The Door at the Top of the Stairs (15 page)

Morgan shifted in her saddle. “Come over here."

Jesse moved her horse closer to theirs.

"Where did you learn to ride?"

"I grew up riding horses on my family's farm."

"Where?"

Jesse had no intention of telling them where. She sat quietly and waited.

Morgan lowered her head. “I asked you a question."

Jesse smoothed her horse’s mane. “I'm not trying to get you mad. I just don't want to tell you where, that's all. That's my business, not yours."

Morgan sat a minute, then reined Somerset around and cantered away.

Ryland said. “She'll listen when you talk to her like that, Jesse.

It works a whole lot better than anger."

Jesse fidgeted with the reins. “Yes Ma'am."

"You'll get control of your anger again. Unfortunately, you can expect to become angrier before you start to get better. It's one of the by-products of what you're going through. Morgan knows that. It just takes her a little longer to remember it sometimes."

Ryland pulled Barney around and headed after Morgan. Aristotle pranced in circles, wanting to follow, but Jesse kept him in place until he settled. “I'll be damned if you're gonna start telling me what I can and can't do too, you ornery piece of horse flesh. Now settle." When he stopped fidgeting, she turned him in the direction the others had gone and made him walk slowly across the field.

Chapter Fifteen

At one, Morgan stood at the window and watched Jesse walk up the path to the house. The fall leaves covering the path were heavy with rain and the clouds blanketing the sky mirrored her mood. She was still upset by the confrontation that morning, and she wasn't ready to deal with whatever they were in for today. She sighed and walked over to the couch, mentally girding her loins for battle.

Jesse still knocked at the front door even though they'd told her to just come in when she was at the house. Ryland made her way from the kitchen to the door, wiping her hands on a towel as she welcomed Jesse inside.

Morgan smiled inwardly as Jesse walked into the living room.

She looks about as enthusiastic coming into this session as I am.

Jesse wouldn't meet Morgan's eyes, and she sat as far away from her on the couch as she could get.

Ryland took the armchair closest to Morgan. "I can see we need to talk about the morning's events." She waited patiently, hoping someone would break the ice. When neither did, she asked,

“So which of you wants to start?"

Morgan turned toward Jesse and put her arm on the back of the couch. “I think we said pretty much everything that needed to be said.” She looked at Jesse. “We understand each other perfectly, don't we?"

Jesse had her back to Morgan and didn't answer. Ryland waited to give her a chance to respond, though she was sure Jesse wouldn't say anything without being prompted.

"When we're here, Jess, you can say whatever you want to Morgan, as long as you're respectful. Just don't call her names and keep your profanity to yourself."

Jesse stood up and walked to the window. She leaned against the frame looking out at the trees, her arms crossed. There was something she wanted to say, and she was trying to figure out the best way to say it. "You can fire me if you want, but I won't quit."

Morgan relaxed back into the cushions. “You mean I'm stuck with you even if I do end up throwing you through the barn wall one of these days?"

Jesse pulled her arms into a tighter hold across her chest. "I don't know why I pushed you like I did. I just did, that's all."

Morgan recognized Jesse's version of an apology and the last vestige of her anger disappeared. "Yeah...well, get over here and let's get started so we can get back to work. The farm doesn't run itself, you know."

Jesse turned from the window and moved back over to the couch. Her customary scowl was firmly anchored in place, and she sat as far away from Morgan and Ryland as possible.

Once Jesse settled in, Ryland put her feet up on the coffee table. "All right, now that we're settled, today I want to talk about the man who kidnapped you. What can you tell us about him?"

"What do you want to know?"

"What does he look like, sound like? Nationality, demeanor, anything you can tell us.”

Jesse didn't need help remembering him. She'd recalled everything about him the first time Ryland had asked about the people in the hotel room. "His name was Richard Montenegro. He was a Mexican, about five foot eight, short, black hair, built like a long-distance runner, with skinny legs and no fat on his body. He had a scar that ran from the inside of his eyebrow up to his hairline. He went to some Ivy League school, but he never told me which one. He was well educated and well spoken, and he was insane."

"You talk about him in the past tense."

Jesse thought about that a second and shrugged.

Ryland didn't want to get ahead of herself, so she returned to the description. "What was his demeanor?"

"He was arrogant and condescending, and he had an absolute need to be in control of everything that happened."

"That's why he wouldn't let you react to the rats. He even controlled the way you moved when they bit you."

Jesse nodded.

"Tell me about the cattle prod. He controlled how you reacted to that too, didn't he?"

Jesse looked confused. “What are you talking about?"

"When Jake Tate shocked you with the cattle prod, you didn't react. My guess is you were conditioned not to react."

She shook her head apologetically. "I don't remember him using one."

"That's okay. Let's go back into the room. How did he take the nails from your wrists the second time?"

Jesse closed her eyes and watched the scene play out in her head. "He had two of his men pick up the board and ram it into the floor until the nails pushed back...then he pulled them out." She rubbed the scar on the back of her wrist. "I couldn't move my hands after that. They're still mostly numb. I guess that's why sometimes I can't close them all the way or move certain fingers like I used to be able to."

Morgan wondered why Jesse wasn't reacting the way she normally did when she described what happened to her. She seemed calm, as though she were describing her day at work.

Ryland held her hand out. “Let me see."

Jesse extended her arm, and Ryland pushed up the sleeve covering the scar and rubbed the white circle with her thumb.

"Actually, I'm amazed you can use them at all." She let the hand drop. "So tell me about the cattle prod."

Jesse pulled her sleeve down over her wrist. “I wish I could help you, but I don't remember a cattle prod."

"All right then, what would you like to talk about?"

"Nothing. No headache, I'm not sick to my stomach, I can breathe. I don't want to talk about anything."

Ryland raised her eyebrows, reached between the seat cushion and the arm of the chair she was sitting in and pulled out Morgan's hunting whip. Jesse stiffened as though electrocuted, then went unconscious.

Morgan lowered her head and stared at Ryland, unsure whether she should laugh or be horrified. "Well, I wondered how you were going to get her in the mood. I guess that answers that."

Ryland got up to put the whip back in the hall closet where it was normally kept. "I think we've gone through the memories that were fairly easy to dig up. The others are buried so deep that even her subconscious is having a hard time finding them." She brought her hand out of her pocket and tossed Morgan a capsule of smelling salts.

Morgan turned it over in her fingers while she thought about what had just happened. “This psychology stuff is way beyond me.

Give me a knot-headed horse or hound any day of the week." She broke the capsule and held it under Jesse's nose.

Jesse opened her eyes and saw Morgan holding another obscene-smelling capsule under her nose. She grabbed Morgan's hand, pushed it away, and mumbled, “Would you stop holding that shit up to my nose?" She pushed her fingers against her temple.

Ryland held out a glass of water. “Here, Jesse, drink something."

Jesse took a drink, then set the glass on the coffee table. "I'd be fine if she'd just stop with that shit."

"Why do you think she's using it?"

"It's smelling salts, like we used on drunks to wake them up."

Ryland wanted to know whether Jesse remembered the whip this time. "So why is she using it on you?"

"How should I know?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"My heart stopped."
No, that isn’t right
.

That was a new one for Ryland. “Can you explain that to me?

What do you mean your heart stopped?"

"That's not what I meant...I don't think...it's just what popped into my head. I don't think I'm saying it right."

"Did you remember something that made you say it, or did you feel something physically that made you say it?"

"My heart jerked, kind of...or jumped or something."

"Do you know what made it do that?"

Jesse looked left, trying to remember. She shook her head.

"Everything was fine, and then…" She looked left again, then up, her eyebrows pulled down in concentration.

"And then?"

"Like a short circuit. You know—zap, then nothing." Jesse reached up and rubbed her temple again. "My head's starting to pound, but I don't remember anything." She turned sideways and leaned back into the couch, pushing her head into the pillows with her hand. "How can you stop the headache if I don't remember?"

"You are remembering. This short circuit, have you ever felt that before?"

Jesse nodded, sweat beading on her forehead. “At the barn."

Ryland and Morgan exchanged glances. "How about before that? I want you to mentally put yourself in the dirt room. Do you remember anything related to the feeling of your heart stopping?"

Jesse did as she was told. Instantly the pounding punched against the inside of her head hard enough to momentarily blind her. She crashed to the floor, writhing in agony, pushing her head into the tile with both hands trying to keep the pounding from cracking her skull and splitting it wide open. She had to stop the pain. She slammed her head into the floor, needing to disrupt the steady pulsing of the hammer slamming down on her brain.

Morgan followed her down, shoving one hand between the tile and Jesse's head and grabbing her shoulder with the other. She pulled her tight into her own chest and pinned her there with both arms wrapped tightly around her body.

Jesse screamed and Ryland put her hands on either side of Jesse's head. She spoke calmly, but loud enough for it to register.

“Jesse, you're not in the dirt room. You're here with Morgan and me. You're not there. Listen to me. Who am I? Tell me who I am."

Jesse could barely hear over the roaring in her brain. "I don't know! Please, make it stop! I don't know!" Tears streamed down as she writhed against Morgan's embrace.

Ryland repeated what she'd just told her. “You're with Morgan and Ryland. Who am I?"

Jesse screamed, “Ryland!"

"You are in our house on the farm. Where are you?"

The pain eased just a fraction and Jesse grabbed onto Ryland's voice. "I'm with—"
What was the question?
The pain returned stronger than before.

"You are in our house on the farm. Where are you?"

“The farm! I'm with you on the farm!" The hammering slowed with each word, and Jesse repeated desperately, “The farm...I'm with Morgan and Ryland on the farm!" She became conscious of Morgan's arms around her and she grabbed onto them as the pain steadily eased back.

Morgan didn't realize how tightly she'd been holding her until her hands began to cramp. She loosened her hold, keeping her arms protectively around Jesse's body.

Ryland continued to talk very close to Jesse's ear. "You're with us in our home. We're going to sit here for as long as you need us to. Now, I want you to feel my hands on your shoulders, and where you feel my hands, I want you to relax those specific muscles."

After a few moments, Ryland felt Jesse's shoulders loosen under her hands. She gradually worked her way down Jesse's arms and back until she was quiet and relaxed.

Jesse concentrated on Ryland's hands and forced each muscle to relax. Her lungs jumped with a quick, involuntary breath, and she sagged into Morgan, totally and absolutely exhausted. She closed her eyes and fell into a bone-weary sleep.

Ryland exhaled slowly. "Let's get her into the guest bed. I don't want to leave her down at the barn alone the rest of the afternoon."

Morgan lifted Jesse and carried her into the guest bedroom.

Ryland pulled down the covers and Morgan slid her onto the bed.

Jesse rolled over and Ryland covered her with a patchwork quilt, then motioned for Morgan to follow her and quietly left the room.

Ryland leaned up against the wall in the hallway. “Good, at least some of the deep memory is trying to force its way out."

"Good? That was good?" Morgan made her way to the kitchen and took a cold beer from the refrigerator. She pulled a barstool from under the counter and sat. Ryland came in and Morgan said,

“That was
not
good."

Ryland moved behind Morgan and began massaging her shoulders, using her thumbs to work out the knots she always had when she was under a lot of stress. Morgan put her arms on the counter and rested her head on them, concentrating on relaxing the muscles so Ryland could work the stiffness out.

"You did fine, you know. You did exactly what she needed."

Ryland found one particularly stubborn knot and pushed down hard.

Morgan slowly moved away from the thumb, groaning because Ryland was determined to break the knot. “All I did was keep her from banging her head into the floor and—Ow, Ry! That hurts!"

Ryland kept digging. “Sit still, you big baby. You'll be impossible to live with until I get your shoulders relaxed. And no, you did a lot more than that. She physically felt you, and she was able to focus on the physical sensation and bring herself around.

Tomorrow, we'll break movements down into tiny steps so she can process them a little at a time." She finished with the last knot and put her head next to Morgan's. “Trust me, Morgan...I do know what I'm doing."