Unidentified (14 page)

“What is it that you need?” Mitchell asked.

Evans noted that she stood with her arms crossed, feet squared up to Diego. She may have been dressed casually, but she was managing to step back into her familiar role as an authority figure. He wondered if this was comforting to her after last night. A good means to return things to normal. She kept her eyes locked on Diego.

“They visited me again last night,” Diego said. “They’re getting bold. They came right up to me this time.”

Evans soaked in the man’s body language. He sat with this hands resting on his thighs, shoulders slightly drooped forward, his eyes looking from Mitchell to Evans. They were tired but expectant eyes. Is he telling the truth?

“Where did this happen?” Mitchell continued in her even tone.

“Outside St. Jerome,” Diego answered.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. They just stared at me. I think they wanted to scare me,” Diego said. Then smiling sheepishly, he added, “Well. They did scare me. They’re taunting me.”

“How so?” Mitchell asked.

“I believe,” Diego began. “No, I feel it in my bones, in my lungs, in my heart. Just like when they appeared to me before Tommy was taken, I think they’re telling me they’re going to take Stephanie.”

“But they didn’t communicate with you?” Mitchell asked.

Evans noted a subtle change in her voice. Was that surprise?

Diego shook his head. “No. They didn’t. They just stood there like before. But I had this horrible feeling … still have this horrible feeling. It was like they were there to intimidate me. There was one at first. Then two more joined the first. They did nothing. Yet, I can’t help but feel the … how do you say … menace. It was like a wave of hatred that kept hitting me. And fear.”

He brought his hands together and nervously cracked his knuckles. “I tried to see her,” he said. “Stephanie. But the hospital will not let me. And like I said, her father doesn’t want to draw any more negative attention to his daughter.”

“What do you hope we can do?” Evans asked.

Diego tapped his fingers on his legs looking around the room. Was he working out what to say next or just how to say it? Evans watched him as he took a deep breath, held it for a second, then let it out slowly.

“I spoke with Chief Wilson,” Diego said, at last. “He said you performed a hypnosis on Agent Mitchell last night.”

Evans shot a glance over at Mitchell. She remained still, eyes on Diego, but he could see tension in her jaw and neck.

“I think we should do the same for Stephanie,” Diego said.

Mitchell’s eyes went wide, as did Evans’s as he turned and looked at the man sitting before them. Could he be serious?

“And I want to help,” Diego concluded softly.

Now this was out of left field. Evans knew that for most religious people, hypnosis appeared outside of their paradigm, that it was easier to simply denounce it wholesale. It was easier to comfortably stash it over in the imagined categorical box where they had tossed voodoo and witchcraft and other such things and never think of it again. But here was this man, a small town pastor, suggesting that he help them with the hypnosis of a young woman. Evans didn’t know for sure what to do with this new information. What box of his own was he supposed to put Pastor Diego into? Possibly the Brazilian-born man who somehow became the pastor of a small church in a small town in New Hampshire bucked the stereotypes for Latino and South American conservative religious types as well as the stereotypes for rural and small town Americana religious folk. Was he in fact part of some liberal denomination? Or was he none of these things and now playing some unexpected angle on them for his own purposes?

“Help?” Evans finally managed. “How?”

“We need to speak to Stephanie’s mother,” Diego explained. “If I advocate for hypnosis, I think she will allow it. Dorothy is the key to getting Tim to let the hypnosis happen. I believe I can talk Dorothy into supporting this.”

Evans looked over at Mitchell who looked at him now for the first time since this conversation began. Her arms dropped to her side. She tried to hide it, but he could see how bewildered and conflicted she was. He felt it himself.

“We’re running out of time,” Diego pressed. “Please! I just want to help Stephanie before it’s too late.”

Mitchell turned her gaze to Diego. She looked at him for a moment before speaking. Finally, she said, “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tim Clark closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Look,” he said with a tone that did little to mask his annoyance. “I appreciate your concern, but we need to do what is best for our daughter. She’s sick and needs medical help.”

Mitchell sat forward in her seat in the Clark’s living room, “Mr. Clark, with all due respect, how can you possibly believe that what has happened to Stephanie is strictly a matter of mental health?”

Next to her sat Evans. Next to him, in a folding chair Dorothy had brought from the kitchen, sat Diego. Tim and Dorothy were on the sofa. A small gap between them was where Stephanie might have been had she not been locked in a room inside a mental ward. Mitchell wondered if this was the ultimate reality of their marriage: a small yet definite gap between them at all times that was occupied by their one and only daughter.

“What evidence do you have there’s even been a crime?” Tim pressed her. “That there’s anything going on here other than that my poor daughter is sick?”

“Mr. Clark, I’m with you,” Evans jumped in. “I’m a psychiatrist. I have treated many patients with a wide variety of difficult challenges. I sincerely believe most likely Stephanie is suffering from severe psychotic episodes or PTSD of some form. But people don’t just develop those conditions. There has to be either a medical explanation or an emotional explanation.”

“Emotional?” Dorothy asked, her voice soft, but the concern evident in her large eyes.

“Trauma,” Evans explained. “Abuse of some sort she may be unable to remember as it is too painful to recall. So she may be repressing those memories. All I’m saying is that I want to help uncover whatever the source of all this is. As long as the source of Stephanie’s problems remains a mystery, I doubt her condition will improve. I just want to help Stephanie.”

To Mitchell’s surprise, it wasn’t Tim that asked the next question. Instead, Dorothy looked to Diego now and said softly, “And why do you want this?”

“Same reason,” Diego answered. “Call it a hunch, gut feeling, the Holy Ghost. I believe these people were sent here to help Stephanie.”

Mitchell noted that Diego did not divulge to them any details of his encounter the night before with the alien beings. Did he suspect they would throw him out? Call him crazy? Dismiss his idea of having Evans perform hypnosis on Stephanie? Was he lying to them? Or maybe lying to Mitchell and Evans? Or was it a calculated move on his part to simply achieve the result he wanted? Mitchell couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation with this man. He seemed sincere enough, but something about the subtle choices he was making troubled her. He has an angle, an agenda, she said to herself. But what choice do I have left? Of course, she had the obvious choice of simply calling all of this off, taking Evans outside and explaining to him that she was off the case, thus, they were off the case. But in spite of her better judgment, here she sat.

Dorothy looked up at her husband. He sighed, glancing at her and then the floor. For such a tall man, he seemed small in that moment.

“I can remain in the room with Stephanie to watch over her,” Diego said suddenly.

Mitchell looked over at him. She could see Evans was staring at him as well. This had not been part of their discussion earlier. What was the game this man was playing? Mitchell’s mind raced, wondering if she’d just walked into some kind of scheme that Diego had laid out for them. If he had an angle after all, he was playing his cards now. She opened her mouth to say something, anything. But Dorothy beat her to it.

“I’d like that,” she said, her voice soft, but the certainty of her tone unmistakable. Diego had won Dorothy over.

“Dorothy,” Tim protested, “leave this to the doctors.”

“What’s the harm, Tim?” she said, looking up at her tall husband with resolute eyes. “If there’s a chance we can get to the bottom of this, better now than later. Besides, Dr. Evans here is a doctor.”

She reached out, across that gap between them, and placed her hand on his hand, which rested on his bony knee.

“I want my daughter back,” she said.

Tim looked at his wife for a long moment. He nodded slowly. Turning his heavy eyes to Evans, he said, “Just this once. That’s it!”

***

The car climbed the slow curving road, its headlights cutting through the dwindling light of dusk. Mitchell sat behind the wheel. Evans looked out his window. Diego followed them in his truck. Mitchell glanced in her rearview mirror. The headlights coming from his truck felt bright to her eyes, even though it was not yet fully night. A dull ache behind her eyes and spreading through her skull persisted. At some point, she realized that it had been there for some time, possibly since she had been found last night. But with so much else going on, it had not registered. Now having slept and cleaned up, the ache rose to the surface. But more pressing than the headache was a question that nagged her mind.

“What’s his angle?” she said.

Evans looked over at her. “Diego?”

“He didn’t say he planned on being present during the hypnosis. Was this his goal all along? What does he want with all of this?”

“I don’t know,” Evans admitted. “I can’t quite figure him out.”

Mitchell glanced in the mirror again and said, “Do you think he can be trusted?”

Evans stared out the windshield, considering her question. At length, he said, “I honestly have no idea. But if he interferes with the hypnosis …” He trailed off.

Mitchell glanced at Evans. He seemed rested, but it was clear that the last few days had taken a serious toll on him. She imagined that once he was back in Boston he would need more time to recover. Would he bother to clear his schedule again, or would he simply wish to return to his routine?

The thought of returning to her routine sucked any remaining joy from Mitchell. What routine? She would most likely be out on her ass, unless there was some serious breakthrough that would lead to the apprehension of those responsible for Stephanie’s kidnappings—for her kidnapping—it was not likely that she would have a job when she got back to Boston. A nagging little voice in the back of her head pointed out to her, this isn’t the movies. What are the chances you can wrap up the case neatly and be forgiven your insubordination? That’s what she was doing, wasn't it? She was being insubordinate. She was directly defying the orders given to her by Assistant Director Reynolds.

Her entire body felt heavy. Her stomach turned slightly. She glanced over at Evans, who was lost in his own thoughts. He had no idea what she was doing. She felt a compulsion to blurt it out, to be honest with him. What would he do? Certainly, he would call off the hypnosis and demand they return to Boston immediately. But if he didn’t know, he could be insulated from blame. It was entirely her doing.

She blinked, and in the split second of darkness, her mind saw those black eyes staring at her, those horrible hands reaching for her. Rage bubbled up in her heart. She felt so powerless. She might as well have been right back on that damn examination table, unable to move. But she shoved these thoughts aside with the determination that she now could and would fight back. There was nothing left to it now. After last night, it didn’t seem possible to return to a routine, to any semblance of normality. She just wanted to gouge out those large black eyes with her bare hands.

“I’ll need you to keep an eye on him,” Evans said, pulling her out of her mental sinkhole.

“What?” she glanced at him. “Oh, Diego. Yeah. Sure thing.”

“Are you okay?” Evans asked.

“Yeah,” she said flatly.

“Nicole,” he said more softly. “I’m worried about you. After what happened last night, I think you’re going to need some time to process all of this.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You … vanished last night. I can’t even begin to make sense of that. I think we’re in over our heads here. Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“You’re not starting to believe in aliens, are you doctor?” she said, allowing a little more harshness into her voice than she had intended. Maybe it was the nagging doubts in her own mind that caused her to be so repulsed by the idea. But it’s ludicrous, she thought. There’s a reasonable explanation. Giving into hysteria is not the answer.

“I’m not saying I believe in aliens,” Evans replied, keeping his voice even. “I’m just saying that … Nicole, you vanished last night and traveled a serious distance in a very short time. You screamed Latin at me. Something happened to you. I can’t explain these things.”

“I can’t either,” she said. “Yet. But that’s no reason to abandon logic.”

“I’m not suggesting we abandon logic,” Evans retorted, not hiding his increasing agitation. “I’m just saying that we might be dealing with something we are not in a position to understand at the moment.”

A small part of her mind registered his comment and even agreed with it. But where did that sentiment lead? Again, she felt her doubt rise. What if I have been blind to the facts of the case? What if Stephanie was really abducted by alien beings? What if I was abducted by aliens? What if it’s all real? What do I expect to find by putting Stephanie under hypnosis?

She shoved all of these nagging questions aside. Something had definitely happened to her, and in time she would have to deal with it, but not tonight. The choice had been made, a course of action set in motion. Maybe she just desperately wanted to prove she was right, that there was, in fact, someone behind this alien absurdity. But one thing was certain: she could not walk away now.

“We just need to keep Stephanie from being taken tonight,” she said, increasing her foot’s pressure on the gas pedal.

***

Stephanie sat on her bed. She wore a hospital gown as before. Her hair was tangled, her skin pale and oily. Dark circles were under her eyes. Even in the short time since Evans had first met her, she seemed to have lost weight. Judging from the untouched tray of food that sat on the small table by the bed, she was not eating. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the trauma.

Evans pulled up a chair and set his messenger bag next to it. Mitchell finished setting up the camcorder they had borrowed from the North Woodstock Police. Diego was in the hallway with Tim and Dorothy Clark.

“Stephanie,” Evans began, “Do you remember me?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to try to help you,’ he said. “We have talked to your parents and …”

“And you’re going to hypnotize me,” she cut in. “They told me.”

She seemed almost stoic given everything she’d been through the last few days.

“That’s right,” Evans nodded. “Now, I know it can be frightening to remember some of these things. But it’s important for us to confront this so we work through it. We are going to be here with you the whole time. You’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Okay?”

She nodded, looking off.

“We’re ready,” Evans said to Mitchell.

She moved to the door and stepped into the hallway. Evans took this opportunity to stand himself and step outside the room. He watched as Mitchell informed the Clarks and Diego that they were ready. They all nodded. Diego excused himself from their conversation and moved towards Evans. The Clarks watched him go.

“I’ll come get you when we’re done,” Mitchell said to the Clarks.

Dorothy shot a quick pleading glance to Evans. He nodded to her, hoping it communicated his sincere desire to help Stephanie. The Clarks turned and walked down the hallway towards the waiting area.

As Mitchell and Diego approached the door, Mitchell reached out and firmly grabbed Diego by the arm, stopping him.

“Didn’t tell us you’d be in here,” she said firmly in a soft voice so it wouldn’t carry down the hall.

Diego smiled. “Would you have allowed it otherwise?”

“I swear if you interfere at all …”

“I’m only here to help,” Diego interrupted Mitchell’s threat. “And at the moment, I’m the only reason this is happening. Please, Agent Mitchell. If nothing else, have a little faith in me.”

She let go of his arm and Diego walked into the room. Mitchell followed him. Evans, still standing by the door, shot Mitchell a quick look as she passed him. Here goes nothing, he thought.

Walking in, he pulled the door closed behind him. It clicked loudly as it closed.

Diego walked to the far wall of the room. He stood in the corner, left hand over right, in a comfortable stance and said nothing. Mitchell stood next to the camcorder on the flimsy tripod. Evans moved to the chair that sat across from Stephanie. She watched the three of them, but said nothing.

“Stephanie, I’m going to ask you to lay down,” Evans said.

She complied, laying on her back.

Evans walked her through his initial instructions for the hypnosis. She said nothing, but nodded at times to indicate she understood what he was saying. At last, Evans began the process, asking her to close her eyes, relax, and breathe deeply. He began the countdown.

At three, Stephanie took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. At zero, she took a sharp breath and her eyes shot open. But she remained on the bed. Her eyes stared vacantly up at the ceiling.

“Where are you, Stephanie?” Evans asked.