Blindsighted Read online

  Sara asked, “How else can you ingest it?”

  “If you’ve got the patience,” Mark answered, “you can soak the leaves in alcohol for a couple of days, then evaporate it. It’s still a crapshoot, though, because the consistency isn’t guaranteed, even with people who grow it for medical purposes.”

  “What medical purposes?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Well, you know when you go to the eye doctor and he dilates your eyes? It’s a belladonna compound. Very diluted, but it’s belladonna. You couldn’t take a couple of bottles of the eyedrops and kill somebody, for instance. At this low level of concentration, the worst you could do is give them a really bad headache and killer constipation. It’s at the pure level that you have to be careful.”

  Frank bumped her arm, handing her the photograph. Sara looked down at the plant. It looked pretty much like every plant she had ever seen. Sara was a doctor, not a horticulturist. She couldn’t even grow a Chia Pet.

  Without warning, her mind was racing again, thinking back to when she first found Julia Matthews on her car. She was trying to remember if the duct tape had been there. With sudden clarity, Sara remembered that it had. She could see the tape on the woman’s mouth. She could see Julia Matthews’s body crucified on the hood of the car.

  “Sara?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Hm?” Sara looked up. Everyone was staring at her, as if they were anticipating a response to something. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “What was it you asked?”

  Mark answered, “I asked if you noticed anything strange about the victims. Were they unable to speak? Did they have a blank stare?”

  Sara handed back the photo. “Sibyl Adams was blind,” she provided. “So of course her stare was blank. Julia Matthews…” She paused, trying to force the image from her mind. “Her eyes were glazed. I imagine it was from being gorked out on this drug more than anything else.”

  Jeffrey gave her a funny look. “Mark mentioned something about belladonna interfering with vision.”

  “There’s a sort of blindsightedness,” Mark said in a tone that implied he was repeating himself. “According to user reports, you can see, but your mind can’t make out what it is you’re seeing. Like I could show you an apple or an orange, and you would be aware that you were seeing something round, maybe textured, but your brain wouldn’t recognize what it is.”

  “I know what blindsightedness is,” Sara returned, realizing too late that her tone was condescending. She tried to cover for this by saying, “Do you think Sibyl Adams experienced this? Maybe that’s why she didn’t scream out?”

  Mark looked at the other men. Obviously, this was another thing he had covered while Sara was zoning out. “There’s been reported loss of voice from the drug. Nothing physically happens in the voice box. There’s no physical restraint or damage caused by the drug. I think it’s more to do with something happening in the language center of the brain. It has to be similar to whatever causes the sight recognition problems.”

  “Makes sense,” Sara agreed.

  Mark continued. “Some signs that it’s been ingested would be cotton mouth, dilated pupils, high body temperature, elevated heart rate, and difficulty breathing.”

  “Both victims experienced all of those symptoms,” Sara provided. “What kind of dose would bring this about?”

  “It’s pretty potent stuff. Just one bag of tea can send somebody loopy, especially if they’re not recreational drug users. The berries aren’t that bad on a scale of things, but anything from the root or the leaf is going to be dangerous, unless you know exactly what you’re doing. And then there’s no guarantee.”

  “The first victim was a vegetarian,” Sara said.

  “She was a chemist, too, right?” Mark asked. “I can think of a million different drugs to fool around with other than belladonna. I don’t think anybody who took the time to research it would take that kind of risk. It’s Russian roulette, especially if you’re dealing with the root. That’s the deadliest part. Just a little bit too much from the root and you’re gone. There’s no known antidote.”

  “I didn’t see any signs of drug use in Julia Matthews.” She said to Jeffrey, “I suppose you’re going to interview her after this?”

  He nodded, then asked Mark, “Anything else?”

  Mark brushed his fingers through his hair. “After the drug, there’s noted constipation, still the cotton mouth, sometimes hallucinations. It’s interesting to know that the drug was used in a sex crime, ironic even.”

  “How’s that?” Jeffrey asked.

  “During the Middle Ages, the drug was sometimes inserted with a vaginal applicator so that the rush would come sooner. There are even some people who think the whole myth of witches flying on broomsticks comes from the image of a woman inserting the drug with a wooden applicator.” He smiled. “But then we’d have to get into a protracted discussion on deity worshipping and the rise of Christianity in European cultures.”

  Mark seemed to sense he had lost his audience. “People in drug communities who know about belladonna tend to stay away from it.” He looked at Sara. “If you’ll excuse the language, ma’am?”

  Sara shrugged. Between the clinic and her father, she had pretty much heard it all.

  Mark still blushed when he said, “It’s a total mind fuck.” He offered Sara a smile in apology. “The number one memory, even among users with amnesia, is flying. They really believe they’re flying, and they can’t understand, even after they come down, that they haven’t actually flown.”

  Jeffrey crossed his arms. “That might explain why she keeps staring out the window.”

  “Has she said anything yet?” Sara asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” Then, “We’re going to the hospital next if you want to see her.”

  Sara looked at her watch, pretending to consider this. There was no way in hell she was going to see Julia Matthews again. It was too much to even think about. “I’ve got patients,” she said.

  Jeffrey indicated his office. “Sara, mind if I talk to you for a second?”

  Sara felt the urge to bolt, but she fought it. “Is this about my car?”

  “No.” Jeffrey waited until she was in his office, then shut the door. Sara sat on the edge of his desk, trying for a casual pose. “I had to take my boat in to work this morning,” Sara said. “Do you know how cold it is on the lake?”

  He ignored this, getting straight to the point. “Found your gun.”

  “Oh,” Sara answered, trying to think of what to say. Of all the things she had been expecting him to say, this was the last one. The Ruger had been in her car for so long that she had forgotten about it. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “It was a gift.”

  Jeffrey gave her a hard look. “What, somebody gave you a three-fifty-seven with the serial numbers filed off for your birthday?”

  Sara shrugged this off. “I’ve had it for years, Jeffrey.”

  “When did you buy that car, Sara? Couple of years ago?”

  “I moved it from the old one when I bought it.”

  He stared at her, not speaking. Sara could tell that he was mad, but she did not know what to say. She tried, “I’ve never used it.”

  “That makes me feel good, Sara,” he snapped. “You’ve got a gun in your car capable of literally taking somebody’s head off and you don’t know how to use it?” He paused, obviously trying to understand. “What’re you gonna do if someone comes after you, huh?”

  Sara knew the answer to this, but she did not say.

  Jeffrey asked, “Why do you have it in the first place?”

  Sara studied her ex-husband, trying to figure out the best way to get out of this office without having another fight. She was tired and she was upset. This wasn’t the time to go a few rounds with Jeffrey. Sara just did not have the fight in her at the moment.

  “I just had it,” she answered.

  “You don’t just have this kind of gun,” he said.

/>   “I need to get back to the clinic.” She stood, but he was blocking her exit.

  “Sara, what the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he did not answer. He moved aside, opening the door for her.

  Sara thought for a second that it was a trick. “That’s it?” she asked.

  He stepped aside. “It’s not like I can beat it out of you.”

  She put her hand to his chest, feeling guilty. “Jeffrey.”

  He looked out into the squad room, “I need to go over to the hospital,” he said, obviously dismissing her.

  16

  Lena leaned her head into her hand, trying to close her eyes for just a minute of rest. She had been sitting in a chair outside Julia Matthews’s room for over an hour, and the last few days were finally catching up with her. She was tired and about to start her period. Despite this, her pants were loose on her hips from not eating. When she snapped her paddle holster on over her belt this morning, it was loose against her hip. As the day wore on, it started to rub, chafing her side.

  Lena knew she needed to eat, needed to get back to living her life instead of just dragging along through every day like she was living on borrowed time. For now, she could not imagine doing that. She didn’t want to get up in the morning and go for a run, like she had every morning for the last fifteen years. She did not want to go down to the Krispy Kreme and get coffee with Frank and the other detectives. She did not want to go to pack her lunch or go out to dinner. Every time she looked at food, she felt sick. All she could think was that Sibyl would never eat again. Lena was walking around while Sibyl was dead. Lena was breathing while Sibyl was not. Nothing made sense. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  Lena took a deep breath and let it go, looking up and down the hallway. Julia Matthews was the only patient in the hospital today, which made Lena’s job easy. Except for a nurse who had been floated down on loan from Augusta, it was just Lena and Julia on this floor.

  She stood, trying to walk some sense into her brain. She was feeling punch-drunk, and Lena could not think of anything to fight this other than to remain in motion. Her body ached from restless sleep, and she was still unable to get the image of Sibyl in the morgue out of her mind. Part of Lena was glad that there was another victim, though. Part of Lena wanted to go into Julia Matthews’s room and shake her, to beg her to speak, to tell them who had done this to her, who had killed Sibyl, but Lena knew this would get them nowhere.

  The few times Lena had gone into the room to check on the girl, she had been silent, not answering even the most innocuous questions from Lena. Did she want another pillow? Was there anyone she wanted Lena to call for her?

  Thirsty, the girl had pointed to the pitcher on the hospital table rather than ask for water. Her eyes still had a haunted look about them, too, caused by the fact that the drug was still in her system. Her pupils were wide open, and she had the look of someone who was blind—blind like Sibyl had been. Only Julia Matthews would recover from this. Julia Matthews would see again. She would get better. She would go back to school and make friends, maybe meet a husband one day and have kids. Memories of what had happened would always be in the back of Julia Matthews’s mind, but at least she would have a life. At least she would have a future. Lena knew that part of her resented Matthews for this. Lena knew, too, that she would trade Julia Matthews’s life for Sibyl’s on a second’s notice.

  The elevator dinged open, and Lena put her hand to her gun without thinking. Jeffrey and Nick Shelton walked into the hallway, followed by Frank and a skinny-looking kid who looked like he had just come from his high school graduation. She dropped her hand, walking to meet them, thinking she’d be damned if all those men were going to go into the small hospital room containing a woman who had just been raped. Especially Opie.

  “How’s she doing?” Jeffrey asked.

  Lena skipped the question. “You’re not all going in there, are you?”

  The look on Jeffrey’s face said he had planned just this.

  “She’s still not talking,” Lena said, trying to help him save face. “She hasn’t said anything.”

  “Maybe just you and I should go in,” he finally decided. “Sorry, Mark.”

  The young man did not seem to mind. “Hey, I’m just glad this got me out of the office for a day.”

  Lena thought it was pretty shitty of him to say this within walking distance of a woman who had arguably been to hell and back, but Jeffrey caught her arm before she could say anything. He led her up the hallway, talking as they walked.

  “She’s stable?” he asked. “Her medical condition?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jeffrey stopped at the door to the room, his hand on the handle but not opening it. “How about you? You’re doing okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I have a feeling her parents are going to want to move her to Augusta. How do you feel about going with her?”

  Lena’s first impulse was to protest, but she nodded an uncharacteristic acquiescence. It might do her some good to get out of town. Hank would be going back to Reece in a day or two. Maybe she would feel differently when she had the house back to herself.

  “I’ll let you start,” Jeffrey said. “If she looks like she’ll be more comfortable with just you, then I’ll step out.”

  “Right,” Lena said, knowing this was standard procedure. Generally, the last thing a woman who had been raped wanted to do was talk to a man about it. As the only female detective on the squad, this job had fallen to Lena a couple of times before. She had even gone to Macon once to help interview a young girl there who had been brutally beaten and raped by her next-door neighbor. Still, even though Lena had been at the hospital all day with Julia, something about actually talking to the girl, interviewing her, made Lena feel sick to her stomach. It was too close to home.

  “You ready?” Jeffrey asked, his hand on the door.

  “Yeah.”

  Jeffrey opened the door, letting Lena go in ahead of him. Julia Matthews was asleep, but she woke at the noise. Lena didn’t imagine the young girl would have a good night’s sleep for a long while, if ever.

  “Want some water?” Lena asked, walking to the far side of the bed, picking up the pitcher. She filled the girl’s glass, then turned the straw so she could drink.

  Jeffrey stood with his back close to the door, obviously wanting to give the young girl space. He said, “I’m Chief Tolliver, Julia. Do you remember me from this morning?”

  She gave a slow nod.

  “You’ve ingested a drug called belladonna. Do you know what that is?”

  She shook her head side to side.

  “It causes you to lose your voice sometimes. Do you think you can speak?”

  The girl opened her mouth, and a scratchy sound came out. She moved her lips, obviously trying to form words.

  Jeffrey gave an encouraging smile. “Want to try to tell me your name?”

  She opened her mouth again, her voice raspy and small. “Julia.”

  “Good,” Jeffrey said. “This is Lena Adams. You know her, right?”

  Julia nodded, her eyes finding Lena.

  “She’s going to ask you some questions, okay?”

  Lena tried not to hide her surprise. She wasn’t sure she could tell Julia Matthews the time of day, let alone question the young woman. Lena fell back on her training, starting with what she knew.

  “Julia?” Lena pulled a chair up to the young woman’s bed. “We need to know if you can tell us anything about what was done to you.”

  Julia closed her eyes. Her lips quivered, but she did not answer.

  “Did you know him, sweetie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Was it someone from one of your classes? Had you seen him around school?”

  Julia’s eyes closed. Tears came a few seconds later. She finally said, “No.”

  Lena put her hand on the girl’s arm. It was thin and frail, much as Sibyl’s had se
emed in the morgue. She tried not to think about her sister when she said, “Let’s talk about his hair. Can you tell me what color it was?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Any tattoos or marks that might help us identify him?”

  “No.”

  Lena said, “I know this is hard, honey, but we have to find out what happened. We need to get this guy off the street so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

  Julia kept her eyes closed. The room was intolerably quiet, so much so that Lena felt the urge to do something loud. The silence was making her nervous for some reason.

  Without warning, Julia finally spoke. Her voice was husky. “He tricked me.”

  Lena pressed her lips together, letting the girl have her time.

  “He tricked me,” Julia repeated, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. “I was at the library.”

  Lena thought about Ryan Gordon. Her heart thumped in her chest. Had she been wrong about him? Was he capable of doing something like this? Maybe Julia had escaped while he was in jail.

  “I had a test,” Julia continued, “and I stayed late to study.” Her breathing became labored at the memory.

  “Let’s take some deep breaths,” Lena said, then she breathed in and out, in and out, with Julia. “That’s good, honey. Just keep calm.”

  She started to cry in earnest now. “Ryan was there,” she said.

  Lena allowed herself to look at Jeffrey. He was focused on Matthews, his brow furrowed. She could almost read his thoughts.

  “At the library?” Lena asked, trying not to sound too pushy.

  Julia nodded, then reached out for her glass of water.

  “Here,” Lena said, helping her lean up so that she could drink.

  The girl took several swallows, then let her head drop back down. She stared out the window again, her mind obviously taking time to recover. Lena tried not to tap her foot. She wanted to reach over the bed and force the girl to talk. She could not understand how Julia Matthews could be so passive in her interrogation. If Lena were in that bed, she would be spitting out every detail she had. Lena would be pushing whoever would listen to find the man who did this. Her hands would be itching to rip his heart out of his chest. How Julia Matthews could just lie there, she did not know.