by Toby Neal
“Why don’t you take some time to think about all of this, Sophie.” Ellie stood up, evidently reading Sophie’s expression. “You’re still sick, and that’s never the best time to think about major life decisions. Just know that your father and I are only a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Agent Smith.” Sophie drew a breath, let it out. “How is Ginger?”
“She’s fine. Rambunctious as ever. She does seem to mope a bit, missing you, but don’t worry. She is getting lots of love, and Jake comes by regularly to take her for walks with Tank.”
Jake. And Tank. She missed her partner.
Sophie smiled. The expression felt unfamiliar, a clenching of muscles she had forgotten how to use. “I am glad to hear they are spending time with Ginger. It eases my mind to know she is cared for.”
Sophie saw the two agents off the plane and went back to bed. She had just dimmed the lights when Connor appeared in the doorway. “You weren’t going to tell me what went down out there?”
“You watched and listened to the whole thing on surveillance,” Sophie said. “So there’s nothing to tell.” She tugged the silky comforter up around her shoulders and turned away, snuggling down to block out any light.
A beat went by.
“I’d like to know, in your own words, why we’ve just been visited by the Secret Service and the CIA.” Connor’s voice had gone frosty. In fact, ever since her comment to him at breakfast, his demeanor had shifted in a negative direction.
Sophie wanted to care but couldn’t. She closed her eyes, fighting the desire to burrow even deeper into the covers. How was she going to navigate this minefield, feeling as she did?
Connor’s voice softened. “Dr. Wilson is on her way. I sent a car for her.”
“I hope she can help me.”
“Sophie.” Connor sat down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, picked up one of her cold hands, and chafed it. His were hard and cool, with calluses across the fingertips and in the web of his thumb from playing his violin. “I’ve never seen you like this. Even when you were shot, and recovering from that, you weren’t like this.”
“Even when I grieved your death I wasn’t like this.” And just like that, Sophie fell asleep, dropping instantly into a well of darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dr. Wilson sat in the largest lounger in the living room area, leaving the loveseat for Sophie. “It’s not every day I get picked up by a limo and brought out to a private jet to do therapy. You said it was urgent. What’s going on besides hiding from gangsters?”
“I hardly know where to begin.” Sophie’s tongue felt heavy. Her whole body ached. She hunched forward, her face in her hands. A long silence stretched out.
“I appreciate being able to meet the fascinating Connor, aka Sheldon Hamilton. He’s quite good-looking, and such nice manners.”
“I told him he couldn’t watch this session.” Sophie pointed to a tiny recessed button in the ceiling. “He did not reply.” She took a small free-standing speaker out of her bag and synced it with her phone, playing a background of white noise. “In case he can’t resist.” She rubbed the scar on her cheekbone, unable to meet the psychologist’s eyes. “I should never have canceled our appointments.”
“That’s not all of it. Tell me what happened out there on the lava when you were alone. Connor told me you almost died.” Dr. Wilson’s eyes were very blue. Kind. Intelligent. Nonjudgmental.
“Let me tell you what happened first that sent me out there.” Sophie described the attack that had almost killed Alika, and their resulting intimacy.
“What about Jake?” Dr. Wilson’s slender blonde brows drew together as she echoed Marcella’s question.
“What about Jake?” Defensiveness shaded her voice. “Jake knows we are not a couple. He told me that we wouldn’t sleep together again unless I was willing to say we were exclusive. I refused. I owe him nothing.” That wasn’t strictly true, and she knew it.
Dr. Wilson’s lips tightened. “I think he will be upset, nonetheless.”
“I have bigger problems.” Sophie would have rolled her eyes if she could have found the energy for it—everyone seemed so concerned with Jake’s feelings! “I told Alika that I had been physically involved with Jake. Alika was the one who almost walked away from me. He was the one who had to make a choice to be with me. In spite of my…history.”
“As long as you are honest with all involved, and everyone is making informed decisions.” Dr. Wilson sat back, made a note on her pad. “At some point, that needs to include Jake.”
“Being honest was your advice and I have followed it. It has not been easy.” Sophie’s gaze drifted to Connor’s closed office door. Was he listening, watching? Probably. He was not going to like what he was hearing. “I left Alika early in the morning, cut off all communication, and went out to the WITSEC safe house. The depression got worse and worse out there. It became hard to function. Rayme was taken out by a shooter. I was shot at, too, and got a bunch of sizable splinters in my arm from a wooden railing. And so, I decided I was better off on my own with the leak in WITSEC still active. I assumed my Sandy Mason identity, handed Ginger off to Dad, and cut all ties. My plan was to hide out on a kipuka until the trial and recharge, maybe hike around some more out there off the grid, and undetectable. But what happened was…” Her voice trailed off.
“Another attack?” Dr. Wilson prompted.
“The depression attacked. First, I ran out of food…then water. I couldn’t find the motivation to get up and leave, or the strength to open my new burner phone, or anything. I lost the will to live.” Sophie looked down at her hands, ashamed. “Then I decided to…hasten the painful process of death by dehydration. I almost shot myself.” The words fell into a pool of silence. Ripples seemed to spread outward from them. Sophie shut her eyes.
“What stopped you?” Dr. Wilson asked softly.
“Thinking of the grief my suicide would cause.” Sophie looked up and met the psychologist’s eyes. “I managed to contact Connor for help. He has the resources to have found me. He rescued me with a medical team and brought me here yesterday. I’m recovering physically, but I can’t seem to shake off the depression. I need to stay alert and engaged through the trial, but I can’t bring myself to care about…anything.”
“Have you been taking your medication?”
“No.” Sophie shook her head. “I misplaced it.” Somewhere between the safe house and the kipuka, the bottle of little white pills had disappeared.
Dr. Wilson sighed. “You have a family history of depression, and a series of intense triggers have taken place. Your brain chemistry is severely impacted right now. I guessed that might be the case, so I brought along a medication people are calling “suicide first aid.” Dr. Wilson produced a small green bottle with an aerosol pump top. “It’s an anesthetic called ketamine that seems to perform a sort of chemical block to the worst of the depression. The effect is temporary, but temporary relief can give other interventions a chance to work.”
Sophie twisted her fingers together. The attempt to warm her hands only reminded her of the bones in her fingers. She kept mentally seeing her phalanges, as if all that was left of her was her skeleton. “I didn’t dare hope you had something that could help me,” Sophie said. “because talking about this is making me worse. I’ve hurt so many people and let them down.” She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt tears drip off her chin, landing on her skeleton hands.
“That’s the depression talking. Remember, the depression has a voice, a litany of accusations. Learn to recognize that voice and tune it out. But to facilitate that, this intervention is something you need right now.”
“What do we do?” Sophie asked simply.
“The infusion is in a nasal spray. You’ll do a couple of inhalations and then just lie back and rest. I’ll do a little relaxation and visualization hypnosis narrative. You’ll feel pleasantly relaxed, maybe a little sleepy. It takes about forty-five minutes for it to work.”
“Forty-five minutes for me to be cured? Why haven’t we done this sooner?” Sophie honestly wanted to know.
Dr. Wilson snorted a laugh. “You weren’t my patient, before. And this treatment isn’t FDA approved, so insurance won’t cover it. But I’m fairly sure you’ll feel some immediate relief from your symptoms. I’ll have you use the spray daily. We can schedule follow up treatment if it works, until your life can get stabilized and you’re able to make progress using more traditional methods.”
Accepting the medication bottle with its atomizer top, Sophie followed Dr. Wilson’s instructions, and inhaled several sprays of the medication, then reclined on the loveseat.
She immediately felt a tingly, pleasant sensation. She closed her eyes as Dr. Wilson began to speak. “Perhaps you’d like…to take a little time to just rest. Just letting go of all of your burdens. Breathing in relaxation, breathing out and releasing the tension, the stress, the fear, the despair. Breathing in peace, breathing out sadness. With every breath you take, you are completely and totally relaxing, enjoying, and surrendering to the process of healing that is beginning now.”
As the psychologist’s voice rose and fell in a gentle cadence, Sophie felt herself sinking deep into a quiet place within herself—but it wasn’t that gray zone where nothing mattered. This place was warm and lit with golden light. She was surrounded by love, supported and nurtured.
Reality faded into warmth. She floated away on the sound of Dr. Wilson’s voice.
“How are you feeling?”
“Different.” Sophie turned away from the small round window of the jet to face Dr. Wilson. After she’d had a restful nap, the psychologist had gently awakened her.
She did feel different.
That film that seemed to have separated her from the rest of the world had pulled back. She felt and heard the energy in her voice as she said, “Yes, I feel different.”
Not happy. Not even content. But also, no longer half alive. She was fully operational, and her ability to focus had returned.
“I think the treatment worked. I feel like I can function.”
“Good. The combination of hypnosis and ketamine infusion seems to be having a positive effect. I don’t usually do this, but since access to you is a security risk, I’m going to give you the medication and have you self-administer. Try two sprays a day for a week; do a third if the effect wanes. You can take it before bed, since it makes you sleepy. Once you are stabilized and your situation resolved, we’ll begin real therapy again.” Dr. Wilson gave Sophie a hug. The psychologist stood back and held her at arm’s length. “What one thing would make you feel better right now?”
“To see Alika again.” Sophie did not know where the words had come from—they seemed to have sprung up out of somewhere deep and escaped her censoring mouth. She covered it with her hand and shut her eyes, terrified. What had she just admitted?
“Well, that could be problematic given your current situation,” Dr. Wilson said, humor brightening her words. “What next thing would help?”
“To see Ginger.” Sophie’s eyes went misty at the thought of her dog.
“That’s more doable.” Dr. Wilson brushed imaginary lint off of Sophie’s shoulders, a petting, comforting gesture. “I spoke to Connor. He is taking you to Oahu to await the trial. But he has agreed to fly you back here for your treatment and therapy as needed.”
“That is most kind of him.”
Dr. Wilson laughed. “I doubt very much that kindness is all there is to it. But you should take him up on his offer to look out for you. Oahu would be a much better setting for you to recover in than a tent in the wilderness with no food or water.”
“It seems incredible that I went out there to evade Chang and almost ended up doing his work for him.”
“Depression is a cunning and baffling disease. But promise me this: you will not isolate. It’s bad for you right now.”
“I promise.” Sophie leaned into the psychologist’s supportive embrace, then walked her to the door of the plane. Dr. Wilson waved as she went down the steps and got into the limo. “See you soon!” she called, and Sophie waved back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Dr. Wilson is a remarkable woman.” Connor spoke at Sophie’s shoulder as she watched the limo carrying the psychologist pull away across the tarmac.
“That she is. She gave me a treatment. It seems to be working. I feel much better. Clearer.” Sophie turned to face him.
Connor was cool and dapper in his Hamilton persona, his eyes opaque, hidden by those glasses. “I’m glad. That’s what we need. Why don’t you have a bite to eat, and then we’ll take off for Oahu.”
“All right.” Sophie followed Connor over to a small fridge.
He opened it, revealing two large plates of mixed vegetables, meat, and rice. “I took the liberty of ordering Thai food.”
“Thank you.” Sophie accepted a wrapped plate. “I am grateful for all you are doing to help me.”
“Anything to support one of Security Solutions’ best operatives.” His emotional shutdown toward her was complete.
And that was good. She had told him not to hope she would change her mind about a relationship with him, and maybe he had gotten the message at last.
They ate at the dinette without speaking. Somehow, it felt comfortable in spite of all that lay between them. She had always liked that about being with Connor—hours could go by as they occupied the same space with no need for words.
She and Alika had shared that kind of restful presence with each other. Such a contrast to Jake, who wanted to know everything. Jake, who believed secrets were lies and always wanted to talk more than Sophie did.
Well, not always. Sometimes he just held her—warming and healing her without words, with just his body.
Jake. She felt guilty just thinking his name.
She had done the right thing by ending her physical involvement with him. He couldn’t handle the secrets she had to carry and live with—secrets she’d never be able to share with him. He should be with someone with a less complicated life. She could imagine him with a nice white American woman and a house in the suburbs, Tank frolicking on the lawn.
Alika seemed able to allow Sophie to have a secret life, and not be threatened by it.
But she could not endanger him…
The black wingtips of hopelessness flickered at the edge of her vision, dragging at her thoughts. She would not give in. She was getting better! She had to be.
They stowed the disposable dishes and strapped into their seats. Sophie picked up a tablet and scrolled through the news as Connor greeted the pilots and discussed their plans up near the cockpit. He came back and settled himself beside Sophie in a lounger. He flipped a button on the console of his chair, speaking into an intercom. “We are ready for takeoff back here.”
Sophie stared out the window at the palms swaying in a slight breeze, the ocean shrouded in the distance by the soft veil of Kilauea’s volcanic emissions.
She wasn’t going to get far keeping secrets from Connor. Secrets were his currency, his language, and she needed to know what he knew about the Yām Khûmkạn before going any further with the CIA and her mother. He had never answered the question she had sent him on the Ghost software’s chat function.
Sophie decided to take the plunge. “What do you know about the Yām Khûmkạn?”
Connor’s eyes widened slightly, the only indication he gave of any surprise. “Why do you ask?”
Sophie smiled, a humorless tightening of her lips. “I asked you first.”
The jet’s engines engaged, and the nimble craft moved out onto the runway. Connor did not answer as they were pressed back into their seats by the roar of acceleration.
Sophie waited until they were airborne to ask the question again. “What do you know about the Yām Khûmkạn?”
“You opened this can of worms. I have something I want you to see.” Connor rose from his seat and strode to the front of the plane in spit
e of their angle of ascension. He tapped on the pilot’s door and disappeared. A few minutes later he returned to his seat. “Do you need anything? Hungry, thirsty?”
“No. I just want you to answer my question.”
Connor sighed. “I am aware of the Yām. Sometimes our paths cross.”
“Are they an organization that the Ghost has had dealings with?”
He sat down and glanced at Sophie. She still hated that his sea-blue eyes were hidden behind those brown contacts. “Sometimes they have been problematic. Sometimes they have been of service.”
“Of service to whom?”
“Of service to the Ghost. Sometimes our interests align. Other times, they do not. Right now, they do not.”
A terrible suspicion tightened Sophie’s chest. Was Connor the source of the threat against the Thai royal family, and the reason her mother had been forced to seek her out? “Tell me more.”
“Why should I?” His face was expressionless. “You have amply demonstrated your attitude about me. And my activities.”
“I have also demonstrated a healthy respect for those activities, and an acknowledgment of their utility by asking for your help on cases that cannot be solved in the usual way, including the WITSEC leak.”
Connor did not reply. He looked out the window.
The plane leveled off. Sophie unbuckled and got up, heading to the little kitchenette. She opened one of the cupboards. Her favorite, hard-to-find brand of tea had been stocked, and though she was not surprised, it gave her a little sting anyway. She filled an electric teakettle and turned back to face Connor.
He was working on a touchscreen tablet, his head bent, his fingers flying.
“Would you like some tea?” Sophie felt another pang, realizing that it was the first time she had offered him anything, tried to do anything for him. She owed him so much.
