The next morning Sam called Beast on the ride over to meet Jackie. She gave him Nina’s cell phone number. Without the SIM card he would have to contact the phone company and wait for their report on the last calls made and received from Nina’s phone. He promised to get something to her by the end of the day, if not sooner.
It wasn’t difficult to miss Jackie. She was an abstract watercolor in a lime green cape and multi-colored scarf dress layered over black leggings. Jackie paced on five-inch lime green heels Sam would have never attempted. A scarlet-colored bag that looked like it weighed more than Jackie was slung over one shoulder.
“It’s about time, girlfriend. I have been out here for two long minutes. Three men have already tried picking me up.”
“Did you get their phone numbers?”
Jackie pointed at the sign. “They came out of this place. Who knows what kind of phobias and itises they have.”
“And you want me to go in there?”
“Well, guess they cure more than addicts and sociopaths with serial killer thoughts.”
They pushed through the front door of the Morning Glory Clinic and were greeted with soft tinkling music piped in the background. To their right was a waterfall seeping down a marble wall and into a pond. Oriental was the theme of the clinic. Bonsai trees in colorful planters were on each of the tables. The marble floor glistened and overhead lights were muted. Either they were saving on electricity or they wanted to keep the mood calm and serene. A marble staircase swept up to the second floor.
“May I help you?” The receptionist was as clinical and refined as their surroundings. She would fit comfortably behind a cosmetics counter with her peaches and cream complexion and blonde hair that gleamed under the lights. She and her assistant were dressed more for a business office. Starched white uniforms were not to be seen anywhere, at least not in the front office. The name plate for Miss Blonde and Gleaming said Olivia.
Jackie stepped up before Sam could open her mouth. “We wanted to find out more about that HypnoBirthing that’s all the rage.” Jackie appeared so excited it was hard to tell who was the expectant mother.
“Is this for both of you?”
“Oh, no, no.” Jackie dragged Sam to the counter. “My friend, Sam, is pregnant with twins. Over three months now.”
Sam was hoping for a hole to open in the floor so she could drop through. She already had a struggle with her closet this morning to find a pair of slacks without an elastic waistband that would button. Just to feel comfortable she had to surrender and grab a pair of gray leggings and layer a plaid painter’s smock over a turtleneck. The ankle boots were gray suede with a comfortable two-inch heel.
“Congratulations. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see if one of our consultants can spend a few moments with you.” Olivia picked up the phone as Sam and Jackie turned from the counter and picked seats by the waterfall. One woman in a rhinestone jogging suit sat across from them thumbing through a Self magazine. A young woman with blue streaks in her hair tapped her nails on the chair arms while her right leg bounced nervously. The blue polish on her nails was chipped and in need of a do-over.
“This place looks more like a spa,” Sam whispered.
“Nuh uh,” Jackie mumbled. She leaned in and whispered, “The jogger is hooked on sleeping pills. Don’t you see the bags under her eyes? And the teen is going through major withdrawal, probably meth or those bath salts. A stupid waste of the most important years of her life.”
“How did I miss that?”
“Ladies?” Olivia motioned them to the counter as a woman in a Wall Street business suit walked through a back doorway. “Doctor Stone can see you now.”
Sam and Jackie followed a statuesque blonde down a hallway to an office on the right. Certificates and photos lined the walls while a bulletin board of a variety of pictures was on the wall by the door. It contained individual snapshots of women. The furniture was plush and reeked of money. The office should have been in Chicago’s Merchandise Mart, not a doctor’s office, and the statuesque blonde looked more like a Parisian model than a therapist.
“Which one of you is the lucky mother-to-be?”
“I am.” Sam took a seat in a plush cream-colored chair. Jackie took a seat next to her. “I’m not familiar with HypnoBirthing. Can you tell me what it involves, how long it takes, and most importantly, is it effective?”
“Most definitely.” Doctor Stone handed Sam several pamphlets. “It was developed by hypnotherapist Marie Mongan and uses the natural birth philosophy developed in the nineteen twenties.”
“Am I actually hypnotized?”
“Oh no. It’s more like daydreaming. You’ll be able to converse but you’ll be totally relaxed and in total control. The pain actually comes from fear. Believe me, I’ve had three children, two children using this technique. I know the difference between the pain I felt with my first and the total pain-free of childbirth with my next two. Most women aren’t aware of what to expect, so their muscles contract and resist the natural function of the body. That is what causes the pain. HypnoBirthing puts your mind in a natural calm relaxed state which releases endorphins and suppresses the pain.”
Sam doubted this woman ever had a baby. Her body was too well toned. She opened one of the brochures with the smiling babies and wondered if they kept the mothers’ screaming faces away from the camera.
Jackie asked, “How long does this training take?”
“There are five two-and-a-half hour sessions. We provide you with two CDs to watch at home, plus provide suggestions for good pregnancy nutrition, relaxation techniques, body toning exercises, all of this for the home besides the classes here.”
“So how does it work if you aren’t hypnotized?” Sam still wasn’t sold on the procedure.
“I would think it’s the same as yoga,” Jackie offered. “You know, all that mantra stuff and putting yourself into a Zen state. After all, I’ve seen those live hypnotist shows where they have people barking like a dog and pretending they’re all naked and stuff.”
“Please, don’t compare us to carnival acts.”
“But aren’t there some people who can’t be hypnotized?” Sam asked.
“Of course, but hypnosis isn’t all dangling medallions and looking into a light. It’s all in getting the patient into a relaxed state.”
Doctor Stone’s phone rang. Sam pushed away from the desk and walked over to the window. There was a great view of the nature center with its walking trail. The clinic and its property sprawled across ten square blocks. It stood two stories high and boasted two sleep research labs. Sam strolled past the wall of certificates and stopped in front of the bulletin board. She heard the doctor end her call and was just ready to return to her seat when a photo of someone familiar caught her eye—Marti Johnson. Why was Marti’s picture here?
“Are these patients?” Sam asked.
“We refer to them as clients. Some have agreed to the use of their name and testimonials in marketing pieces.”
Leave it up to Jackie to think of money. “This all sounds pretty expensive. After all, you gotta pay for all this marble and that waterfall in the lobby.” Jackie’s nails reached for the ceiling. “Lordy, that had to cost a fortune.”
“Our prices are in the brochure but everything is piecemeal. Not everyone wants the CDs and binder with nutritional and exercise diets. Now, I do have another appointment.”
As Sam thanked her for her time she caught sight of another face she recognized. Had she finally found the missing piece that linked all the victims together? Several photos away from Marti Johnson’s was one of Carly Farnswood.