Chapter 5: The Second Disappearance

Three days later, Cora sat in her office surrounded by case files. Caroline Webb's disappearance had followed the same pattern as the others, with one critical difference: the feather had been left before the abduction, not after. The change in MO suggested the killer was evolving, becoming more confident—or more desperate.

She'd spent hours going through Mason Reid's notes, grudgingly impressed by his thoroughness. His theory about the nightmares created a connection she hadn't seen before. All four victims had been struggling with sleep disturbances prior to their disappearances. All four had sought professional help.

The question was: how did the killer know?

Her phone rang—Lambert again.

"Tell me you have good news," she answered.

"We found Caroline Webb's car abandoned at Miller's Point overlook. No signs of struggle, no blood, nothing to indicate where she might have gone."

"The same location as victim two," Cora noted, pulling out the relevant file. "Jennifer Larson's vehicle was found there as well."

"There's more," Lambert said, his voice tight. "We've got another missing person report. Eliza Markowski, 36, didn't show up for work this morning. Husband says she went for a run at 5 AM and never came back."

Cora's blood ran cold. "Any connection to the other victims?"

"That's the thing—she's a therapist at Blackwood Mental Health Center. Preliminary check shows she treated Jennifer Larson for sleep disturbances three months ago."

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. "He's not targeting patients," Cora said, the realization washing over her. "He's targeting the people they confided in."

Lambert was silent for a moment. "Jesus. You think this is about the nightmares? That our killer is somehow connected to whatever these women were dreaming about?"

"I don't know yet. But I need to see Eliza Markowski's house and office immediately." She was already reaching for her coat. "And Lambert? Call Reid. Tell him to meet me there."

The admission that she needed his insight didn't come easily, but Cora knew when to set aside pride for progress. Something about this case had resonated with Reid on a level she couldn't ignore—the same way it resonated with her.

An hour later, she stood in Eliza Markowski's meticulously organized home office, examining the therapist's appointment book. Reid arrived as she was photographing the pages, his hair damp from the never-ending rain.

"You called," he said, surprise evident in his voice.

"You had insights worth pursuing," she replied, not looking up. "The most recent victim is a therapist who treated one of our previous victims. I think our killer is targeting people who hear about these nightmares—people who might recognize a pattern."

Reid moved closer, examining the appointment book over her shoulder. His proximity sent an inexplicable wave of awareness through her that Cora ruthlessly suppressed.

"Look at these appointments," he said, pointing to a series of names highlighted in yellow. "All scheduled within the same two-hour window every week. All coded with the letter 'N'."

"Nightmare support group," Cora murmured. "She was treating multiple patients with similar symptoms."

Reid turned to Eliza's husband, who stood watching them from the doorway. "Did your wife ever talk about her patients having similar dreams? Recurring nightmares with specific patterns?"

The man hesitated. "She couldn't discuss details—confidentiality. But she was worried. Said she'd never seen so many patients with the same kind of night terrors. She was planning to publish a paper about it."

"Did she describe what these night terrors involved?" Cora asked.

"Something about darkness. Water. Being trapped." He shook his head. "And birds. She mentioned birds watching them."

Cora and Reid exchanged a look. The feathers suddenly took on new meaning.

"We need to see her patient files," Reid said. "Get a list of everyone in that nightmare support group."

"Those are confidential medical records," the husband protested. "You'd need a warrant."

"We'll get one," Cora assured him. "In the meantime, can you tell us if Eliza herself was experiencing any sleep disturbances? Nightmares of her own?"

The man's face crumpled. "She started having them a few weeks ago. Said it was just stress from work, but... she was afraid to sleep. Said it felt like the dreams were contagious, like her patients were infecting her with their fears."

A chill ran through Cora that had nothing to do with the rain-dampened air. She thought of her own dreams—the dark water, the watching eyes, the sense of something hunting her through the nightscape of her mind. Dreams she'd been having for years but had intensified in recent months.

"Dr. Evans." Reid's voice pulled her back to the present, concern evident in his expression. He'd noticed her reaction. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said sharply, refocusing on the task. "We need that warrant now. And we need protection for everyone in that support group."

Outside, as they walked to their separate vehicles, Reid caught her arm. His touch sent a shock of recognition through her that Cora couldn't explain.

"You know something you're not saying," he said quietly.

She pulled away from his grip. "We all have theories."

"This isn't just a theory for you." His eyes searched hers with uncomfortable intensity. "You recognize these nightmares, don't you? You've had them yourself."

The accuracy of his assessment left her momentarily speechless. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I have them too," he said simply. "Water. Darkness. Birds watching. The sensation of drowning while something whispers words you can't quite understand."

Cora felt the ground shift beneath her feet. The dreams she'd never told anyone about—the ones that had plagued her since childhood—described perfectly by a stranger.

"Who are you really?" she demanded. "And what do you know about these cases that you're not telling me?"

For a moment, she thought he might finally tell her the truth. Instead, he looked away, jaw tight with some internal struggle.

"I'm someone who wants to stop these abductions as much as you do," he said finally. "And right now, we need to focus on finding Eliza Markowski before she becomes the next body left with a feather, a stone, and a blank photograph."

He was right, of course, but his evasion only deepened Cora's suspicion. As she watched him walk to his Jeep, she felt the peculiar double sensation that had haunted her since their first meeting: the certainty that she should know him, coupled with the absolute conviction that they had never met.

One thing was clear—Mason Reid knew more about these cases, about the nightmares, and about her than he was willing to admit. And Cora was determined to discover what he was hiding, even if it meant confronting the fragments of memory she'd spent years trying to forget.

The rain continued to fall as she got into her car, washing away footprints and evidence alike. In Port Blackwood, some things stayed buried. But not forever. Never forever.