Chapter 6: Reluctant Alliance

The warrant for Eliza Markowski's patient files came through at midnight. By three in the morning, Cora had transformed her living room into an incident room—files spread across every surface, connected by red string and color-coded tabs. The rain outside had finally stopped, leaving an unnatural silence in its wake that made her uneasy.

She stood before the makeshift evidence board, coffee cup forgotten in her hand. Twenty-seven patients in the nightmare support group. Six reported missing in the last year. Three bodies recovered. Three still missing—including Eliza Markowski herself.

The knock at her door came at 3:17 AM. She didn't need to check the peephole to know who it was.

"It's not visiting hours, Reid," she said, opening the door just enough to block entry.

He looked exhausted, dark circles prominent beneath his eyes. "You weren't answering your phone."

"Because I'm working."

"So am I." He held up a thick folder. "Hospital records from three neighboring counties. Similar nightmare complaints dating back five years. More disappearances than anyone realized."

Cora hesitated, then stepped aside. As he entered, his eyes swept over her evidence wall with approval.

"You've been busy," he noted.

"The nightmares follow a pattern," she said, moving to the board. "All involve water—specifically dark water that feels alive somehow. All feature birds watching from above. And all include a sensation of something reaching up from below, trying to drag the dreamer under."

Reid nodded, unsurprised. "And whispering. Words just beyond understanding."

"How do you know all this?" The question came out sharper than she intended.

Instead of answering, he opened his folder. "Nine more cases across three counties. All reported as missing persons, none connected to our investigation until now." He laid out photographs of men and women, faces that shared nothing except the haunted look in their eyes. "All had been seeking treatment for severe night terrors before they disappeared."

Cora took the photos, arranging them alongside her existing timeline. "When did the first disappearance occur?"

"Five years ago. Gregory Winters, 42. Psychologist in Millhaven, specialized in sleep disorders." Reid's voice remained steady, but something in his expression suggested personal investment. "He vanished after publishing a paper on collective nightmare experiences in coastal communities."

"The same type of paper Eliza was planning to write," Cora said slowly. "Our killer is silencing anyone who recognizes the pattern."

"Not just recognizes it. Anyone who might understand what it means." He moved closer, his voice dropping. "These aren't random nightmares, Dr. Evans. They're memories."

The statement hung between them, absurd yet somehow resonant. Cora felt that peculiar double sensation again—part of her rejecting his theory outright, another part recognizing a truth she'd always known.

"Memories of what?" she asked, careful to keep her tone skeptical.

"I don't know yet." His gaze was too intense, too knowing. "But you do. Somewhere beneath the surface, you remember."

Irritation flared. "I'm not one of your victims, Reid. My dreams are irrelevant to this investigation."

"Are they?" He stepped closer. "When did they start for you? The nightmares about dark water and watching birds?"

The question struck too close to home. "I don't see how—"

"Because mine started twenty years ago," he continued, cutting her off. "After an incident at Blackwood Lake. An incident that was officially classified as an accidental drowning, but wasn't an accident at all."

Cold washed through her veins. Blackwood Lake. The name alone sparked fragmented images: ice-covered water, cracking beneath her feet. Screaming. Hands pulling her down instead of up.

"You remember something," Reid said quietly, watching her face. "What is it?"

Cora turned away, disturbed by his ability to read her. "We need to focus on finding Eliza Markowski, not dissecting my dreams."

"They're connected." His voice carried an edge of frustration. "Everything is connected. The disappearances, the nightmares, what happened at the lake—"

"Enough!" She faced him again, anger providing a shield against the disorienting sense of déjà vu his words triggered. "I agreed to work with you on this case, not to become part of your investigation. Either we focus on finding these missing people, or you can leave."

For a moment, she thought he might argue. Instead, he nodded once, tension still evident in the set of his shoulders. "Let's start with the geographical pattern, then. All victims were taken from locations within twenty miles of water."

The shift back to professional territory steadied her. This, at least, was safe ground. "The recovery sites form a pattern too." She pointed to the map pinned to her wall. "Each body was found equidistant from this central point."

Mason studied the map. "Port Blackwood Lighthouse."

"Abandoned since 1986," Cora confirmed. "After the keeper died under mysterious circumstances."

Their eyes met in shared understanding. Without another word, they both reached for their coats.