Karin Slaughter - Blindsighted

"Does it need any specific kind of soil or feed?" Jeffrey asked, passing the photo to Frank.

"It's a weed. It can grow practically anywhere. That's what makes it so popular. The only thing is, it's a bad drug." Mark paused at this. "The high is prolonged, lasts about three to four hours, depending on how much you take. Users report very real hallucinations. A lot of times they'll actually think it happened, if they can remember it."

Sara asked, "It causes amnesia?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, selective amnesia, which means they only remember bits and pieces. Like she might remember it was a man that took her, but she won't remember what he looked like even if she was staring him in the face. Or she might say he was purple with green eyes." He paused. "It's a hallucinogen, but not like your typical PCP or LSD. Users report that there's no discerning between the hallucination and the real thing. With, say, angel dust, ecstasy, what have you, you know you're hallucinating. Belladonna makes everything seem real. If I gave you a cup of Datura, when you came around you might swear to me you had a conversation with a coatrack. I could hook you up to a lie detector and you'd come out as telling the truth. It takes things that are there in reality and puts a twist on them."

"Tea?" Jeffrey asked, giving Sara a look.

"Yes, sir. Kids've been boiling it in tea to drink." He clasped his hands behind him. "I've got to tell you, though, it's dangerous stuff. Real easy to OD on."

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 the)' 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."