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."
Morgan sat up. “I know, but I'm usually the one who's in control, and this ride is terrifying me."
Ryland playfully bit Morgan's ear. “I've never heard you admit that before."
Morgan swiveled around so she could put her arms around Ryland and rest her head on her chest. “Don't you dare tell her I said that."
"I wouldn't think of it."
At six-thirty, Jesse found Ryland in the kitchen washing dishes. She sat on one of the barstools and watched her a minute.
“Where's Morgan?"
"She's down doing the evening feeding. How are you feeling?"
"Like an idiot."
Ryland looked over her shoulder. “Only to yourself. I expected your headaches to get worse when we started digging.
Tomorrow we'll take it one step at a time so that doesn't happen again."
"I want to do it right now. I want to remember everything and get it over with. Right now."
The sink was full of soapy dishwater, and Ryland reached down and pulled the stopper. She rinsed her hands and went to the refrigerator. “Are you hungry? We had chicken and stuffing for dinner. I can put some in the microwave for you."
Jesse raised her voice. “Now, Ryland—just do it! I don't care if it kills me. I just want it done and over with. Tell me what I need to do!"
Ryland walked over and leaned on the counter. "And if we don't do it right now?"
"Then I'll do it myself."
Ryland stepped around the counter and pulled out another barstool. She sat next to Jesse and leaned on her elbow, her head on her hand. The two women looked at each other, one angry and determined, the other quiet and listening.
"Why can't we just do it all at once? Fuck this daily drama! I hate it!" Jesse punched the countertop with her fist hard enough to make the salt and pepper shakers jump. When Ryland didn't move, Jesse angrily pushed away from the bar and walked over to a free-standing tower of shelves holding several sizes and varieties of pots and pans. She pushed the tower over and sent the pans crashing onto the tile floor. "Now, Ryland! Goddamn it, tell me how to finish it! Now! "
Ryland swiveled her barstool around to face Jesse. When she didn't say anything, Jesse pounded two fists on the countertop right in front her face. “Answer me, goddamn it!"
"That's enough, Jesse." Morgan came into the kitchen. She calmly walked across the room, stood between the two women and said quietly, “C'mon, I'll help you pick up the pans."
Jesse ignored her. “Ryland, please."
Ryland pushed Morgan aside so she could see. “We do it my way, Jess. There's no other way to do it. I can't stop you from trying something on your own, and I'll be here to pick up the pieces if you do. You'll be staying up here tonight in the guest bedroom."
Morgan stood the tower upright and placed it back in the corner where it belonged. She started picking up the pans and placing them on the shelves. Ryland reached down and picked up a saucepan that had fallen close to her stool. She held it out to Jesse who ignored it and walked out of the room. They heard the front door open and slam as Morgan put another pan into place.
Ryland took a dishtowel and wiped the pan she was holding.
“Are you okay?" She handed Morgan the pan and bent to pick up another.
Morgan put it back on the shelf, but didn't say anything.
Ryland handed her the next one. “I'm just curious. Is there some reason you didn't react like you normally do?" Ryland picked up a saucepan and put it on the shelf with the others.
"Yes."
"Do you want to share?"
Morgan glared at her. “I came into the house just as the pans went flying, and when I walked into the kitchen and saw her pound the countertop next to you I was afraid if I let my emotions go, I might have killed her. I mean literally killed her!"
"She wouldn't have hurt me. You know that, right?"
Morgan shook her head as she walked out of the kitchen. “I don't know anything right now. I'll be out in the back yard getting some wood for the fire."
Chapter Sixteen
Jesse walked into her apartment and threw herself onto the bed. Thoughts raced through her mind until the walls began closing in. The horses were making more noise than usual so she went out to check on them. Morgan had already fed everyone and doctored Comstock, so there was nothing left for her to do. She figured she was off work, and for some reason she was craving a beer and a good fight. She grabbed her apartment keys, headed out to the road and stuck out her thumb, hoping for a ride.
The truck driver who picked her up dropped her about a mile from the center of town because he needed to gas up at the local truck stop. She walked the rest of the way, thoughts tumbling through her brain like a clothes dryer on maximum spin. After about forty minutes she walked into Harley's and sat at the same table she'd been at t
he last time she'd come in. Andy came over and wiped his wet hands on his dirty white shirt. "What'll ya have?"
"Beer and a whiskey chaser, and just keep 'em comin'. In fact, just leave the goddamn whiskey on the table."
Andy crossed his arms. “Need to see yer money first."
Jesse reached into her pocket, pulled out two fifties and threw them on the table. "Let me know when that runs out."
The crumpled bills landed on the edge of the tabletop. Andy scooped them up and left to get the drinks. There weren't many people in the bar. Jesse sat back and watched a man and a woman light up a joint. The woman was about twenty with hair spiked straight out from her head. The man, a forty-something hippie wanna-be, held the joint up and made her climb on his lap before he’d let her take a drag. Jesse lost interest when the girl started an awkward lap dance and the man's eyes rolled back in his head.
Andy set the drinks on the table. In five minutes the beer bottle was three-quarters empty and the Jack Daniels had a good sized dent in it. For the next several hours, she watched people come and go, her thoughts slowing to a gentle whir instead of the dizzying cyclone she'd had before she came in. The whiskey bottle lay empty, and beer bottles littered the table and floor around her feet. Her vision had blurred hours ago and she'd lost interest in trying to re-focus. Shadows moved across the table, several shapes circling in a dizzying pattern.
One blur reached in and grabbed a half-empty bottle off the table. “Well, well, if it ain't Baby Dyke! What's the matter, Baby Dyke? Your mamas wanted to fuck without you tonight?" Cody put the bottle to his lips and finished it off, then threw the empty into Jesse's chest.
There wasn't much rational thought left in her alcohol-soaked brain. As she tried to stand, she forgot where she was going and what she’d planned to do when she got there. The ground rippled beneath her feet. The room spun in circles, dumped her onto the table, then onto the floor with the table resting on top of her.
As she struggled to move, someone jumped on her to the laughter of the other people in the bar. Andy shouted something and Jesse felt herself being unceremoniously dragged to her feet and thrown out onto the street. In the far-off recesses of her mind, a man yelled "Dropkick!" and slammed his boot into her stomach.
The Door at the Top of the Stairs Page 12
