When Erica awoke, there were voices in the other room, at least one of them sounded angry. She sat up in bed, looking around the room, wondering why she wasn't in her usual sleeping shorts and tank. She tried to remember last night, but it was a blur, like she'd had too much wine to drink. There was a wine glass by the bed, though it was mostly full. She slipped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, horrified by what she saw. Her eyes were red-rimmed, with dark shadows below. Her skin was blotchy. Had she been crying? She didn't remember that, but then, she didn't remember much of anything. Joann leaving, Eric staying; but then what? She needed – wanted – coffee, but she wasn't ready to face whoever was in the outer room. She turned on the shower instead.
A great deal of hot water later, she emerged from the bathroom, still with no clearer memories of the night, but at least looking and feeling a little better. She dressed quietly, noticing that the door was just slightly ajar, like someone had peeked in to check on her. The voices in the outer room seemed even more animated. Erica tiptoed to the door in bare feet, listening.
"How the hell did we not know this?" That was Eric's voice, and it was followed by the sound of papers being slapped down on a counter or table. Someone shushed him. "Do you have any idea what I did to her last night?" he exclaimed, not being shushed in the least.
"Eric, get over yourself," Joann scolded. "It shouldn't have been done, but it was. It's no one's fault. And more important, it's given us some valuable information."
"Sure, if we can ever get at it," he replied bitterly.
"Time," someone said softly. Erica thought it might be John. "These things move slow."
"We don't have time. She doesn't have time. What if she doesn't come back to us?"
You're the one that's been hounding her to remember," Joann pointed out.
If I'd known what she was going to remember..." For a long moment, all Erica heard was the soft rattling of dishes and coffee mugs. She ventured to peek out the door. Eric was sitting at the dining table with his head in his hands. John was in the kitchen, fixing his coffee. Only Joann seemed to be aware of her, and she was staring, and trying not to seem to stare at the same time.
"I was just..." Eric started, but Joann interrupted him.
"Erica, how are you feeling?"
Eric's head shot up and John spun around. All three of them were scrutinizing her. "What happened?" she asked softly.
"What do you remember?" Joann countered.
Erica shook her head stubbornly. "Tell me what happened," she insisted. John brought her a cup of coffee and they all watched expectantly as she waited for him to offer the handle in such a way that their fingers wouldn't touch. She took a sip of the coffee and stared at them, her exasperation obviously growing. She remained standing in the doorway, her only available exit strategy. "Tell me!" she repeated.
"I told you something about my youth and it seemed to trigger a memory for you," Eric said. "It might not have been a real memory," he added.
"What? Memory of what?"
"We can talk about that," Joann said, "But with someone here who knows how to help you. Someone who can help you work through the memories."
"No!" Erica exclaimed. "Then the nightmares will come back." She took a step back as if someone had come too close, though John had returned to the kitchen and Eric and Joann had not moved.
"We're not going to talk about any of that now, anyway, so come and sit down," John said. "I'm making you some breakfast. Guaranteed to make you feel better."
It did smell good and that warm, breakfasty temptation was drawing her out of the safe cocoon of the bedroom. She couldn't help but notice out of the corner of her eye that Eric turned a pile of papers over on the table next to him, but John was extolling the virtues of his pancake and egg breakfast, so she continued on to the kitchen bar. She sat on one of the stools and watched as John refilled her coffee cup. Joann went around the counter, into the kitchen, undoubtedly getting in John's way, but perhaps remembering what Erica had said about feeling more comfortable with the counter between them.
"Can you tell us what you do remember about your childhood?" Joann asked.
"You tell me what you've found out about Juan," Erica bargained. "It's Thursday. I'm supposed to be at the airport."
Joann glanced over Erica's shoulder at Eric, but he didn't say anything. "Someone did show up at your apartment yesterday, around five in the morning. He didn't stay. We think he had an infrared scope and easily discovered that no one was there."
"And?" Erica prompted.
"We identified him as an ex-marine. He's known to take contracts with a semi-legitimate mercenary-for-hire type business. They hire a lot of ex-military, mostly do security, bodyguards, move documents or valuables in and out of sketchy countries, that kind of thing. We think they've been involved in trying to rescue kidnap victims, things we'd really rather that civilians didn't get involved in but don't have a lot of control over when they're working in foreign countries. Anyway, it sounds like he made a couple more passes last night to see if you were there."
"Can't you arrest him?"
"He hasn't done anything illegal," John said, putting a plate stacked with delicious looking food on it down in front of her. "That we know of," he added with a shrug.
"And Juan?"
"That's more complicated," she admitted. "We found the ticket. It was purchased by an off-shore proxy in the Caribbean. It was for Dubai."
"Dubai?"
"We didn't find any visa applications in your name, so either he was planning on you ending up in a country that doesn't require visas, or he's planning on you assuming a false identity at some point. We haven't discovered that yet. There was a connecting flight out of Atlanta. He may have set it up for somebody to contact you there and/or fly the rest of the way with you."
"So I need to go to the airport, be on that flight, so you can find out."
"No," Eric snapped. "We need to lure him here, or have him send someone that we can actually trace back to him, presumably he would send someone closer to him that he would trust."
Joann shot him a warning look. "We're going to have an agent on the plane. Someone who looks like you. If they can pull it off, then we might find something out at the other end. If not, then we still have a chance to lure him in, or make him mad enough to get careless," she explained calmly.
Erica shook her head. "The best chance you have is if I'm on that flight. You follow or you have Interpol meet it and grab him when he shows himself. If he comes here, you'll never see him, and I'll be dead."
