Edge of Midnight. Leslie Tentler

to do today is start by focusing on the moments leading up to your abduction again. I understand another woman was reported missing last night, so time is of the essence. As we’ve discussed, I’d like to give you a higher concentration of the catalyzing drug. That, combined with anything still in your system from yesterday, should help us tap into your memories.”

       Mia gave a small nod of consent. This time Dr. Wilhelm already had the syringe prepared and he walked to where she sat on the couch. She tried to distract herself from what he was doing by watching Eric as he paced the room.

       “Lie down, Mia,” Dr. Wilhelm instructed once he’d given her the injection. “This is a stronger dosage—you might feel some dizziness this time. I’ll let you relax for a bit and then I’ll rejoin you. Agent Macfarlane?”

       “Please stay,” she said softly to Eric. The psychiatrist nodded, closed the blinds and left the room.

       Overhead, Mia heard the intermittent roar of military planes as they took off from the Naval Air Station’s tarmac. Focusing on their sound, she reclined and closed her eyes, but opened them again when she sensed Eric sitting in the armchair next to the couch. He leaned forward so that he was closer to her, his elbows resting on his knees. A frown creased his forehead.

       “I appreciate what you’re doing,” he murmured. “I want you to know that.”

       Mia placed her hand on his forearm. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and she felt the hard sinews under his warm skin, the faint sprinkling of male hair. “I’m going to try to do better this time.”

       His expression appeared tense. “Whatever happens, it’s all right.”

       Her fingers grazed his wrist, and then she closed her eyes.

       As she lay in silence, Mia felt a warm fuzziness spread through her, the sensation much stronger than the day before. She wasn’t asleep, but her body felt relaxed and buoyant, as if she were floating on the ocean or in a backyard pool. She wasn’t aware of Dr. Wilhelm reentering the room, but she heard him speak.

       “Let’s go back to the night in your newspaper’s parking garage,” he suggested in a calm tone. “It’s late and you just filed your story. You’re headed home. Tell me what you see, Mia.”

       “My car,” she whispered, concentrating on the steel-and-concrete deck surrounding her. It was as if she really were there, but at the same time she remained tethered to Dr. Wilhelm’s voice. “I’m parked in the last spot on the first row.”

       “Are you alone?”

       “Yes.”

       “What are you doing?”

       “I’m…walking. I have my keys.” Just like the last time, she felt the hard shape of the key fob in her hand. Mia pressed the device and it gave a bright chirp in response. Opening the Volvo’s door, she tossed her purse inside and slid onto the cool leather seat.

       “Are you inside the car now?”

       She nodded. “I’m…looking in my purse for my cell phone. I’m going to order takeout on my way home and—”

       Her heart lurched, scalded by surprise and fear. An arm curled tightly around her throat, yanking her backward against the headrest and cutting off her windpipe. She tried to get free, tried to scream but nothing more than a few breathy gasps escaped her. She couldn’t breathe. Her fingers clawed at the hard, corded vise choking her and she felt a sharp stab of pain in the side of her neck. Within seconds it became harder to fight. Her hands felt heavy and uncoordinated, then dropped limply to her sides on the car seat. She wanted to blow the Volvo’s horn or set off the panic button on the key fob dangling from the ignition switch, but she couldn’t gain control of her fingers. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

       The shadowed form behind her smelled faintly of aftershave. Only his eyes were visible in the rearview mirror. She felt a kiss against her right temple.

       “Hello, Mia. You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

      9

      “Mia?” Dr. Wilhelm repeated. “Can you hear me? Tell me what’s going on.”

       Eric dragged a hand through his hair, watching as her eyelids fluttered and her head rolled weakly from side to side. She’d stopped talking, instead gasping for air. “You need to pull her back—”

       The psychiatrist raised his hand in a silencing gesture. “Listen to me, Mia. Whatever’s happening right now, I want you to distance yourself from it. Go back to the empty theater we’ve created and focus on the white, blank screen. Can you do that?”

       He made the request twice before she seemed to obey, her breathing eventually slowing and her body releasing its tension. “You’re safe here, all right? We’re going to rest in the theater for a little while. Let the blank screen fill your mind. Don’t think of anything else.”

       He got up and went over to his desk. Eric followed him over.

       “Is she okay?” he asked in a low voice. His eyes fell on the blood pressure kit Dr. Wilhelm extracted from his credenza.

       “I’m going to monitor her BP as a precaution. But the therapy is working, Agent Macfarlane. You were aware the memories were going to cause some discomfort.”

       Eric knew he needed to relax and let the doctor do his job. He just hadn’t expected his protective instincts to kick in quite so hard. Eric looked again at Mia. She lay on the couch—no longer moving, her eyes closed. Her lips were slightly parted and her sleek, dark hair spilled across the striped cushion underneath her head.

       “You’re going to feel a slight pressure on your upper arm,” Dr. Wilhelm advised in a soothing tone as he returned to the chair beside the couch. Gently, he slipped the cuff onto Mia’s slender biceps. “It’s nothing to worry about.”