A knowing smile spread across his face when a gentle knock sounded, right on cue. “Come in.”
A familiar halo of red hair pushed through the space as the door opened, Ellie’s face appearing while most of her body remained in the hallway. “Are you free?”
Powell laughed. “You can come all the way in. And yes, I’m free to speak with you.” He clicked the mouse to close the email, turned off the monitor, and gave her his full attention. “How have you been?”
Her hand was still on the doorknob, ready to retreat for the slightest reason. Never fully committed to the process. Always wanting to be anywhere but on his couch. As strong as she was, the vulnerability of being his patient was too much for Ellie, and at times, Powell found himself in awe that she managed to find her way there at all.
Her footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet as she took a wary step forward, the doorknob finally sliding out of her grasp. He motioned to the couch and stood, gathering his notepad and pen so he could sit across from her.
She pursed her lips, face paling as she regarded the empty sofa. “I didn’t think I would be here again so soon.”
“Why are you here, Detective Kline?”
Her head snapped up, green eyes widening slightly. “You haven’t heard?”
He stood beside the desk, waiting for her to take a seat first. Giving her permission to change her mind. Letting her be in control of the way things played out. He’d found this was the only way he could get her to open up. “Is it something else about the shooting?” Despite himself, a warm smile split his face. “I know you saved a woman from certain death. That’s something to take pride in, is it not?”
Another step forward and the arm of the sofa was against her leg. Closer, but still far from taking a seat and unloading whatever was weighing her down. She shrugged one shoulder, eyeing the couch like an old foe. “I’m still not back to work.” Another step and she finally plopped down onto the plush seat, leaning back into the cushions with a heavy sigh. Head back, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she stared at the ceiling.
Powell took his place on the chair across from her, settling in while she wrestled her inner demons. “Want to talk about it?”
When she finally raised her head so they were eye to eye, the fire was back. “It’s crap.”
“You don’t feel the restrictions are fair?”
She shook her head. “Not one bit. He was going to kill the victim. It was a good shoot. And Jones is another matter.”
“This type of leave after witnessing a fellow officer’s death, even though Jones was retired, and restricted duty due to your being shot and killing a suspect isn’t about the righteousness of the actions. The time away from duties is about due process and ensuring the health of our officers. It’s nothing personal.”
“It feels personal.”
“Why?”
She blinked, shoulders stiffening, but didn’t answer right away.
Powell sat back, pen and paper untouched on the table beside him. He forced himself to relax, consciously releasing the tension from his shoulders, then his jaw, and finally letting his face soften. As he watched Ellie, she subconsciously mimicked his movements until she melted into the back of the sofa, releasing the breath she’d been holding.
Finally relaxed, she said, “I feel like people are just waiting for me to mess up.”
“There’s often a fine line between an officer being reckless and being determined. Both portray an unwillingness to let go, but only one ends up successful in the end.”
“That sounds like one of the new fortunes in a fortune cookie that is actually a saying.”
He quirked a brow up at her, overlooking her avoidance of the topic. “Did you ignore your superiors and follow your hunch?”
She nodded.
“And were you right?”
She snorted. “If Fortis heard you right now, he wouldn’t be too happy.”
“Then, he’d be wrong.”
Her expression softened a little. “Thank you.”
“I think it’s safe to say that a balance is needed, one that would tip the scales in your favor, making them a little lighter on the reckless.” He fully expected her to get up and leave. When she didn’t, he took a sip from his water bottle and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I get the feeling that there’s more going on than just your frustration with Charleston PD protocol.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She rolled her eyes, covering her vulnerability with wry humor as she tended to do.
“Let’s start with why you’re still sitting here. You’ve spoken about what happened in Bartlett Woods, but you haven’t said a thing about your own kidnapping. Have you remembered anything more?”
“No.” She paused, staring off into the distance, and sighed. “Well, not really.”
“Let’s explore that.”
She sat up again, placing her feet flat on the floor. Her muscles tensed, reminding him of a delicate bird perched to run. “There’s nothing to explore. That’s the problem.”
Powell wrinkled his brow. Eyes still locked on hers, he reached for the notepad and pen, crossing his legs slowly. Green eyes followed the movement, her lips in a tight line. “Have you remembered anything? Even if you think it’s unimportant.”
“Snippets here and there.”
“Tell me.”
She puffed her cheeks out, blowing out a frustrated breath. “What’s the point?”
“You’ve recovered more memories since we’ve started working together, have you not?”
She nodded, crossing her arms. Her feet were still on the floor, but now her elbow rested on the arm of the sofa.
“What about the nightmares?”
She stiffened and turned away.
