The Door at the Top of the Stairs Page 23

  He was carrying a heavy container in his right hand that banged against his leg as he walked. She watched him switch it to his other hand and once he was a good distance away, she began moving from tree to tree, following him. When he came to the clearing around the barn, he stopped and lowered the container to the ground then knelt next to it and waited.

  Jesse guessed he was listening, making sure Morgan wasn't out on one of her night patrols. When he was satisfied he was alone, he surprised Jesse by bypassing the barn and heading straight for the kennels. She moved up to the corner of the barn and slowly edged her head around so she could watch without him seeing her. He set the container on the ground, and moved his hand and arm as though unscrewing a cap. Jesse's heart raced as he poured a liquid around the base of the wooden kennel wall.

  Her legs couldn't move fast enough as she raced toward him, knowing she had to stop him before he had time to light the gasoline. He jerked his head her way at the same time he swung the can in an arc. Before she could react, a wave of gasoline soaked her head and shoulders. She tackled him as the fumes triggered memories from the room. Her throat closed as she fought, and she knew that if she couldn't breathe she'd pass out before she could stop him from burning the hounds.

  He was a clumsy fighter and whenever he'd swing his arm to hit her, he'd lead with his head. She stepped back, giving him a clear target to her face, hoping he'd swing hard. When he did, she timed her punch to take advantage of his forward motion and threw her full weight behind her fist. She heard him groan as he fell to his knees long enough for her to open the outside gate for the hounds, who didn't wait two seconds before joyfully stampeding to freedom.

  Morgan sat bolt-upright in bed, knowing instantly that someone had let the hounds out of their kennels. Their joyous barking meant they were ecstatic that someone had come to play.

  She leapt out of bed, threw on her clothes and yelled for Ryland to call the sheriff as she slammed open the door and ran out into the night.

  The moon lighted the path as she raced for the kennels where she saw someone pummeling another person who was on their hands and knees struggling to stand. As she ran closer, she smelled gasoline and recognized Cody, who had just landed a hard blow to Jesse's midsection with his boot. Rage overpowered her senses, and she threw Cody up against the kennels and pounded his face over and over until someone grabbed her arm from behind.

  Jesse managed to choke out, “You'll kill him...you have to stop."

  Morgan heard her struggling to breathe and forced her anger down. Cody dropped to the ground as she let go of his neck and took Jesse's face in her hands. "Slow your breathing, Jesse. You can breathe." She brought Jesse's damp head close and realized she was soaked in gasoline. “Jesus!" She let go and reached down to turn on a hose.

  When she turned back, Ryland took the hose from her and held it over Jesse. "You watch Cody to make sure he doesn’t wake up and light a match. I've got her."

  Morgan dragged Cody away from the gasoline and searched him. He had a lighter and several books of matches, which she took and stuffed deep into her pockets. She heard a siren in the distance and watched anxiously as Ryland rinsed Jesse and tried to help her breathe.

  Two patrol cars drove down to the barn, dodging several hounds that were milling about, enjoying their freedom. The deputies took Cody from Morgan, and she ran over to check Jesse.

  Ryland was still rinsing off the gas, but Jesse had recovered enough to complain about being soaked to the skin.

  Morgan went into the kennels and brought out a second hose, which she connected to another faucet and began hosing down the gasoline-soaked ground. A third patrol car pulled up and Sheriff Carlson stepped out, his uncombed hair standing out at unnatural angles from his head.

  "Everybody all right? Dispatch called me out of bed, said there was big trouble and I should get down here."

  Morgan filled him in on what she knew, and when she finished, he retrieved his Stetson from the patrol car and walked over to where Jesse was sitting. He stood with a wide stance, legs spread, arms crossed. “Why is it every time I see you, you're in another fight?"

  Jesse shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess."

  "Why don't you start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened?"

  Ryland hooked her arm around Jesse's and pulled her toward the house. “You'll get all the information you need after she's had a shower and changed into dry clothes. In the meantime, you can help Morgan corral these hounds and put them back to bed."

  The sheriff touched the tip of his hat. “Yes Ma'am. I know an order when I hear it."

  Jesse allowed Ryland to lead her up the path to the house. She took a long, hot shower and pulled on the clean clothes Morgan and the sheriff had brought up from her apartment. The three of them were sitting at the table drinking coffee when Jesse walked into the kitchen. The sheriff stood up and pulled out a chair for her.

  There was no way she'd sit where he told her to, and when she started toward a different chair, Morgan growled, “Don't even think about it."

  "I'll sit where I want."

  "He's being a gentleman."

  "He's setting the stage for an interrogation, my back to the wall, him fencing me in. Fuck that shit." She pulled out a chair where her back was to the open room and sat, arms crossed, waiting for Morgan to react.

  The sheriff chuckled. “Am I that transparent?"

  Morgan hesitated, then got up and poured a mug of coffee for Jesse. She brought the creamer from the refrigerator, mixed it with some sweetener and stirred it all up. She set the cup down in front of Jesse and went back to her seat.

  Jesse watched her suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  The sheriff sat and picked up his coffee mug. “Okay...if it's all right with Ryland...." He pointedly looked at Ryland, who nodded.

  “I'd appreciate it if you'd tell us all what happened."

  Jesse took a sip of coffee, letting the warm liquid soothe her aching throat. Trying to pull in air through constricted airways had shredded her windpipe, and she cleared her throat carefully.

  Ryland pulled her chair closer to Jesse’s. “Does your throat hurt?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Just a little.” She felt her face flush when Ryland took her hand and held it in her lap. She glared at Morgan, daring her to say something, but Morgan just sat back, waiting for her to tell them what had happened. She cleared her throat again.

  “Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I was out sitting on the porch. I saw a truck drive down the road without any headlights on, and I figured it might be Cody coming to do something to Aristotle.” She took another sip of coffee. “I headed into the forest ‘cause I wanted to catch him doing it so I could beat the shit out of him.” She glanced up at the sheriff. “Somebody’s been poisoning one of our horses.” Morgan and Ryland exchanged surprised looks at Jesse’s use of the word “our.” Morgan grinned and Ryland winked at her.

  Sheriff Carlson nodded. “I know, I’ve been making some inquiries at the various farm supply stores to see who might have bought some pesticide they didn’t usually need. But go on with your story.”

  Jesse retrieved her hand from Ryland’s lap and crossed her arms. “I saw him carrying something to the barn. Then he went around to the kennels and started pouring the gasoline on the wood. I ran up and he got lucky and soaked me in gasoline.” She stood up and walked to the sink, keeping her back to them. She wasn’t sure how to explain to the sheriff why she couldn’t breathe without telling him about what Richard had done to her.

  Ryland stepped in to help. “I don’t know how anyone could function after being drenched in gasoline. I’m surprised the fumes didn’t make you pass out.”

  Jesse turned back to them and nodded. “I thought I was gonna pass out. That’s why I opened the kennels, ‘cause I knew I had to get Morgan’s attention somehow.”

  Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Well, it worked.”

  “After the hounds were out, I saw Cody reach into his pocket,
so I went after him again. Then Morgan showed up.” She returned to the table to sit down again. “You know the rest.” Everyone looked at the sheriff, who picked up his hat and stood. “Well, that answers most of my questions. If I have any more, I’ll contact you. My thanks for the coffee, ladies, and don't worry about Cody. He'll be charged with attempted arson and attempted murder. Not to mention the fact that his fingerprints matched some we lifted from several of the local burglaries. He won't be getting out of jail anytime soon."

  Morgan stood as well. “Did they match the prints you took from the pack of cigarettes?”

  He nodded. “Yes Ma’am, they did, but unfortunately, planting cigarettes isn’t a criminal offense.”

  Morgan nodded. “Maybe not, but it means a lot to me.” The sheriff started out the door, then turned back. “By the way, someone in town has been asking around about you, Jesse.

  Any idea who that might be?”

  Jesse raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. A man or woman?”

  “A man. I haven’t seen him yet; I’ve just been hearing things.

  Anyway, ladies.” He tipped his hat and walked out the door.

  Morgan followed him out to his car, then returned to the kitchen rubbing her right fist. “I'd forgotten how much it hurts to punch somebody that many times." She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. “Well, considering it's five o'clock, we'd better get down and feed everybody." Jesse stood up to join her and the two of them walked back to the barn. Morgan stopped her before she stepped through the barn door. "Hey, you saved my animals and my farm. I'll be indebted to you for the rest of my life. Thank you."

  Jesse hesitated. “After all you and Ryland have done for me, I think we can call it even." She turned and walked into the barn, and for the first time, actually felt like she was home.

  Chapter Thirty

  At dinner the next night, Ryland realized Jesse was moody and upset about something. Her answers were short and clipped, and she'd been trying to push Morgan into a fight all evening. Morgan hadn't taken the bait, and that served to make Jesse even more temperamental. They hadn't had a session that afternoon because of all the drama the previous morning, and Ryland wondered what was going on in Jesse's head.

  "Something's bothering you, Jesse. What's the matter?"

  "Nothing."

  Ryland reached over and tapped the back of Jesse’s hand.

  "'Nothing' sure has you upset. I'd like to know what it is."

  Jesse gathered her dishes and took them to the sink. Washing dishes was something she actually enjoyed, and she plugged the drain and began to fill the sink with soapy water. The other two were finished with their meal, and she carried the rest of the dishes over and set them in the water.

  Ryland turned her chair to face the sink. “Jesse, what is it?

  Right now, you don't have the luxury to ignore your feelings and stuff them back in. Now, tell me—what's bothering you?"

  Jesse began washing the dishes and rinsing them, placing them on the counter to await drying. “Why couldn't I see the scars? I see blood covering my face, and it's not really there, and I see un-scarred flesh where there are scars. Where else do I have scars that I don't know about, that the rest of the world can see? What kind of a freak am I?" She threw the sponge into the water and walked out the back door, down the porch stairs and out to the road. She wasn't sure where she was going, she just was.

  The door pushed open behind her. Morgan walked up on her left, Ryland on her right. They walked in silence for about a quarter-mile, until Morgan said, “I'd really rather walk in the pasture; it's a hell of a lot prettier."

  Jesse stopped, fuming. “I don't remember asking you to come along." She turned off the road and climbed the fence into one of Morgan's pastures, the other two following behind.

  Morgan caught up and fell in beside her again. "I don't remember needing your permission to go for a walk." Ryland joined them and interlaced her fingers with Morgan's, deciding to take advantage of a beautiful stroll in the moonlight.

  Jesse’s hands were stuffed deep in her pockets and she was kicking rocks in front of her as she went. "He whipped me, didn't he?"

  Ryland shrugged. “I don't know. Did he?"

  Jesse picked up a rock and threw it as far as she could. "You know."

  "I wasn't there, Jesse. How could I know? Do you remember being whipped?"

  "No."

  "Then why do you say he whipped you?"

  "Because there are lines on my back. I saw them last night.

  And because of that second passage in the book. I don't know."

  She picked up another rock and threw it.

  Ryland noticed Jesse's face go red. "What is it, Jesse?"

  Jesse shook her head and angled away from them. When they came up beside her, she stopped and shouted, “Why can't you leave me alone?"

  Ryland reached up and put her free hand to Jesse's cheek.

  "Jesse, there are no scars on your face that are hidden from you.

  No blood, nothing. People can't see what happened to you."

  Jesse jerked away from Ryland's hand and started walking again. After a minute, she stopped and turned so abruptly that the two women almost bumped into her. Her eyes locked onto Morgan's. “Where else do I have scars that I don't know about?

  What do people see that I don't?"

  Morgan shrugged. “The parts I can see—your face, your arms

  —nothing."

  Jesse stripped off her shirt and jeans and stood with her arms out from her body. "Where else, Morgan? I need to know."

  A purple bruise covered Jesse's stomach and Ryland reached out and rubbed it with the back of her fingers. "Is that from when Cody kicked you yesterday?"

  Jesse pushed Ryland's hand away. “That's not what I'm talking about. Where else, Morgan?" She stepped away from Ryland so Morgan could see better.

  Morgan slowly walked around her, trying to find scars they didn't know about. "There are some scars on the back of your right leg similar to the ones on your back."

  Jesse twisted around to see the back of her thigh. She reached back and felt the scars Morgan was talking about and nodded.

  "Where else?"

  "I don't see anymore."

  "My face?" Jesse blushed a deep shade of crimson again.

  "Nothing."

  "Swear on your mother's soul."

  Morgan bent down, picked up Jesse's clothes and handed them to her. "I can't swear on my sainted mother's soul with you standing there in your underwear."

  Jesse's mouth quirked up a little as she pulled on her clothes.

  When she'd dressed, she stepped in front of Morgan, who said, “I swear on my sainted mother's soul there are no scars on your face."

  Jesse scowled. “Your mother wasn't a saint."

  "How do you know?"

  "She had you, didn't she? That's probably gonna keep her out of heaven, let alone sainthood." Jesse slipped around behind Ryland before Morgan could grab her. The three of them drifted back to the house, Ryland between the other two, trying to keep them from playfully punching each other as they walked.

  The next day at one o'clock, Jesse stepped onto the house porch and waited. She put her hand up to knock, then lowered it again and sat in a wooden rocker near the door. The rocking mirrored what was happening in her mind, which was absolutely nothing. When she tried to think of the room, she drew a blank.

  Morgan came up the path from the kennels and stepped onto the first step. "Ryland thinks we're close to being done. Maybe today won't be so bad."

  The slow rocking continued, and Morgan walked up and opened the door. “C'mon, Jess."

  Jesse stood up and walked inside. Ryland wasn't in the living room, so she went to the kitchen to see whether she was doing something in there.

  Ryland came down the hall from the office. “I'm right here. I couldn't get off the phone. Let’s sit down." She arranged the furniture the way she always had it during the sessions. The coffee ta
ble was pushed sideways, Ryland's chair was where the table usually rested, and Jesse and Morgan sat on the couch. Everyone took their places, and Ryland put her hands around one knee and leaned back. "You haven't had many headaches the last two days have you?"

  Jesse shook her head.

  "Have you been awakened in the middle of the night by pain?"

  "No."

  "Nausea, cold sweats—anything?"

  "No."

  "What do you think of that?"

  Jesse shrugged. “I think my brain's shutting down."

  Ryland raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Very good. How did you figure that out?"

  "Because my mind is blank. It's gone." Jesse's jaws clenched, concern written on her face.

  Ryland studied her a minute. Unfortunately, she knew the pain would return ten-fold once they began opening more of the deeper memories today.

  Jesse raised her eyes to Ryland's. “Maybe it's okay. Maybe just knowing he whipped me is all I need. I don't think I have to remember it—just know it happened, that's all."

  "The problem with that, Jesse, is that the memories are there, buried, and we've been working for months now to chip away at your controls, to weaken them. Do you remember telling us sometimes your brain felt as though it was full of stones, ready to explode?"

  "Yeah."

  "Does it still feel that way?"

  "It's...different."

  "In what way?"

  She shrugged. “Not always, but sometimes, it's more like a black pit. I don't know how to explain it."

  "Just say what comes to your mind. If it's wrong, you'll know."

  "Well, you remember I told you that guy you worked with, the guy from Vietnam, must have been terrified?"

  Ryland nodded.

  "It's...well, it's like the pit is full of terror...kind of boiling."

  She hesitated. “No, that's not right." Boiling didn't explain what she saw, so she began spilling out words that described what was there. “Insane, incensed, demented, raging. It's all those things.

  Shit, I'm not making sense." She stood up and went to the window.

  "And you're trying to hold that in?"