I dreamed of a cave.
Not an ordinary cave, but an immense space underground, its walls covered with symbols that seemed to pulse with their own light. In the center, a perfect circle of shining black stones. And within the circle, something that moved, something I couldn't - or perhaps didn't want to - see clearly.
I woke up drenched in sweat, the sound of my own scream still echoing in the empty room.
7:15 in the morning. I had slept less than three hours.
I got up staggering, still disturbed by the dream. On the bedside table, my diary and a pen - indispensable tools for someone suffering from dissociative amnesia. Before even having my first coffee, I recorded everything I remembered from the previous night, including the episode in the park and the meeting with Robert.
But something prevented me from recording the dream. Some primitive instinct insisted that putting it into words would make it more real. And there was enough reality to deal with that morning.
In the bathroom, I faced my reflection in the mirror. Jack Reynolds, 38, dark brown hair beginning to show gray at the temples, blue eyes shadowed by deep dark circles. It wasn't an unpleasant face - some women might even consider it attractive - but there was something in my expression, something in the eyes, that suggested a man carrying an invisible weight.
While shaving, my mind returned to Megan Keller's bracelet. How had it gotten into my pocket? Had I really found some clue about the girl's whereabouts during my episode, or had something more sinister happened?
The thought was too disturbing to consider.
My cell phone rang while I was preparing coffee. It was Robert.
"Meeting at the station in an hour," he announced without preamble. "We have a new development in the Keller case."
My stomach contracted. "Did they find something in the park?"
A pause. "Not exactly. Just come, Jack."
The Saint John Police Station occupied a Victorian building that had once been the city hall in the 19th century. The city itself had that aspect - a mixture of eras and architectural styles that created a unique atmosphere, as if different periods of history coexisted.
The main office was buzzing with the usual morning activity when I arrived. I nodded to some colleagues as I walked to the meeting room in the back. Before I could enter, Robert appeared in the hallway and pulled me aside.
"Jack, I need to prepare you for this," he said quietly. "They brought someone from outside to work on the case. Someone with... specialization in serial disappearances."
I frowned. "Why? This is just the first disappearance in months."
Robert briefly looked away. "Officially, yes. But there have been... patterns being monitored at the federal level. Apparently, Saint John isn't the only small town with cases like this."
Before I could question further, the door to the meeting room opened. A woman came out, and my entire body froze.
Tall, short black hair, dark and intense eyes. She wore a well-cut black suit that gave her an appearance simultaneously professional and intimidating. But it wasn't her appearance that shocked me.
It was the overwhelming feeling that I knew her.
"Detective Reynolds," Robert spoke formally, "this is Detective Olivia Bennett, from the Special Missing Persons Unit. She'll be working with you on the Keller case."
Olivia extended her hand, her face completely neutral. "It's a pleasure, Detective Reynolds. I've heard a lot about you."
I shook her hand automatically, still fighting against the strange feeling of familiarity. "From New York?" I asked, trying to place where I might have known her.
"Not exactly," she replied with a small smile. "My unit is... independent. We work with specific cases across the country."
The meeting that followed was tense. Besides me, Robert, and Olivia, Officer James Parker was present, responsible for patrols in the sector where Megan disappeared, and Lisa Chen, our forensic specialist.
"We have a new element," Robert began, placing a folder on the table. "This morning, the Keller family received this."
He opened the folder, revealing a photograph of a notebook page. On it, written in childish handwriting, were the words: "DON'T LOOK FOR ME. HE DOESN'T LIKE IT."
"This seems..." I began.
"Forced," Olivia completed, leaning in to examine the photo better. "The handwriting is irregular, as if the hand was being guided."
"We believe it's authentic," Robert informed. "The mother confirmed it's Megan's handwriting, and we found partial fingerprints from the girl."
"'He doesn't like it,'" I repeated slowly. "Who would 'he' be?"
"That's where things get interesting," Olivia spoke up, opening her own folder. "In the last five years, there have been six disappearances in cities within a 200-kilometer radius of Saint John. Three of the victims left similar messages."
She spread photographs on the table. Each showed a different message, but all contained the phrase "he doesn't like it" or variations.
"Why are we only hearing about this now?" I questioned, looking directly at Robert.
"Different jurisdictions," he answered, avoiding my gaze. "It was Detective Bennett who connected the cases."
Olivia nodded. "All victims disappeared without signs of struggle. All between 12 and 30 years old. And all the cases remain unsolved."
A heavy silence fell over the room as we absorbed the information. Finally, I cleared my throat.
"So we're dealing with a serial predator."
"Possibly," Olivia replied, her gaze fixed on me in a way that made me uncomfortable. "Or something more complex."
"Like what?" asked Lisa, our forensic specialist.
"I'm not sure yet," Olivia admitted. "But there are ritual elements in these disappearances. The dates, for example. All occurred close to specific moon phases. And in all the locations where the victims were last seen, we found the same symbol."
She showed a drawing in her notebook. It was identical to the symbol that Robert and I had seen in the park the night before - the stylized eye inside a circle.
My gaze met Robert's, who subtly shook his head, as if asking me not to mention our nocturnal encounter.
"We'll form search teams," Robert declared, retaking control of the meeting. "Parker, organize patrols to cover the park and surroundings. Lisa, I need you to analyze the note again, look for any indication of where it might have been written. Jack and Detective Bennett will work together on the main investigation."
"Actually," Olivia intervened, "I'd like to start by reviewing all of Megan's personal files. Diaries, browsing history, text messages."
"We've already done that," I observed.
"Yes, but I have... a different perspective," she replied enigmatically.
The meeting ended, and everyone left to start their tasks. Robert detained me again in the hallway.
"Jack, about last night..." he began quietly.
"Why didn't you mention the symbol we found?" I interrupted. "Or the bracelet?"
Robert looked around to ensure we were alone. "I'm trying to protect you. Given your... condition, and the fact that you woke up exactly where that symbol was found..." he let the implication hang in the air.
"You think I might be a suspect?" I asked, incredulous.
"Not officially," he hurried to clarify. "But Bennett is perceptive. She'll make connections. We need to be careful."
"And the bracelet?"
"It's being analyzed discreetly. If it's really Megan's, we'll create a story about how we found it."
Before I could protest, Olivia appeared at the end of the hallway.
"Detective Reynolds?" she called. "I'm ready to start whenever you are."
I nodded to her and gave Robert one last look. His expression was tense, worried. And, for the first time since I had known him, I noticed something I had never seen before.
Fear. Robert Hayes was afraid.
As I followed Olivia to my office, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being dragged into something much bigger and more dangerous than a simple missing person case. Something that, somehow, I already knew, but had forgotten.
Like so many other things.