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.”
When they’d talked, Eric had told Mia the little he knew about Anna Lynn Gomez’s disappearance so far. The FBI had released a statement that morning acknowledging that all four abductions, as well as Pauline Berger’s murder, were believed to be the work of a single culprit. JSO deputies and federal agents were currently canvassing the city, looking for the missing woman’s Nissan.
“Aren’t you terrified this psycho might come after you again?”
“According to the FBI, it’s uncommon for this type of serial offender to go after the same person twice,” Mia said, recounting what Eric had told her. She hoped it would put Penney’s mind at ease about living nearby.
“Still, you should be on your guard, Mia. I am. I’ve started carrying Mace.” Penney closed the hatchback. Holding the groceries on one hip, she used her free hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Look, I feel bad about not checking on you earlier. I’ve been working double shifts at the restaurant all week. And to be honest, I think all this has me a little freaked out. I live alone…”
“I understand.” The two women didn’t know one another all that well, anyway, mostly talking as they passed on the stairs to and from work, or attending the occasional party that Will and Justin threw. “I’m sure the restaurant keeps you busy.”
“I’ll bring you some treats—maybe some brownies?”
Vegetarian or not, Slice of Life was known for having some of the best pastries around. “Thanks.”
The building had curving exterior staircases. Mia watched as Penney went up the stairs on the left and disappeared on the third-floor landing. A moment later, Eric’s rental sedan pulled in behind the Prius. Mia came forward as he exited the car. He appeared tired, and she imagined he hadn’t had much rest since another missing woman was reported.
“Any updates?” she asked.
He opened the passenger-side door for her. The car’s air conditioner was running hard, battling the Florida humidity. “We located Ms. Gomez’s Nissan an hour ago. It was in the parking lot of a Bargain-Mart off the Arlington Expressway.”
The discovery eliminated any possibility that the young woman had just gotten a wild hair and gone off on her own free will. Mia felt a troubling disquiet.
Eric squinted at her in the strong sunlight. “Why would a woman stop at a place like that, alone, at nearly midnight?”
“Lots of reasons,” she answered honestly. “Tampons. Emergency wine.”
He seemed to appreciate her candidness. Touching her shoulder, he said, “We should go.”
Placing a framed photo out of the way, Dr. Wilhelm perched on the edge of his desk in his office at the Naval Air Station. His face appeared a little sunburned from his golf outing earlier that morning.
“Did you experience any aftereffects from yesterday’s session?” he asked Mia.
“I had a pretty vivid dream last night.” She pressed her hands into her lap, aware Eric’s eyes were on her, as well. “But it didn’t really make any sense.”
“Can you describe it?”
She released a breath. “I was a child, sitting on a street curb with a little red-haired girl. She and I were holding hands.”
“And where were you exactly?”
“Outside a foster care group home.” Mia felt exposed. She didn’t like discussing her past, but she wanted to be truthful for the sake of the therapy. “I was in the system as a child. I lived at the group home for several weeks before being moved to a foster family. The dream’s setting was real but I don’t remember the girl being there at all.”
“Did you and the other child talk in your dream?”
“She told me not to be scared. That things would get better.”
Dr. Wilhelm nodded thoughtfully. “What else happened?”
“A car drove past us. A blue hatchback of some kind. It slowed down and then it started to back up—I woke up then. The dream was very brief.”
“Did you see who was driving the car?”
Her chest tightened at the recollection. “It was a man but his face was in the shadows. I couldn’t see him but he gave me a bad feeling.”
She glanced at Eric and saw the concern on his features before looking back to the psychiatrist. “Couldn’t this just be a run-of-the-mill, weird dream? Does it have to mean something?”
Dr. Wilhelm shifted his weight on the desk. “I think at the least it means you have the potential to be very receptive to the therapy. As you slept, your mind opened up, Mia. What was your experience like at the group home?”
“I hated it,” she confessed. Head bowed, she stared at her bandaged fingers. “I was afraid and I missed my mother.”
“So your mind took you someplace you didn’t want to go. Which is exactly what we need to accomplish.”
Mia looked up. “But the little girl wasn’t real and I don’t remember the event with the car, either.”
“That’s all right,” Dr. Wilhelm said. He took a ballpoint pen from the pocket of his lab coat and absently clicked its top up and down as he spoke. “While the dream could be a repressed childhood memory, my opinion is that it’s actually emblematic. I think the man in the car is symbolic of your abductor. Your mind returned to a time when you were a child, when you felt most vulnerable, because it