Edge of Midnight. Leslie Tentler

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ that seemed to be at her surface these days. “Grayson…”

       “I’m bringing dinner. Pizza from Mario’s or Thai from that place around the corner. I expect an email by six letting me know which.”

       “Thai food,” she whispered, and disconnected the phone.

       Mia remained on the balcony of her apartment, hating the fact that she was shivering despite the sun’s warmth. Placing the phone on the glass-topped patio table, she pulled the sash of her short, kimono-style robe more tightly around herself and stared blindly over the canopy of trees at a lush park in Jacksonville’s historic San Marco neighborhood. Grayson was right, she conceded—she wasn’t ready to go back to work. But the truth she would never admit to anyone but herself was that she didn’t want to be alone. The bustle of the newsroom, a story assignment, even a simple one, could help take her mind off things.

       The only problem was, she was part of the story now. Or at least the one everyone was talking about. Mia felt another tremor pass through her.

      Try as she might, and she’d tried hard, she couldn’t remember anything. Detectives from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office, as well as an agent from the local FBI field office, had quizzed her, but not even a fragment of those lost hours had returned. Her last memory was of leaving the office late after filing a breaking story. She’d said good-night to Ronnie, one of the evening janitors, and walked out to her car in the balmy evening. Mia had clicked the key fob, deactivating her ancient Volvo’s security system, and tossed her purse into the front seat.

       Her next memory was of awakening in a crashed car that didn’t belong to her, on an unfamiliar stretch of darkened beachside road. Covered with blood, trembling and confused, her inner voice had screamed at her to run. Hide. Even now, the cold fear of the unknown pooled inside her.

       The beach police who’d found her, the emergency workers at the scene and then later, the doctors and nurses in the hospital E.R.—it had all been a blur of people poking at her, taking blood and checking her vitals, asking myriad questions she couldn’t answer. Her lungs squeezed at the recollection of the invasive, degrading rape examination and her acute relief when it appeared she hadn’t been assaulted in that way. Mia had asked one of the nurses to call Grayson, knowing he typically arrived at the paper well before daylight, and discovered that he had already reported her missing.

       Remnants of the dull headache that was like a hangover were still with her—the result of the illegal, black market drugs in her system, she’d been told.

       What had happened to her? Who had she escaped from and how?

       Speculation was that whoever had taken the two women Mia had written about had targeted her, as well. And those women were still unaccounted for. As a reporter, she’d always tried to maintain a level of objectivity. That was all gone now. She felt a kinship with those women, wondered if they were still being held somewhere. Or if they were dead.

       The warm breeze lifted her hair. Mia pressed one hand against her stomach, her gaze lingering on the ugly abrasion encircling her wrist. Through the robe’s silk material, she could feel the raised edges of the bizarre, scabbed carving on her skin. No bikinis for me anytime soon, she thought, trying to inject some humor into an otherwise terrifying situation. The tips of the second and third fingers on her left hand were bandaged and sore.

      You’re tough, Mia. You’ve been through bad things before and you’ll get through this.

       She went back inside her apartment, which was large and airy, with high ceilings and antique heart pine floors. From down the hall she could hear the police scanner she kept in her home office, its low chatter a strange but familiar sound. Walking to the granite-topped island that separated the kitchen from the living area, she eyed the copy of the Jacksonville Courier. Mia had taken it from her doorstep hours earlier but so far had been unable to read it. The headline below the banner was innocuously political—a standoff between the county and state over shoreline zoning rights.

       Gathering her courage, she unfolded the paper, scanning the front-page news first and then opening it to the second page, which she laid flat against the countertop. Grayson had already warned her that Walt Rudner, a senior reporter nearly twice Mia’s age, had taken over the story on the local abductions.

       A story that now included her, at least anonymously. As she read Walt’s follow-up article to the larger one that had appeared earlier in the week, she felt her stomach flip-flop all over again.

      A thirty-one-year-old woman believed to have been a third abductee managed to escape during the early hours of Tuesday morning. Due to her sustained injuries, the victim has so far been unable to provide any information that could be useful to the investigation, according to a spokesperson for the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office…

       The concluding paragraph stated that the FBI’s Violent Crimes Unit out of D.C. had been called in as a special consult.

       A rap at the door made her jump. She moved to the foyer and peered out through the peephole, her shoulders sagging in relief when she saw Will Dvorak, who lived on the first floor and also co-owned the building. It bothered her that a simple knock had kicked her pulse into overdrive. Despite all of this, Mia vowed she wouldn’t turn into a frightened shell of who she’d once been.

       “Get dressed. We’re going to be late,” Will announced as he entered the apartment, kissing Mia’s cheek. He was medium height, with russet hair and blue eyes. As usual, he was immaculately dressed in khakis and a pressed, short-sleeve shirt, and his designer sunglasses hung from a cord around his neck.

       “Dressed? Where are we going?”

       “Justin called from Élan. One of his hairstylists had a cancellation and you’re the lucky girl.” Justin Cho was Will’s partner and a successful entrepreneur who operated a number of ventures around the city, including one of Jacksonville’s top day spas. “I told him I’d bring you down.”

       Mia shook her head. “That’s sweet. But I’m really not up to it.”

       Will gave her an understanding smile but ignored her comment. “Afterward, we’ll have lunch at that place you like on the Riverwalk. The fresh air will do you good.”

       She must have appeared unconvinced, because he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around, guiding her toward the hall bathroom. Will was a good friend. In fact, in many ways he was the closest she had to family.

       “Will…”

       “This is for your own good.” He flipped on the light, bringing Mia face-to-face with herself in the beveled mirror above the marble vanity. She flinched at her own pale, haunted reflection.

       Her dark hair was a mess. And it wasn’t just the fact that it hadn’t been brushed with any recent regularity. The wide swath that had been chopped off during those missing hours gave her a lopsided appearance—as if she were a child who had attempted to give herself a haircut.

       “It’s just not a good look, honey,” Will said softly.

       Mia frowned, touching the faint bruise on her jaw with her bandaged fingers. Her cocoa-brown eyes were liquid and questioning. She tried again to remember something about what had happened to her, but it was like trying to see through a black mist. She looked at Will in the mirror as he stood behind her. His gaze held concern.

      She wouldn’t let this wreck her.

       Sucking in a tense breath, Mia left the СКАЧАТЬ