by Margaret Kay
She heard Cooper laugh. “I’ve heard getting through them is grueling.”
“You’ve never had to?”
He laughed again. “Darlin’, I helped write them. I’ll let you get back to work. It’s on your calendar, but don’t forget your ten-thirty with Doctor Lassiter. His office door is in the public hallway on four. Come to my office when you’re done with him.”
“Will do.”
Indigo
Madison took the public staircase down to the fourth floor. She hesitated in front of the door lettered J. Lassiter. Glancing at her watch she took a deep breath. She was right on time. A shrink. He was the last person she wanted to meet with. She didn’t want to talk about her family or how it had affected them when she had been missing in Iraq. Nor did she want to talk about how she had handled any of it or how she had felt about it, but she knew he would expect her to talk about it.
Before she could even reach for the door, it opened. Yvette stepped out. “Oh, hi, Madison,” she said with a forced smile.
Madison felt as though she had invaded Yvette’s privacy just by seeing her exit the shrink’s office. “Hi.” Keep it brief, ask nothing, she thought.
“Your first session with Lassiter?”
“Yes.”
“It’s open, go on in. He’s a good guy, here for us. Some of the guys dread when they’re working with him because it means they are being evaluated for fitness for duty. Once they get it through their heads that working with him rather than against him will keep them on duty, they usually get on board and stop resisting him. You’ll see.” Yvette gave her a more natural smile and then stepped away. She disappeared behind the stairwell door.
Madison took another deep breath and then pulled the door open. She was surprised to find herself standing in a small outer office. For some reason she thought she’d step right into his office and find a desk, couch, and a comfortable, overstuffed chair. She chuckled to herself. Of course, he’d have a normal doctor’s office front. A sign on the door across the room, which she assumed led to the inner office read, ‘Please be seated, Joe will be with you shortly.’
The inner door opened, startling her. “You must be Madison,” a man greeted. What she noticed right away were the large scars on his face and neck.
She pulled her eyes up to his pale blues and forced a smile as she crossed the room, right hand extended. “Hello. I am.”
“Joe Lassiter,” he introduced himself.
He shook her hand and then swung the door wide and motioned her inside. After she entered, he closed the door and hit a doorbell-like button on the wall beside it. A light above the door illuminated and remained on.
“Door lock,” he said.
He turned and walked past the small kitchen to the second door on the left. She detected a limp in his gate. She followed him in, not knowing what to expect. He closed the door behind her and dropped himself into his desk chair.
Madison noted that the entire room was distinctly masculine, large black furniture, no throw pillows on the couch. There were black and white prints of aircraft, naval ships, and tanks in black frames that were mounted on stark white walls.
He pointed to the sofa.
She sat poised on the edge and forced a nervous smile.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. This will be very informal. Shepherd always has me meet with new hires, so we form a relationship before an official referral for treatment.” He paused watching her closely for several quiet moments. “So, how do you like working for Shepherd Security so far?”
“It’s good. Everyone seems dedicated, knowledgeable, and competent.”
Lassiter’s lips curved into a smile. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to say they’re a bunch of stupid fuck-ups who don’t know their shit.” Then he laughed.
Madison chuckled too. “No, I suppose not.”
“But if you had, I guess that would have given us a lot to talk about.”
Madison just smiled, unsure what to reply to that. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. He wasn’t what she’d expected. He was former military, she was sure. He was probably injured in combat, she surmised by the limp and facial scars. But he had a laid-back manner, very non-military that matched his longish dark, blonde hair, polo shirt, and blue jeans.
“Why did you take this job? You were a happy civilian for two years.”
Madison chuckled again. “Good question. I still don’t know why I did, myself.” Lassiter stared expectantly at her for a few seconds in silence. She knew he wasn’t going to let her get off with that answer. “I guess to make a difference. After the interview with them I couldn’t stop thinking about things I hadn’t thought about in those two years. And John Cooper was convincing. Shepherd should have him do all the recruiting.”
“You were thinking about taking the job before Cooper came to see you.” He said it as fact.
“Yes, I was. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.” She tried to laugh it off.
“You said you were thinking about things since the interview that you hadn’t thought about since you separated. What kinds of things?” He watched her closely instantly knowing that it dawned on her that she had said too much and opened the door to the question. She’d try to close back up. They always did.
Wow, he didn’t waste any time, did he? “What I know is going on out there and what kind of skills are needed to go up against it.”
“And those are skills you have.”
She nodded.
When she didn’t elaborate or say anymore, Lassiter continued. “You have to be the best to even be considered by Shepherd.”
Madison wondered if that extended to Joe Lassiter. She suspected it did. “From what I’ve seen, yes. Everyone I’ve met seems to be the best at what they do.”
“They are, trust me on that.”
She again smiled and nodded, unsure what to say, and definitely not keen on the idea of saying too much. She judged this guy to be smart, and she didn’t want him inside her head.
“So, I’m supposed to talk with you about Operation Sandstorm,” he said casually, watching her intently. At the mere mention of that operation she noticeably tensed. He had of course, read the mission file.
“Are you?” Madison tried to hide as best she could the panic that invaded her at the mention of Operation Sandstorm. No, she would not be telling this shrink anything about that.
“Yes. Anything there to talk about?”
“No, not really,” she quickly said.
“Okay, good,” he said dismissively. “I’m also supposed to ask why you had a hard time designating your beneficiary on the life insurance policy.”
“No story there, either,” she lied.
“That was easy,” he said. “So, this is how it’ll work. During your six months’ probation, you will meet with me every two weeks, unless either one of us decides something more frequent is needed or if you’re in the field when your session falls. If that’s the case, you’ll meet with me when the case is over. Actually, everyone meets with me after every case concludes. That’s protocol and job security for me.” He paused and flashed her a smile. “I have to somehow earn the good paycheck Shepherd pays me.” He chuckled a little. “That’s a minimum of twelve, one-hour sessions over the next six months. The reason we do this is so that we have a solid relationship and know what to expect from each other before any actual treatment is needed, if ever.”
Madison nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”
“I have complete mental health oversight over the team, just as Doc has the same with the medical.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what that means.”
“If either one of us deem any team member unfit for duty, for any reason, that person is immediately pulled, no questions asked. It’s protocol.”
“Good to know.”
“So, we have a full hour we have to meet today. Unless you have anything burning to discuss with me, I’d like to grab a cup of coffee. Would you like one?” He came to his feet
.
“No, nothing burning,” she assured him. She too stood. “And yes, thank you, a cup of coffee sounds good.”
She followed him into the kitchen. He filled the reservoir on the Keurig coffee maker and pointed to the large selection of K-Cups. “Coffee mugs are in that cabinet,” he said pointing above the counter where the K-Cups were arranged in a multitiered rack.
She opened the cabinet to find its shelves stacked full of coffee mugs of various sizes, colors and designs. She was pretty sure this was a psychological test. What insights about her would he glean from her choice?
“Same day rules apply,” he said with a chuckle. “Overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“I just don’t want to take a mug that belongs to someone else,” she said, trying to cover her delay choosing one.
“They’re all mine, but each member of the team does have their favorite. The Go Army mug, Shepherd likes to use and of course the Navy mug is Lambchop’s favorite.”
Madison remembered that Lambchop had been involved in the operation she witnessed on the monitor in Ops her first day. She also remembered someone saying he had been a Navy SEAL. She lifted the dainty looking tall, slender mug made of bone china from the shelf. It was adorned in pink and blue flowers with a gold ring along the rim. “Angel’s?”
Lassiter smiled and nodded. “You seem to have already figured out your female teammates. Neither Michaela nor Yvette would go with anything blatantly feminine, even in here.”
Madison replaced it on the shelf and opted for a dark blue mug with a sailboat on it intertwined in letters that spelled, Aruba. Lassiter motioned her to the table as he made both cups. She stared out the window at the mall. He sat her cup in front of her and then took a seat across from her. He glanced over his shoulder and out the window.
“I like the view from here.” He pointed to the planes stacked up on final approach to O’Hare International Airport. “When the team is due back, I often watch for them. Ops usually lets me know their scheduled arrival.”
Madison sipped her coffee to avoid having to comment. Lassiter waited her out. “How soon after a team arrives back do you meet with them?” She finally asked.
“It depends on what went down on the Op. If it was all business as usual, the next day or day after that, just to rubberstamp their continued fitness for duty. If anything went south, the same day. When Shepherd was shot, I was summoned and reported to the hospital where he and Angel were. I had discussions with everyone involved immediately.”
Madison nodded again. She had a lot of questions regarding the mission when Shepherd was shot but asked nothing. “What should I expect to happen at one of those post-mission sessions? Is it a kind of debrief?”
“You could say that. It’s different with each person and each Op. That’s why I get to know each of you before any shit goes down.”
Madison nodded again. She felt like a damned bobble-head. Then she recalled Yvette’s words regarding working with, rather than against Lassiter. She took a deep breath and then opened the door to her past. “My parents could have used you when Sandstorm went south. I promised my mother I would never put myself in danger again, which is a promise I’m breaking. They of course don’t know that I accepted this job. That’s why I had a hard time with the beneficiary designee on the life insurance form.”
“You were out of touch and in hiding for five days.”
She scrubbed her hand down her face. “I thought I had dealt with all of this.”
“You probably have, doesn’t mean it should be easy to talk about it. You saw people you worked with die when the outpost was attacked.”
“They were friends. I didn’t just work with them. It was supposed to be safe or in the very least, low risk. I believed in our mission there, thought we could make a difference.”
She went silent again and sipped her coffee while gazing out the window.
“Do you still feel that way?”
“I’m not sure we really made any difference at all over there, just for those who didn’t come back and their families.”
“And for your family?” Lassiter asked.
“Yes.”
“Would you feel better about taking this job if you could tell your parents?”
“My parents were notified I was missing during Sandstorm. I can’t even imagine what they went through. My mom told me later that she feared the worse immediately. I felt bad she went through that. I’m not sure how I could tell them about this, even if I would be granted permission to do so. The thing is, my parents have no idea what’s going on out there. If I was just going to be in the Ops Center, that would be one thing, but I’m going to be in the field. That’s a whole different ball game.”
Now Lassiter nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“So, no, I wouldn’t want them to know what I was doing and cause them stress and worry because of it.”
“If anything ever happens to you, I promise I will personally meet with your parents. Any news they get, will be from me.” Lassiter’s voice was soft. It conveyed trustworthiness and confidence.
Madison’s eyes snapped back to his. “Thank you.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about her family life with her mom, her dad and sister. He asked specific questions about her childhood, laughed with her over crazy memories of pranks played on each other and listened to her memories of fun family vacations. She’d had a family that many others only dreamt of having.
“Why did you join the Army to begin with, Madison?” Lassiter asked glancing at his watch. They only had ten minutes left.
“My parents were comfortable, but not rich by any means. When I went away to college it was financed partially by financial aid, scholarships, and grants. I was a good student in high school, earned straight A’s while taking AP classes and holding down a part-time job and playing three varsity sports. I knew I wanted to get my master’s degree right away on top of my bachelor’s. Early into my freshman year I discovered the Army ROTC. A guy I’d met was involved in it and after checking into it I knew it was something I wanted to join. I loved political science and an intelligence analyst was one of the things I could do with that degree. I minored in international studies after I’d decided that was what I wanted to do. The military seemed like a good place to get training and experience as an analyst. I also added several foreign languages, which I studied long after I was on active duty.”
“So, was the FBI or CIA your destination after the Army?”
Her mood changed with that question. She looked out the window again. “That was the original plan, but after I got settled in, I thought I would make a career out of the Army. I advanced quickly and really loved that I was doing something important.”
“But that changed after Sandstorm?”
“You know, watching a drone strike from Ops, or ordering in an airstrike to take out the enemy that is closing in on your troops, well, you know you’re killing people, but you don’t see their eyes when you do it. It’s different when you’re there. When the outpost got hit that changed everything for me. My girlfriend, Kristy, another one of the analysts was shot as she tried to run for cover. Her eyes locked onto mine when she hit the ground and I watched the red blood stain soak her clothes and pool on the floor.”
Lassiter waited as she went silent again. “But a good intelligence analyst could help prevent that from happening to anyone else,” he said after a full minute passed.
“Yes, and not recognizing a threat will cause that to happen all over again to someone else.”
“So why sign up for this now?”
“I told you, I’m not sure. I thought about the people I served with, the job we did. When I was in for my interview, Shepherd and the other guys reminded me what kind of shit is going on out there and that someone with the skills I have can make a difference. I guess enough time had passed that I was able to remember more of the good things about doing the job and remember the mission, which isn’t done, will probably never be done. But if those
of us who can, don’t, they’ll win, and we’ll all be in a world of trouble then.”
Lassiter nodded. “If you want my professional opinion, I think you’re doing this for all the right reasons. You said earlier that you thought you had dealt with all this before and I think you have, but if you ever want to talk more about any of it, my door is always open.”
“Thank you.”
“So, Cooper is your SO, huh?”
Madison knew what was coming next. Everyone at Shepherd Security so far had reacted the same way. She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Lassiter said and then laughed. “He’s good, knows his shit, but he’s a demanding perfectionist and follows the rules to a fault.”
