The Door at the Top of the Stairs (8 page)

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. What happens?"

"She'll continue to decompensate."

Morgan smiled. “Let's try the Psychology for Dummies explanation."

Ryland chuckled. “Okay. She won't be able to maintain the personal defense mechanisms she's built up. She'll become more and more angry. She might get into more and more fights, in which case she'll end up in jail—a lot. She’s basically a sane person who's been pushed into a psychological imbalance, and that imbalance will only get worse. The headaches will increase to an intolerable level, and she'll get rid of them in whatever way she can."

"You mean she'll put a gun to her head."

"Possibly."

"Great." Morgan rubbed her face, then let her hands drop into her lap. "I couldn't live with myself knowing I could have helped her and didn't because she was an inconvenience to my perfect way of life. So at least tell me what we're in for if we help her."

Ryland shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't know the extent of the abuse, so we're groping in the dark. She'll continue to have angry outbursts, that's a given. She'll continue to push you right to the edge, because she's reassuring herself that you're still in control. She'll start hating me, maybe even want to hurt me to get me out of her life."

"Whoa, stop right there.” Morgan sat up and glared at Ryland.

“Not gonna happen."

"You asked what
might
happen. I'm just giving you all the possibilities. We're dealing with panic, terror. Who knows what she'll do? I do know she doesn't
want
to hurt anyone—that's obvious to me—and I think if we can distract her if she starts to get violent, just enough to bring her back to the present, she'll stop. I never said this would be a walk in the park. It'll be hell for all three of us. And I guarantee, it won't take a week or a month for all this to start. It's already here and it will only get worse before it gets better."

Morgan reached over and turned Ryland's arm so she could read her watch. “Where is she anyway? It's already one-thirty. My vote is to do it, and if we're gonna do this, let's get it done so I can get back to work." She smiled at Ryland, who took her hand and walked with her to the door.

It never ceased to amaze Ryland how quickly Morgan came to decisions and how quickly she wanted to get things done once she’d decided to do something. She put her hand on the door before Morgan could open it. "Morgan, I'll tell you what I told her.

We have to see this to the end or we'll be doing more harm than good."

Morgan nodded and pulled open the door. “Let's go find our powder keg, shall we?" They walked to the barn together and found Jesse cleaning out one of the stalls. Morgan got right to the point. “Where have you been? You think we've got all day to just sit around and wait for you?"

"I'm done. I'm not coming anymore." Jesse walked out of the stall, grabbed some straw and carried it back to Barney's pen.

Ryland shot a glance at Morgan, then slowly followed Jesse down the aisle. "We've just begun, Kiddo. We’re not even close to done."

Jesse pushed past her on the way to get another armload of straw to spread on the stall floor. "I said I'm done. I know I was kidnapped. That's enough; I don't want to know anymore."

"Jess, you're not done, and if you remember when we began, I told you once we start there's no turning back. We've opened Pandora's box, and we need to close it one way or the other. If you don't work on it here, I'll have to call Sheriff Carlson and have you involuntarily committed to St. Andrew's hospital where I can work with you there."

Jesse stopped dead in her tracks.

Morgan took down the notebook and started leafing through the pages, watching the two of them out of the corner of her eye.

She concentrated on Ryland, trying to take her cue from her, not sure whether she was part of this battle. She reminded herself that her role was to allow Jesse to ground herself. Ryland's was playing God. She turned her attention to Jesse, whose face had gone beet red, her muscles taut.
Oh shit
, she thought as she slowly put down the notebook.
Here we go
.

Ryland had her in a trap. Red appeared in front of Jesse's eyes and her pulse pounded in her head harder and harder until she growled and lunged, intending to get her out of her life once and for all.

"Hey!" Morgan grabbed the back of Jesse's shirt and pulled her back. "What the hell do you think you’re doing? You think you can just throw that crap all over the barn and leave it like that?"

She roughly turned Jesse around and pointed to the mess strewn across the otherwise spotless barn floor.

Jesse blinked and focused on Morgan's face. She was surprised at what she'd just done and shifted her gaze to the straw on the floor.

"Don’t just stand there. Get the wheelbarrow and broom and clean that shit up. What's the matter with you?" Morgan pushed her toward the cleaning supplies and went back to the oat bins. She held Ryland's eyes a minute, needing to know Ryland was still sure about what she was doing. When Ryland nodded, Morgan said,

“This is going to take a while. You go on up to the house. We'll be up when we're done."

Ryland calmly walked out of the barn, heading for the house.

When she was out of earshot, she let out a shaky breath. “Why are we doing this, Morgan? What exactly have we gotten ourselves into?" The hardest part in dealing with repressed memories was that neither she nor Jesse knew exactly what had happened, so they were just groping in the dark. When she reached the house, she sat on the sofa and picked up the latest book she'd been studying.

This particular book dealt primarily with a patient releasing a traumatic memory and actually experiencing the pain of the torture during therapy. Ryland had a feeling Jesse's memories were buried so deep that once they surfaced the pain would be excruciating.

Other patients she'd treated had gone through similar experiences, and she wanted to brush up on techniques that would help Jesse remember what had caused the pain and relegate those memories to the past where they could do no further harm. She opened the book and leafed through it for the fifth time that day.

An hour later, Morgan and Jesse walked into the house. Jesse's face was set in an angry mask, and she refused to look at Ryland or even acknowledge she was in the room. Ryland sat in a chair facing the sofa. Morgan put her hand on Jesse's shoulder and pointed to where she wanted her to sit. Jesse sat on the sofa, still refusing to meet Ryland's eyes. Morgan made herself comfortable and forced herself to relax.

Ryland studied Jesse a second, taking in the crossed arms and the angry mask. "You know, you never did tell me yesterday why they paid money to kidnap you. What were you to them?"

Jesse shrugged. “I killed the man's younger brother. He tried to rip me on a drug deal. He pulled a gun on me and I shot him."

"Why just you? Why didn't they want Pete too?"

Jesse looked at Ryland as though the answer should have been obvious to her. She shook her head. "Pete wasn't there. He was in a different hotel room. He was one of the back-up officers."

"But if he was your partner, why wouldn't he have been in the room with you?" Ryland smiled at the comical expression on Jesse's face. Obviously she thought any fool would know why Pete hadn't been in the room. "You have to remember, Jess, I don't have a clue about how undercover officers work. Help me out here."

"Well—" Jesse looked around the room, trying to think of a way to explain. "You can't just walk into a drug deal and bring a friend along. They'd know you were a cop and know your friend was your back up. These guys are paranoid. They see two people, it's either a rip off or you’re a cop. Either way, they clam up."

Ryland nodded. "So, you killed his brother. How did he find out it was you?"

Jesse shrugged. "It was in all the papers. The media doesn't care if they blow your cover. All they care about is their story."

Ryland decided to move on since that particular memory didn't seem to bother Jesse at all. "Yesterday you remembered being nailed to the door post by your wrists. How long did they leave you there?" Ryland saw the tell-tale glance up and to the left.

At least Jesse was trying. They sat in silence, waiting.

Jesse flashed back, a quick picture of a dark hallway leading to stairs leading into the light.

Ryland was getting more adept at reading her and knew when she'd remembered something. "What are you seeing?"

"A dark hallway...and at the end of the hall, some stairs going up." Jesse quickly focused on Ryland, then immediately looked away. There was no way she was going to make a fool of herself again today. She'd answer questions and be done.

"Are you hanging in the doorway?"

"I'm standing."

"Where are your hands?"

Jesse looked at Ryland. “What?"

Ryland didn't answer, just raised her eyebrows. She watched as Jesse processed the question. When Jesse made eye contact with Morgan, Ryland was pleased Morgan mimicked her own response and simply raised her eyebrows. She'd never used a second person to help with therapy, but if she had, Morgan would have been the perfect partner; she was smart, quick, and tough, but more importantly, she was stubborn. More stubborn than Jesse, and luckily, Jesse believed in Morgan's strength.

Jesse held Morgan's eyes. “Are you sure you can do this?"

Ryland repeated her question. “Where are your hands, Jesse?"

She watched Jesse close her eyes and do the abbreviated head shake Ryland now knew meant memories were trying to push out and Jesse was trying to push them back in. "Open your eyes, Jess."

Jesse opened them and growled, “Leave me alone."

Ryland leaned forward. “Look at Morgan, and tell me where your hands are."

Morgan sat at the end of the couch, angled against the padded arm, facing Jesse. She put her elbow on the armrest and leaned her head on her fingers while she calmly let Jesse focus on her eyes.

Ryland had explained the need for a focal point, a place where Jesse could go to borrow strength she thought she didn't have, and Morgan concentrated on projecting her confidence onto Jesse.

"You know where they are... I—" She couldn't allow the picture to come, she wanted to see the picture in Morgan's eyes, not her own. She stole a quick look. There. A hammer struck and a spike slid through her wrist like butter, pinning her hand to the door post. Her eyes unfocused and she was back in the room. She'd been there a night, another day? How long? She couldn't breathe.

Her lungs filled with water instead of air as lightning bolts shot down her arms and constricted her heart.

Morgan looked at Ryland, who motioned for her to touch Jesse. She reached out and gently took Jesse's arm and squeezed.

Jesse eyes focused again and she struggled for air. “I can't breathe."

Ryland said again. “Tell me where your hands are."

Jesse looked down at the scars on her wrists, and said between breaths. “They're nailed to the posts."

"How long were you there?"

"A night, part of a day." She looked at Ryland, who nodded, and Jesse thought she saw approval, maybe a little. Maybe she'd done okay and they were done.

"Then what?"

Jesse's heart sank. “Goddamn you, I told you what you wanted and I'm done!"

"Then what happened?" Ryland watched Jesse squeeze her eyes shut, fighting to hold in the tears. She motioned for Morgan to gently tap her knee because she needed those flood gates opened.

Morgan did what Ryland asked, and Jesse opened her eyes.

Ryland repeated. “Then what happened?"

Jesse covered her eyes, ashamed as one by one tears began falling down her face. “I got down. My arms are down and everything is black."

"How did you get down?"

"He—"
He pounded the nail out from the other side. He
pounded and laughed then pulled
. Jesse stood as she watched the thin spikes slide through her wrists. Her stomach turned sour and she was afraid she'd be sick again. She reached up and pulled her hair, trying to stop the memories, trying to stop hearing Ryland.

"Sit down Jesse, and tell us what you see. You have to remember, then tell me what happened so we can put the memories in their proper place. That's why I keep asking you to describe what you're seeing. Each time you talk about what happened, your headaches will begin to be less painful, and eventually they'll go away completely."

What Ryland said made sense. She needed to stop the pain one way or the other. “He hit the nail out with a hammer, then...then jerked it out the rest of the way." She looked down on Ryland, wanting to be done. Ryland didn't move, and Jesse felt panic welling up from somewhere deep inside her chest.
What's she
waiting for
? The nausea increased and she ground her teeth to keep from throwing up.

Ryland sat patiently, knowing there was more, but unsure what direction to go in. She thought maybe she'd back off a little and then move on. “After you were down, then what?"

Jesse relaxed slightly and sat back on the couch, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Memories edged their way into her mind, slowly at first, then picking up speed. They weren’t clear and she was unsure how to bring them into focus. She sat in troubled silence, trying to see what was there.

Ryland watched her. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“They’re not clear. I see movement, but I don’t know what I’m seeing.” She pointed to her forehead, then looked to Ryland for help. “Here — you know, in my mind.” Ryland’s confident smile reassured her, made her feel Ryland knew what was happening even if she didn’t.

“Don’t worry, Jesse. That’s perfectly normal. The more we bring out the memories, the clearer they’ll become. For right now, instead of trying to see the memories, talk to me about whatever comes to mind—what the men are doing, the feelings that come up

—even if you don’t know why you’re feeling them.”

“I think they filled something…a long sock...with sand....

They hit me with it." The vise around her chest eased somewhat, allowing her to breathe and her stomach to settle as her mind opened and she began to remember.