Edge of Midnight. Leslie Tentler

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      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.”

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