is the real feat.”

  Mia said half-jokingly, “I’m guessing this catalyst isn’t FDA-approved.”

  “You needn’t worry overly—the drug is nonaddictive and has been tested in military clinical trials.” He paused, clearing his throat. “However, its effect when used with hypnotherapy has proved to be potent, when it works. The memory captures can be quite vivid, which may be unsettling considering your circumstances, Mia
. Not to mention, even once the drug has left your system there is a possibility of memory flashes.”

  “Memory flashes?” Eric asked.

  “She may recall certain things outside of the session itself.” The psychiatrist tapped his right temple. “Once the window is opened…”

  There’s no closing it. Mia looked at Eric and found his gaze on her. She hoped the tightness she felt in her lungs wasn’t communicated on her features. It would be so easy to change her mind and retreat. But she thought of the rotting corpse that had been pulled from the water. She also thought of Rebecca Macfarlane. Whatever she remembered couldn’t be worse than what those poor women had gone through. Sounding much braver than she felt, she asked, “How do we start?”

  Dr. Wilhelm indicated a folder on his desk. “I received your medical records from your physician. You had a recent examination while you were hospitalized earlier this week and appear to be in excellent health. You’ve also signed the necessary waivers. Considering the urgency of Agent Macfarlane’s investigation, there’s no reason we can’t start now.”

  “Let’s do it,” Mia said firmly, tamping down her anxiety.

  He stood from behind his desk. “I’ll go prepare the syringe. I’m going to try a relatively light dosage today and gauge its effect.”

  Once the psychiatrist had left the office, Mia stood and wandered over to the picture window. Jets taking off from the naval base were visible in the hazy afternoon sky, and she could hear their thunderlike roar. She felt Eric’s presence behind her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She turned to face him, her heart skipping a beat as she realized his closeness. Mia smiled weakly up at him. “I guess I hadn’t anticipated needles.”

  Despite her attempt at humor, he remained serious. “You don’t have to do this—”

  “I do,” she replied. “And you need me to.”

  He stared at her, his intense, moss-green eyes searching hers.

  “Thank you,” he said, touching her upper arm. His fingers on her bare skin sent a tingle racing through her. He dropped his hand as they heard Dr. Wilhelm return.

  “Once the drug is administered, we’ll give it a little time to take effect and then we’ll begin with some mind relaxation techniques,” he said as he indicated the couch. Mia blanched at the small hypodermic needle he held. She’d never quite gotten past her childish fear of them.

  She returned to where she’d been seated. Looking purposely away, she felt him tie the rubber tubing around her right biceps and then the sharp prick of the needle in the inside of her forearm.

  “Why don’t you lie down and close your eyes? Focus on slow, deep breathing.” Dr. Wilhelm dimmed the lights in the room, then went over to lower the window blinds, choking out the bright afternoon sunlight. “Imagine you’re sitting in a theater, all alone, facing a blank, white screen.”

  Smoothing down her sleeveless linen blouse over her cropped khakis, Mia settled herself on the couch. She felt a little foolish. Eric stood silently with his arms crossed over his chest, his features strained.

  She gave him a final look, took a breath and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Eric glanced at her from behind the steering wheel. “Don’t be. Dr. Wilhelm said it could take a few sessions to know if it’s going to work. The good news is that you responded to the hypnosis. Not everyone does.”

  It was true; she had fallen under the psychiatrist’s hypnotic suggestions. Mia had felt herself relaxing, being slowly drawn backward to the moment of her disappearance. It had all seemed so real. She recalled hearing the echo of her own footsteps on the concrete floor of the parking garage, the cheerful chirp of her car’s key fob as she unlocked the door. She had been hungry and thinking about what to have for dinner as she slid into the driver’s seat. But at that precise moment, the screen inside her head went blank. Dr. Wilhelm had taken her through that critical time span using various approaches, hoping she might recall seeing her abductor. None of them had worked. Her memory seemed to stop at the moment she closed the car door. He had mentioned the possibility of using a higher concentration of the drug during their next session, as a way to get past what he had called a trauma block.

  “How are you feeling?” Eric asked.

  Mia touched the injection site on her arm, which was a little sore. “I’m fine. No headache or dizziness.”

  “I want you to call me if that changes.”

  They were headed over the bridge toward San Marco. The late afternoon sun sat lower in the sky and cast golden dapples of light across the omnipresent river. It was slow going since they were caught in the Friday rush hour, with traffic inching along. She glanced at Eric’s profile and thought again of the brief moment they seemed to have shared inside the psychiatrist’s office. There was no denying she felt an attraction to him. Mia realized it only complicated her situation.

  “I’m going back to work next week,” she announced.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”

  “You sound like my editor.” She tucked her hair behind one ear as she gazed out the window. “I asked for the abduction story back. He said no.”

  “Smart man.”

  Mia looked at him. “The no is temporary. No as in not yet. He wants me to handle smaller assignments for a while, but I’m hoping to convince him otherwise.”

  “I’m being honest with you, Mia. Your name on those articles already attracted this guy’s attention once. Putting yourself back out there like that…” He shook his head. “It would be rare for someone like this to go after the same person twice, but he could see it as a challenge. It’s just not a good idea.”

  His cell phone rang. Mia lapsed into silence, hearing only Eric’s side of the conversation. Still, it was pretty clear what they were talking about. She felt her stomach clench as she thought of Pauline Berger.

  “The M.E. made the identification through dental records,” he said. “Two of the teeth were missing, however.”

  Mia closed her eyes, feeling a coldness creep over her despite the warm sun beating down on her through the windshield. She realized she’d referred to the investigation as an abduction case a few moments earlier. That had now officially changed.

  A short time later, they pulled in front of her apartment building. Will’s convertible was gone, although the third-floor tenant appeared to be at home judging by her Toyota Prius in the driveway.

  “Wait there. I’ll walk you up.” Eric exited the vehicle. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. It was something he’d done at the Naval Air Station, as well. Normally, she would scoff at such old-fashioned behavior, but it seemed to suit him as if it were second nature, something ingrained in his DNA. Mia was reminded of his family tree. She imagined private prep schools and cotillions, an Ivy League college education. It was a vast difference from her own background.

  As they went up the steps to the building’s second floor, she asked, “Are you going to speak with Pauline Berger’s family?”

  “Agent Vartran is on his way to see them, along with Detective Boyet and Detective Scofield.”

  At the top of the stairs, he took her keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open for her and then handing them back. “I’ll pick you up at four-thirty tomorrow?”

  Mia nodded, entering her pass code into the security system console as they stepped inside. Even though the following day was Saturday, Dr. Wilhelm had recommended another session within twenty-four hours. He’d suggested the late-afternoon time frame so he could get in a round of golf with some visiting military VIPs.

  “I imagine Dr. Wilhelm doesn’t schedule Saturday appointments for just anyone,” she acknowledged softly, looking up into his face. Her searching gaze held his for several long moments. “I’m a journalist, Eric…I do research. I’ve looked into the Maryland investigation.”

  She saw the small lines of tension form around his eyes. Several beats of silence passed before he spoke. “Then you kn
ow why stopping this psychopath is so important to me.”

  After he was gone, Mia stood alone inside her apartment. She had believed it important for him to know that she knew.

  She thought of Pauline Berger’s husband and understood why Eric hadn’t gone with the others to deliver the heartbreaking news.

  7

  The two little girls sat on a street curb nearly hot enough to burn the backs of their thighs. Mia felt sweat roll down her face and she wiped it away with a skinny forearm. Miss Cathy—as she made them call her—didn’t like kids in the house.

  There’s a water hose out back if you’re thirsty. You can come in at dark. Have dinner and wash up. No talking. Go to bed.

  Mia felt a sickness in her stomach. She didn’t like it here. Three days had passed since the lady who frowned and wore too much perfume dropped her off.

  “Don’t be scared, Mia,” her new friend said, taking her hand. The girl had scraggly, reddish hair and was about her same age. There were a lot of kids who lived in the house. None of them were Miss Cathy’s own children. Mia felt tears sting her eyes.

  “It’ll get better, you’ll see.”

  A car came down the residential street, a powder-blue hatchback with a white racing stripe and loud engine. It slowed as it went past. The driver stared at them, turning his head to look for as long as he could. His face was in the shadows, but something about him made her want to run and hide.

  The car stopped and began to back up.

  Mia jerked awake on the couch. Sitting up in her living room, she ran a hand over her face, her heart thudding. The dream had been so real.

  She hadn’t thought of Miss Cathy’s in years. She had lived there for only a few weeks, her first in a long line of foster care homes. But Mia didn’t recall a red-haired girl ever being there or a man in a car at all. She wondered if Dr. Wilhelm’s therapy session had confused her subconscious.

  One thing was for certain; it had exhausted her more than she realized.