frowned up at the ceiling. “It all seemed so real.” She was curled up on a leather chair with her shoes off.
“That’s what hallucinations are like,” Dr. Peters continued. “It’s very hard to distinguish one from reality. What you shouldn’t have done was taken that additional tablet.”
“I know,” she groaned. “But lately my nightmares have become so vivid. I can’t seem to get enough sleep.”
“I understand that, but what you did was very dangerous. You should’ve simply come to me,” he scolded.
With a sigh, Alexandra looked at him. He was a small man in his early sixties and he wore wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like an owl.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “But I still don’t undertand how taking one extra tablet could cause me to visualize something like that. I mean, I usually dream of castles and fire. So, why am I hallucinating about this creature?”
The doctor clasped his fingers together on his desk. “There is a logical reason for that, I’m sure.”
She sat up. “Like what?”
“Well, if you consider all the hype surrounding the recent Central Park sightings of a mystery creature and your proximity to that location, I daresay that you’re transferring suppressed fear into imagery,” he said.
Alexandra thought for a moment. It sounded logical, except that she entertained no fear where the mysterious Central Park sightings were concerned. She respected Dr. Peters’s opinions, but there was no way she was going to allow him to inject emotions into her mind. If she’d been hallucinating, it was definitely not due to fear. “And what about the orgasm?” she asked.
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, what you experienced is actually quite common in both men and women. It’s called a nocturnal orgasm or better known as a wet dream.”
When she fixed him with a look of skepticism, he continued. “Alexandra, you must understand something. The mind is very influential. If you believe something is happening to you, then naturally your body will respond. So, having an orgasm during a dream or hallucination isn’t unheard-of.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she sat there in a con templative trance as her thoughts returned to the previous night. Dr. Peters was a wise man and everything he said seemed to make sense, yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe that what she’d seen had been only a figment of her imagination. There were just too many indications that something or someone had indeed visited her during the night.
Dr. Peters stood and came to the front of his desk. “Alexandra, you really must try to forget this,” he said as he seated himself on the lacquered oak finish. “I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no, you’re not crazy. I’m certain it was the overdose that initiated this experience.” When she turned attentive eyes on him, he continued. “What you need now is a warm bath and some rest and I promise you, as long as you follow my instructions, you’ll be fine.”
Dr. Peters’s words replayed in Alexandra’s mind as she stepped out of the taxi. He was right; the idea of what she’d seen was a little farfetched. This was New York City and strange things happened every day, but to think that there was a creature out there that visited lonely women in their beds at night was preposterous.
She glanced at her watch. It was 9:00 p.m. already and the dark streets appeared all but deserted. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a file and flipped to the address page. Mady Halman’s picture greeted her, the girl’s sweet smile and innocent eyes tugging at her heart.
“I’m going to find you,” Alexandra promised softly as she replaced the file in her bag.
She shot a glance about her. The South Bronx definitely wasn’t the kind of place she wanted to frequent. Rows of identical, graffiti-covered apartment complexes lined both sides of the street and garbage littered the sidewalk.
She entered the building where Mady lived and was met by a foyer that reeked of urine and marijuana. She made her way up the dimly lit stairway, skipping over soda cans and cigarette butts. Somewhere on the first floor a door slammed and she could hear shouting. A baby started crying.
Alexandra’s heart pounded. She’d only seen places like this in movies and on the news, but she knew exactly the sort of riffraff that frequented them. She quickly counted the numbers on the apartment doors until she found the one she was looking for.
She knocked softly and a moment later the muffled voice of a woman greeted her.
“Who’s there?”
Alexandra focused on the peephole, for she was certain she was being observed from the other end. “Hi. I’m looking for Ms. Veronica Halman. I would like to speak with her concerning her daughter’s dis appearance.”
There was a brief silence, then the sound of a set of locks being released. The door opened a crack and a woman looked out from behind the chain.
“I’m Veronica Halman. Who’re you?” She was a middle-aged woman with a humble face that was etched with lines of grief.
Alexandra offered her a smile. “I’m Alexandra Barret. I’m a reporter for the Daily Sun. I just need a few minutes of your time, please.”
Her request was met by a look of exasperation. “Another reporter? I’m not doing anymore interviews. I’ve talked with so many people already, and no one has any idea what happened to my baby. So please, if you’re not here with something to tell me, then leave.”
She was about to close the door, but Alexandra placed a palm against it, stalling her effort. “Please, Ms. Halman. I only need to talk to you for a few minutes. I can help you,” she pleaded. “I can help you find Mady.”
She tried to appear confident, but inside fear and uncertainty dominated her. Making promises based solely on her visions was terrifying and guilt in spiring.
Ms. Halman eased the door open a measure. “Help me how?”
Alexandra wasn’t certain if she should reveal that she possessed a psychic ability that only of late seemed to be getting stronger. Most people didn’t believe in such things and now that she’d gained Ms. Halman’s attention, she didn’t want to risk losing it. But what other choice did she have?
“I’m … a psychic. I’ve seen Mady in a vision,” Alexandra responded. “She’s alive, and I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to see her returned safely home.”
A glint of hopefulness mingled with doubt reflected beyond the worry in the other woman’s eyes.
“Look,” Alexandra continued. “I know this isn’t something you hear every day, but I promise you, I’m authentic and everything you share with me will remain between us.”
Ms. Halman stared at her for a moment then eased the door shut. Alexandra could hear the chain being released and when the door reopened, Ms. Halman stood to one side and motioned for her to enter.
“Thank you,” Alexandra said as she slipped into the apartment.
The living room was small but neatly kept. A worn floral sofa was positioned against one wall, and on the other, a television set sat on a wooden stand. A
