The Door at the Top of the Stairs (6 page)

I came here for a job. I don't need you playing your psycho-bullshit games on me." She shifted forward on the couch, ready to get up and leave.

"The headaches are getting worse, aren't they? You wake up sweating in the middle of the night with your heart racing and you have no idea why or what you dreamed. There are times, like the other day, when you lose periods of your life. Sometimes you can't remember from one time to the next how you got somewhere. You
do
need our help, Jesse, because without it, you'll only get worse.

Can you honestly tell me I'm wrong?"

"You
are
wrong! You don't know what's happening, up
here
!"

She banged her head with her fist.

"Then
tell
me what's happening in your head. Tell me so I can understand and help you."

"You
can't
help me! You want to know what happens? You want to fuckin' know? ‘Cause you
can't
help!" Despair gripped her as she turned furious eyes on Morgan. “And you...you think you're strong enough? I'm strong, and
I
can't stop what happens!"

Ryland repeated, “Jess, tell us what's happening so we can understand.

Jesse seethed, furious that they thought they could even begin to understand. She shouted at them, frantic now that they should believe her—that they needed to leave her alone. “You want to know what happens? This is what happens! Sometimes my brain feels like it's a balloon filled tight with hundreds of stones and something is squeezing the balloon and it hurts,
bad
! I can't stop whatever's squeezing it, and I know if there's even a small rip in the balloon, my brain will explode! I mean
literally
explode! And you're going to rip it if you don't stop! You need to
stop
!" Her control slipped as she spoke and tears spilled down onto her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away, then had to shove her fingers back into her temples to stop the spasms constricting her brain.

Ryland slid over so she could put her hand on the back of Jesse's head. “Easy, Jesse...you're all right. Let me explain what's happening, and I promise, I can help you if you let me." She ran strong fingers up under Jesse's hair and massaged the top of her neck. When she felt the tension ease beneath her hand, she began speaking softly, her words calculated to soothe Jesse's fears. “The stones are memories, Jess. And we, you and I, are going to reach into the balloon and take out one stone at a time and examine it, deal with it, and put it away where it belongs. As we do, the pressure on the balloon will sometimes increase, and Morgan will help you keep the rest of the stones in until we're ready for them.

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."

"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.