Edge of Midnight. Leslie Tentler

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       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 know 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.

       She’d lain down after Eric’s departure, expecting to doze for only a little while. But apparently she had been asleep for hours. Outside, the sky had grown black, bathing the room in shadows. Mia stood and bumped her shin on the coffee table in her haste to get to a lamp. She’d never liked the darkness. She released a pent-up breath as soft light filled the space. Based in reality or not, the dream had brought back old memories she had worked hard to suppress.

       Two days before her sixth birthday, the Florida Department of Family and Child Services removed Mia from her mother’s home, relinquishing her into foster care. Luri Hale had been a mess, unable to care for herself, much less a child. Abandoned by her husband, jobless, given to binge drinking and interchanging bouts of mania and depression, she had made Mia’s young life a maelstrom of uncertainty. During Luri’s up periods, their filthy apartment hosted an endless parade of strange men. And when the crash—the corresponding down period came—it was much worse. Mia was left alone with her mother’s drunken sobs and abusive outbursts.

       The removal by DFACS came after Mia, dirty, barefoot, had been caught shoplifting food from a neighborhood grocery store.

       Still, foster care had been a rough ride, with families СКАЧАТЬ