The Door at the Top of the Stairs Page 5

  She'll help you close the rip each time we remove a stone."

  They were quiet while Ryland continued the calming massage and Jesse processed what she was hearing. The pain gradually eased. She unconsciously leaned back into Ryland's hand and said with less intensity, “How do you know that? How can you say that? I don't have any memories. I don't remember anything.

  There's nothing there."

  Ryland felt Jesse relaxing into her. She leaned in close and spoke even more softly than before. “I can say that because I've helped people just like you for the last forty years. I can say that because I've studied emotional trauma and I know how to help you. You need my help. You want my help, because without it, how much longer can you, as you say, keep your brain from exploding?"

  Jesse desperately wanted to believe her, but she couldn't bring herself to admit that anyone could stop her sliding into whatever insanity was overtaking her. She pushed Ryland's hand off her neck and stood up. The pain immediately returned, the emotional pendulum reversed and she swung back into despair. "You think you can help? You can't help me. Nobody can help and I'll prove it.

  I'll try whatever you're selling one time, that's it. Once. And when you fail, we're done!"

  She almost ran out the door and headed down the path to her apartment. The familiar spike of anger replaced the last vestige of calm Ryland had given her, and she picked up a branch lying on the ground and bashed it against the trunk of a tree over and over until there was nothing left but a shattered stick in her hand. Who were they to assume they could just walk in and fix her? The stick sailed through the air and splintered into pieces as it struck the tree one last time. Her blood was boiling by the time she walked into the barn. The last person she wanted to see was Cody, who was standing inside next to her apartment door.

  He looked her up and down and sneered. “You're sweating.

  Some vigorous afternoon delight, huh? I guess that's one way to get in good with the boss."

  Jesse took one step and landed a solid right cross. She was pleased to hear the crack as his nose broke and he sank to the floor, unconscious. She went into the tack room to get the bucket of medical supplies she'd put together for Comstock. On her way out, she stepped over Cody, grabbed a brush, and went to the stall to start doctoring. Just as she'd finished cleaning the wound, the barn door opened.

  Morgan sounded surprised. "Cody, what happened?"

  Jesse heard Cody reply, but she couldn't make out what he said. The barn door opened and closed again.

  "Jesse?"

  She inserted the needle into the wound and injected the saline solution.

  "Jesse?" Morgan sounded a little closer to Comstock's stall.

  The swelling was looking better, and she refilled the syringe to clean the wound one more time. She felt Morgan’s eyes on the back of her head and slowly swiveled around.

  Morgan stood in the door of the stall. "Did you happen to notice Cody lying on the floor when you walked through the barn?"

  Still squatting on her heels, Jesse turned back to Comstock and wiped the wound with a clean cloth. “Yes Ma'am." She picked up the brush and started cleaning his front legs.

  "I'm talking to you."

  Jesse heard the warning in Morgan’s voice and putting her hands on her knees, pushed herself to a standing position. She faced her boss, one hand casually draped over the horse's withers.

  "What happened?"

  Jesse studied the planking at the bottom of the stall, then walked over and tested the temperature in Comstock's water bowl with her finger. "I think he got tagged out sliding into third." She continued to look anywhere but at Morgan, who was quiet for a very long time.

  Morgan finally said. “I don't like my employees playing baseball when they're supposed to be working."

  Jesse's whole body shook with pent-up tension. She just wanted Morgan to leave. “Yes Ma'am."

  The two of them stood quietly until Morgan added, “Ryland wants us up at the house tomorrow at one o'clock so we can have another talk."

  Jesse watched quietly as Morgan stepped out of the stall to go work with the hounds.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day at twelve forty-five, Ryland presented herself at the barn looking for Jesse. She didn't see her in any of the stalls, so she knocked on the apartment door. There was no answer so she knocked again. “Jesse?"

  Morgan walked in and smiled. “Looks like we had the same idea." She put away a hoof pick she'd forgotten in her pocket from earlier in the day, then pounded on the apartment door. “Jesse, open up...now."

  Jesse opened the door and glared at the two women. "Jesus, you told me to be at your house at one o'clock. You think I can't find my way there, or what?"

  Morgan put her arm on Jesse’s back and propelled her toward the door. “Something like that. Let's go."

  Ryland watched Morgan's version of finesse and shook her head. "Your bedside manor leaves a little to be desired, my love."

  Morgan just grinned back at her as she pushed Jesse through the barn door. Ryland caught up with them and the three of them walked up the path to the house. When they walked in, Ryland told Jesse to sit on the leather couch. Morgan sat in the wingback chair opposite her.

  "Jesse, how about a soda or some water?" She looked at her partner who had just opened her mouth to complain about unfair treatment. “Morgan, I already know you want ice water." Morgan stretched her legs, pleased Ryland knew her so well.

  Jesse mumbled, “Nothing, thanks."

  "Water it is then." She brought out three glasses of ice water, set them on the coffee table, then sat next to Jesse on the couch.

  "Today we start the hard work. One very important rule I need to tell you, Jesse: once we start, we finish. I'm not willing to get partway through therapy and have you run out. Too much can happen. Are you willing to agree to that?"

  "No. I told you, one time is all you get."

  "Well, that's not how it works. Once we start, if I have to have you committed to a hospital in order to finish what we start, I will.

  Once we open the floodgates, you won't be able to close them without professional help."

  Jesse turned her back on Ryland and crossed her arms and legs. Her head had almost ripped apart last night, the pain had been so bad. The only thought that kept her sane was that maybe, just maybe, Ryland and Morgan could do something to stop the pain.

  Morgan crossed her arms too. She hadn't realized this was an all-or-nothing proposition, and for some reason her pulse quickened and the butterflies started in her stomach again.

  Ryland sat back into the cushions. “Let's get started then. I'd like to get some background information. For example, how long has it been since were you a police officer?"

  "About a year."

  "What assignments did you have?"

  Jesse uncrossed her arms and started playing with a thread on the arm of the couch. “Patrol, investigations, and narcotics."

  "You worked narcotics? When?"

  "Right before I retired. The last two years of my career."

  "I'm not very familiar with narcotics. Tell me what you did...how you worked."

  Jesse slouched down in the sofa and put her head back on the pillows. "I worked as an undercover narc. I'd buy drugs on the street or we'd set up controlled buys in hotel rooms, bars, wherever. I had a partner." She squinted, trying to remember something.

  "Tell me about your partner."

  Jesse reached over and picked up a cloth doily, running it through her fingers. "We worked together for two years. He was an older guy. He really didn't appreciate having a new cop as a partner. Especially a woman." Her fingers crumpled the cloth, then stretched it open again.

  Ryland watched her body language. The way Jesse kept working the doily was interesting. She decided to try an experiment. "What was your sergeant like?"

  Jesse put the doily in her lap and left it there. "She was great, really knew her stuff. She'd worked narcotics almost her whole career."

&nbs
p; "How long had your partner worked narcotics?"

  Jesse picked up the doily again and absently turned it in her hands. "Seven years. He was the senior officer in our squad."

  "So you worked with your partner two years in undercover narcotics, then you retired. What was your partner's name?"

  Jesse folded the cloth in half but didn't say anything.

  "Jesse, what was your partner's name?"

  She glanced up at Ryland and shrugged. "It's kinda’ weird, but I don’t remember."

  "That's okay. I want you to think back to the very last assignment you worked with him. What did you two do?"

  "I don't remember. Look, what does this have to do with anything?"

  "How about I ask the questions right now and you just concentrate on trying to remember, because I need to know. What type of drug were you after?"

  Jesse folded the cloth over a second time and went back and forth over the crease, thumb on one side, index finger on the other.

  "Cocaine."

  "Were you buying it on the street or was it a controlled buy?"

  Jesse looked up and to her left, trying to remember. "It was just Pete and me. That's weird...it was a controlled buy, but it was just the two of us." She stared off into space, her eyebrows lowered. “We never went anywhere without back up."

  "So your partner's name was Pete?" Ryland wanted her to realize her memory had just kicked in.

  "Yeah. We went to a dirty little motel to make a buy, and when we walked in—" She stopped in the middle of the sentence, reaching up to pressed stiff fingers into her temple, the cloth wadded tightly in her fist.

  "You walked in...." Ryland motioned for Morgan to sit up and lean forward a little.

  "Look, my head's killing me. Maybe we should do this tomorrow." Jesse pushed harder on her temple.

  "Jesse, what happened when you walked in?"

  She put both hands to her temples and pressed in. “Uh, there were people there. Three people." She started to get up and Ryland put her hand on her arm.

  "Sit down, Jesse. Leaving is not an option. I know it hurts, but the more we work together, the less the memories will manifest themselves in the form of headaches. We have to work through them for now. Open your eyes and tell me what happened in the room."

  Jesse shook her head.

  "Open your eyes. It's very important for you to do what I tell you to do. You have to trust me. Open them."

  When Jesse opened her eyes, Morgan was surprised to see how bloodshot they'd become. She'd never seen anyone's eyes turn blood red so quickly. Jesse opened the doily, smoothing it out on her leg with long strokes of her hand.

  "One man handed Pete a wad of money. A lot of money. I remember Pete looking at me and apologizing. He said he had a huge debt and the money would keep him alive." She reached up a shaky hand and pushed her temple again. There was something important about Pete that brushed the edge of her memory, but she couldn't remember what it was. "Pete—" What was it?

  "What about Pete?"

  "I'm not sure…something important." She braced her elbows on her knees so she could push harder on her temples. All these questions were making her head hurt more than usual and she wanted them to stop.

  "Why did Pete have a debt? Was he a gambler?"

  "No! Look, I don't care about Pete! What the fuck does he have to do with anything?" Jesse glared at Ryland, barely able to keep from grabbing her to make her listen. "Who cares if he had a debt? Fuck him, and fuck you!" Jesse stood to leave and Ryland blocked her way.

  "Sit down. We're not done." Ryland returned Jesse's stare until she threw herself back into the couch and turned to face the wall.

  Ryland sat as well. "What you need to realize, Jesse, is it doesn't matter if you think the information I'm asking for is important. If I ask a question, there's a reason for it, and you need to answer.

  Now, why did Pete have a debt?"

  The pain in Jesse's head was almost unbearable. She tried to concentrate on what Ryland was saying. "Pete owed money, but

  —"

  Ryland let her think. It was difficult at first for patients to allow memories to come. Jesse would get better at it the more they worked, but right now, they needed to give her subconscious time to dredge up what it had so carefully buried. "When something comes to mind, I want you to say it. Don't try to analyze it, just let it come out."

  "He didn't gamble." Her eyebrows lowered as she remembered, "He'd started snorting cocaine. I remember I walked in on him a few weeks before we made that last buy."

  "What did he do when you walked in?"

  She shook her head. "He went crazy. He said if I ever told anyone, he'd kill me. I told him I'd get him help. We had to get him help."

  "What did he say to that?" Ryland guessed selling her out had been a convenient way for him to get rid of a nasty complication.

  Jesse groaned from the pain and put her head down onto her knees, "He said he'd think about it, but if I ratted on him, I'd be dead."

  Ryland nodded and moved on. "Why did the man give him the money?"

  "I don't know." She put her hand back to her temple and pushed so hard her knuckles went white.

  "You do know, and I have to know." Ryland motioned for Morgan to touch Jesse's knee. When she did, Jesse jumped and her eyes flew open, but it accomplished what Ryland had intended—

  Jesse was staring at Morgan's face. Ryland repeated. “So tell me why the man gave him the money."

  Jesse looked down, then up into Morgan's eyes. "For me. He wanted me."

  "Why?"

  "Someone put a hood over my head and tied a rope around my neck to hold it in place." Jesse put her head in her hands. "I think they drugged me, because when I woke up, I was somewhere else."

  She lowered her hands and started rubbing her right palm with her left thumb. She studied the lines, then flipped her hand over and rubbed the back. She did the same with her other hand, switching back and forth as though looking for something.

  Ryland watched Jesse's hands. "Where were you?"

  Jesse didn't answer.

  "What's wrong with your hands, Jesse?"

  Confusion. "Nothing...see?" She held out her hand to Ryland, who took it and turned it over the same way Jesse had. Jesse repeated, “There's nothing wrong with them." She pointed to the palm of her hand and put her index finger dead center in the middle. Slowly, she ran the finger down the palm, under her sleeve and stopped on her wrist. She turned her wrist over and put her thumb on the top.

  When Jesse looked up, Ryland knew something was wrong.

  The blood had drained from Jesse's face until the skin had become a pasty white, but it was the quick glimpse of terror that warned her what would happen next.

  Jesse bolted from the couch and raced out the front door, Ryland and Morgan seconds behind her. Instead of running toward the barn like Ryland expected, Jesse ran to the end of the porch, bent over the railing and threw up. Ryland and Morgan stood on either side, waiting for the retching to pass. When she stopped heaving, Jesse hung over the rail, gasping.

  "Talk to me, Jess. What happened?"

  Jesse began dry heaving and dropped down on all fours to stop her stomach from turning inside out. The cramping eased enough to allow her to put her head on her hands and rock forward.

  "Sit up and breathe normally. You'll be all right. We're right here with you. Sit up and breathe." Ryland pulled on Jesse's shoulder, and Morgan reached in to help. They pulled her back until she was seated on the floor, her legs bent in front of her, her head resting on her knees. Ryland said. “Close your eyes a minute and breathe normally."

  When Jesse closed her eyes, Ryland reached out and gently pushed back one of Jesse's sleeves. A round, white scar was centered perfectly in the middle of her wrist. Ryland turned the hand over and found a matching scar on the underside. She left the sleeve where it was and told Jesse to open her eyes. "When you woke up after you were kidnapped, what was the first thing you saw?"

  "It was black. I still h
ad the hood on." She just wanted to answer the questions so she could leave.

  "What do you see when they take off the hood?"

  "I don't think this is helping. We don't need to do this." Jesse started to get up, and Ryland stopped her.

  "What do you see when they take off the hood?” Jesse breathed deeply before answering. "I'm standing in a doorway looking out. I see a short hallway with some stairs at the end...going up." She shifted, ready to leave, and once more Ryland stopped her.

  Jesse shoved Ryland's hand off her shoulder. "Leave me the fuck alone!" She pushed to her knees. Morgan moved in and pulled her back down. Jesse grabbed her fingers, struggling to pry them off her arm. Morgan just tightened her grip.

  "Let go of my arm." The words came out low and guttural, a clear warning to Morgan to back off. She was ready to hurt anyone who stopped her from leaving, because she was leaving.

  Morgan swung her leg over Jesse's legs and straddled them, never taking her eyes off her. “You're not going anywhere until Ryland says we're done, period." Morgan had no clue whether she was doing the right thing, but if Ryland said she needed to stay, then she'd try to make her stay and hope for the best.

  Jesse growled and swung a fist at Morgan's face.

  Morgan blocked it with her forearm and grabbed that arm too.

  She pushed her down and pinned both arms to the porch. Jesse glared pure hatred at Morgan, and Ryland took advantage of the connection. “What happened next, Jesse? Tell me and you can leave."

  Jesse fought desperately to free her arms and legs, then abruptly stopped struggling and focused on Morgan's hand, which covered the wrist pinned closest to her face.

  Ryland said quickly. “Let go of that wrist."

  Morgan let go. Jesse closed her eyes and turned her head away. Ryland repeated. “Tell me what happened, and you can leave."

  “Get off me."

  Ryland nodded to Morgan who let go and moved off Jesse's legs. Jesse stood to lean over the railing again. Her knees buckled and she ended up squatting with her head leaning against the rails.

  "They—" She stopped and her hands curled around the railing.