Edge of Midnight

by Leslie Tentler

  Moving closer to Mia in the room’s subdued lighting, he felt his insides twist. His neckties had been used to bind her forearms to the chair, another used as a gag. Her right cheekbone appeared swollen and her neck bruised. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes in stark contrast to her deathly pale skin.

  Eric winced. The wounds on her fingers had been reopened and were bleeding badly. Two more fingernails had been removed. He wondered how long Levi had been here—how long she’d had to endure his torture. He shoved down his anger, knowing it would get them both killed. One of the deputy’s shoulder radios lay on the coffee table on top of his paperwork. He realized that when he’d called the second time, he had been speaking to Levi instead. It confirmed he’d used a voice disguiser in the audio recordings.

  “As you can see, we’ve been having a little fun while we waited.”

  “Waited?” he asked.

  “For you, of course. Are you carrying any other weapons?”

  “No.”

  “Mind if I check? Hands on your head. Now.” Levi kept behind him, shoving the gun into his spine. Eric raised his hands like a suspect being placed under arrest and interlocked his fingers behind his neck. He remained motionless as Levi patted him down, keeping the firearm’s barrel snug against his body as he checked for another gun. He took his cell phone. When he was satisfied, he said, “Now turn around slowly.”

  They came face-to-face. Nearly as tall as Eric, Levi was an animated version of the artist’s sketch—receding dark hairline, finely arched brows, a somewhat weak chin. A face that could easily blend in or be forgotten. But the pale eyes were bloodshot and cold. He smiled thinly, enjoying the fact that he had the upper hand. The gun was pointed at Eric’s chest.

  “You raided my home tonight. Did you find my girls?”

  He gave a faint nod. “We found your mother, too.”

  For a split second, the cool veneer disappeared. Regret flashed in Levi’s eyes before it flickered out again. “Then you saw the vial marked Rebecca. Very lovely woman, your wife. I recall how she screamed for you as I was cutting her up. But you know that already. I sent you the audio to remember her by.”

  Eric’s jaw tightened but he held Levi’s stare. He had to stay calm.

  Mia moaned, her head moving weakly. She was beginning to come around.

  “You attract the pretty ones, don’t you?”

  When Eric made no comment, Levi added, “Oh, come now. You’re quite handsome, Agent Macfarlane. I saw the two of you outside her apartment building that night. You practically made love to her in the shadow of the squad car. You’ve been spending your nights here with her. A convenient setup, I think. The sheets on the couch are a nice touch, but I’m sure you’ve been slipping into her bed. A lonely widower like you must have needs.”

  Keeping the gun on Eric, he ambled around behind Mia. “Let’s help her wake up.”

  Eric’s hands clenched into fists as Levi roughly grabbed her hair with one hand, snapping her head back. Her soft brown eyes fluttered and she cried out through the gag. Tears trickled down her face when she saw him, her gaze locking with his. Eric’s heart ached.

  “There’s your hero, Mia. But he won’t be able to save you, either. You’ll be the second of two loves he’s failed.” He reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out a pair of nickel-plated handcuffs. “I went through your things while we were waiting—I hope you don’t mind. I thought these might come in handy.”

  He tossed them to Eric and nodded to a second spindle-back armchair that had been relocated from the dining area. “You know what to do. Your right wrist, please.”

  The chair faced Mia but was about a dozen feet away. Levi put the gun to her head to show he meant business. Eric had no alternative. He sat down in it and snapped one of the cuffs on his wrist, the other on the chair arm, giving it a tug to show they were secure.

  Satisfied, Levi walked over. His lips twisted into a sneer. “I didn’t appreciate what you said about me at your press conference.”

  Hauling his arm back, he struck Eric’s temple hard with the gun barrel. Pain exploded inside his head, his vision blurring and the room tilting. He heard Mia whimper.

  “I’m in charge now, Agent. And I’m hardly the underachiever you think I am.”

  Don’t black out. Warmth ran down the side of his face. Several heavy drops of blood splashed onto his shirtfront.

  Levi returned to Mia. Her injured fingers were splayed on the chair arm, secured tightly in place. He applied pressure to the oozing wounds with the heel of his hand. She released a muffled, agonized scream and tried to lurch off the chair.

  “Don’t touch her!” Breathing heavily, dizzy from the hard blow, Eric attempted to draw Levi’s focus back to him. “It’s me you’re pissed off with! I’m here.”

  “I have to admit, I have been playing with her fragile fingers for a while now. All right, Agent. You don’t want me to touch her—let’s move on to a new game.”

  Levi took something from the table. A transparent dry cleaning bag. He snapped it in the air to open it. Every muscle, every nerve under Eric’s skin jumped to attention. His clothes had been inside it, hanging in the bedroom closet.

  “It’s interesting how one can find lethal instruments in the most mundane things,” Levi said with a smile.

  Eric felt his throat close with dread. He understood what the placement of the chairs was about. Levi’s compulsion to kill and torture in front of a witness—a witness destined to be his next victim—hadn’t been satiated in some time. What he wanted was for Eric to watch.

  “For better suction.” Levi took the gag from Mia’s mouth. She sobbed, her narrow shoulders shaking.

  “Don’t,” Eric pleaded. He gave an involuntary shake of his head. Things were moving too fast. He needed more time for the SWAT team to assemble, to strategize the best way inside.

  “Why so glum, Agent? You’ve got the finest seat in the house.”

  Eric’s eyes held Mia’s for a bare, emotional second before the plastic bag went over her head.

  The SWAT team was assembling two doors down, out of visibility from the bungalow. Vacationers staying at the nearby properties were being warned to keep indoors. Men in body armor, equipped with assault guns and stun grenades, stood waiting for the command to strike. Overhead, iron-gray clouds had eclipsed the moon, further darkening the sky and promising to bring the rain the meteorologists had been talking about.

  Cameron felt a rush of anxiety, though he kept it hidden from the others on standby in the sparsely grassed yard. He had been heading back to St. Augustine when he’d made a sharp U-turn on the road.

  Eric had cut off their phone conversation to walk willingly into a death trap.

  From here, watching through binoculars as he stood among the SWAT team and other federal agents, things appeared deceptively quiet. Thin, yellow light leaked from behind the bungalow’s closed curtains. Cameron wondered what the hell was going on inside.

  Either way, they had Levi—he would be theirs, dead or alive. But what about the others who were in there? Cameron felt the heavy weight of responsibility. He had called Eric in on this; he was the one who had brought him down here.

  I’m counting on you, Cam. Don’t let them rush the place—it could get her killed.

  Anytime law enforcement was forced to enter a hostage situation, the chance of casualties grew. But for all he knew at this moment, it was too late already. Eric, Mia, the two deputies—all of them could be dead.

  “We can snake in a thermographic camera,” the SWAT team captain said as he approached. He was buzz-haired and heavily muscled. A tattoo on one forearm indicated him as former military. “Body heat readings will tell us where they are.”

  “How long to set it up?”

  “Hard to say. We’ll have to find an entry point, like a vent. But we’re going to need it to determine specific locations before we go inside. It’s the best chance you’ve got. Otherwise, we can throw in the grenades, storm the place and
hope we get to your suspect before he takes anyone out.”

  “Get the cameras in there,” Cameron said, stomping sand off his shoes. He described the house’s ventilation system. “What about the sniper?”

  “He’s on his way—he got caught in a traffic snarl on I-95.” The captain held a command radio in his right hand. “Until he gets here I’ve got a man outside the fence in back with binoculars and a limited view into the kitchen. But he says no one’s visible from that vantage point.”

  The wind had picked up and the first rain began to fall—hard, fat drops plunking onto the earth around them. Cameron heard one of the field agents curse. The downpour was expected to worsen throughout the night.

  Damn it, Eric. He blew out a tense breath, perspiring in the muggy night air. If Levi didn’t kill him, he just might do it himself when this was all over.

  He only hoped he got the chance.

  Levi was a cat toying with his prey. For the fourth time, Mia’s body twisted against its restraints as he tightened the seal over her mouth and nose, pulling the thin, transparent plastic taut with one hand.

  Thirty seconds. Forty seconds. Too long without oxygen. Cuffed to the chair, Levi’s gun on him, Eric watched in agonized helplessness before the bag was once again loosened enough to keep her from slipping into unconsciousness. She wheezed, sobbing, the flaccid plastic making smacking sounds against her lips as she feebly drew in air.

  Face hot and eyes red, he felt as though he were being slowly pulled apart.

  “You son of a bitch,” he whispered, voice ragged.

  Levi’s expression back to him was one of unadulterated glee. He waited for her lungs to fill a few more times and then he tugged the plastic tight again. Forearms tied down, Mia’s back arched off the chair, her throat making a desperate choking sound as she fought in vain to breathe.

  “That’s a good girl,” Levi muttered, enthralled. His titillation was repulsive.

  Chest heaving, Eric yanked hard at the chair’s arm, the cuff clanking against the wood. “Don’t do this! Deal with me!”

  Levi grinned, watching him. He needed his witness, Eric realized all over again. He needed to see the anguish and fear of his observer as much as he needed it from his victim. He craved someone to behold his power. And this time he had a male—a federal agent, his own nemesis—as his spectator. The feeling of supremacy had to go far beyond anything he’d enjoyed with the drugged women.

  He felt his panic rising. Levi had cut off her air for a good forty-five seconds this time. She was getting weaker, the fight beginning to go out of her by degrees. Her bloodied fingers that had been clenched now uncurled. Eric’s heart beat out a rapid staccato. He couldn’t take this anymore. Muscles straining, he pulled so hard at the chair arm the metal cuff cut into his wrist, opening his skin. He felt the arm’s dovetailed joints loosen. Another series of forceful, painful yanks and they pulled apart. Sliding the cuff from the wood, Eric rose.

  The dry cleaning bag went instantly limp. Levi gripped the gun. “Remain seated!”

  “No.” It was a risk he had to take or watch her die a slow and excruciating death. Eric was betting his own life on Levi’s need for an audience. He remained standing. Mia breathed in tight little rasps, her head wobbling under the plastic.

  “I said, be seated or I’ll shoot you now!”

  “Then shoot me,” Eric challenged between clenched teeth. “Because I’m not going to watch another fucking second of this.”

  Turning his back on Levi’s outrage, he waited to feel the hot force of a bullet, see his world fade to nothingness as the metal slug passed through his skull. But instead all that came at him were more hurled threats. Pulse thrumming, Eric moved slowly toward the kitchen. If Levi killed him, there would be no one to watch.

  “Say goodbye to her, then!”

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. His throat ached as he heard the bag snap tight over Mia’s face again. Her chair rocked on its legs as the asphyxiation continued. Eric walked away on knees that threatened to buckle.

  Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  But it was the only way to lure Levi away from her.

  He stepped over the dead men’s bodies, his shoes leaving bloodstains on the kitchen floor. The phone line here had been cut. Aware of the tremor in his hands, he took a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the faucet. The handcuffs dangled from his bleeding wrist. Staring blindly at the backsplash, Eric took a small sip and waited. Come after me, asshole, and leave her the hell alone. But he heard nothing from the other room, only the sound of rainfall beating on the curtained window over the sink. The silence was as unbearable as her torture. Wiping at the blood trickling down his temple, Eric closed his eyes and prayed. If he’d failed her, if he was wrong and she was dying right now, he wanted his own release next. Levi could put a bullet through him for all he cared.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  He palmed a small paring knife from the counter as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. They stopped in the doorway. “You’re going to get back in here now!”

  Eric turned. Levi’s face was a mask of fury. He remained several feet away in the shadow of the refrigerator, pointing the gun.

  “You want to kill me, then do it.”

  “I get that you’re not afraid to die. How brave. And I promise you, you will. But on my terms. You’re going to watch her succumb to me first.” He tilted his head in bemusement, his lips lifting in a cold smirk before he spoke again. “This must all seem like some kind of curse to you. First your wife and now her—both of them taken by me. You’re the one who’s powerless, Agent Macfarlane.”

  He indicated the sliding glass doors. “You obviously care for her or you would’ve escaped. You can’t bear to leave her, can you? Now get back to your seat or I’ll make her death especially painful. Would you prefer that I cut her up like Rebecca? We’ll start with some superficial slashes before moving on to the mortal ones.”

  Eric felt the threat in his veins. Still, he remained controlled.

  “It must suck to be you, Levi,” he said quietly, baiting him. “Your mother emasculated you to the point that you’re a weak, sexless excuse for a human. And yet you spent years caring for her, still hoping for her approval. You never got it, did you? She was embarrassed by you. No wonder.”

  “Shut up,” he warned, eyes glittering with anger as he clenched the weapon harder. “You don’t know anything about me!”

  “I know everything about you I need to.” Eric slipped his fingers around the handle of the concealed knife, prepared to fight. “My profile wasn’t wrong. You’re a dead loser.”

  With a snarl, he advanced from the shadows, his gun aimed at Eric’s face. A sharp pop filled the air and the side of Levi’s head exploded. Brain matter splattered the cabinets as he dropped to the floor in a red mist.

  The sniper.

  A small hole was visible in the glass door. Stunned, Eric remained frozen for a half second. Then he began to move.

  “Mia!”

  She remained tied to the chair, barely conscious, the plastic bag still over her face. Yanking it off and whispering her name, Eric knelt in front of her, hands shaking as he used the knife to saw through her binds. Her breathing was labored and uneven. He freed her just as the SWAT team burst through the door, shouting commands to get down. Holding his shield in the air, Eric wrapped his other arm around her protectively.

  His eyes briefly met Cameron’s as he carried her out to the waiting ambulance.

  41

  Subdued voices coming from the hallway woke her. Mia lay in a faintly lit hospital room, her body sore and the fingers of her left hand wrapped in heavy gauze. Eric sat in the chair beside her bed, dozing. His dress shirt was untucked and open at the throat, and there were splotches of dried blood on its collar and front. He had a heavy bandage on his temple. She gazed at him groggily, amazed.

  It was hard to believe either of them had gotten out alive.

  A wall clock indicated
it was nearly four in the morning. She’d lost hours, she realized, sedated by the E.R. physicians. Vaguely, she recalled Eric lifting her into his arms and pushing through the crowd of law enforcement to get her to the ambulance. Then he’d climbed inside with her, his face tense and pale. He had told her Allan Levi was dead. That he could never hurt her again. Just after, her world had faded to black.

  For a time Mia listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor. Even now, she could feel the terrifying burn of her lungs and the pounding of her blood as Levi pulled the plastic bag tight over her face. She turned her head to the side on the pillow and closed her eyes, her insides knotting.

  I’m still here, she reminded herself. I survived.

  Reaching out with her uninjured hand, her fingers caressed the sterile dressing wrapped around Eric’s wrist. Her touch caused him to stir. Seeing that she was awake, he sat up and leaned forward in the chair. His moss-green eyes stared into hers. She watched them slowly fill with tears.

  “Eric,” she whispered, her heart constricting.

  He bowed his head, bringing her fingers to his lips and kissing her knuckles, then rubbing his stubbled cheek against them.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I moved you to the bungalow.” The words were thick in his throat. “I thought you’d be safe there.”

  Mia’s voice in return was gentle. “He followed the deputies from the newspaper. You couldn’t have known.”

  Those same two men were dead now, one of them murdered right in front of her. She wondered if they had families, children. It made her sad that she had failed to ever ask them.

  “They ran some tests. The doctor doesn’t think you suffered any brain or organ damage from the oxygen deprivation.” He released a shaky breath. “But it’s likely you have some nerve damage in your fingers, honey.”

  The local anesthetic that had been shot into her injured fingertips had worn off. Even with the pain medication she was receiving through an IV line, she could feel their dull throb as her bandaged hand rested on the bedsheets. “How bad is it?”