She took it, wiping away the single tear that had slipped by her defenses. “I became a police officer so I could help people. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but if it’s the difference between saving a victim or not, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“And that’s why you’re good at what you do. You were a wonderful beat officer, and you’re a talented detective. This will all blow over, and you’ll be back to full duty before you know it.”
She nodded, balling the tissue tight in her fist. “Eleven more days.”
He took a sip of his water, set the bottle down, and gave her a warm smile. “I think you’ve handled the situation with grace and patience.”
“Now, I just need you to tell Fortis that.” She laughed as she adjusted the hem of her jacket, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again.
“You’re fidgeting.”
Ellie cast her eyes to the side for a moment and let out a heavy sigh. “It’s not just the restricted duty that has me on edge.”
“What’s changed? You weren’t this agitated Monday, nor were you on edge the prior weeks of therapy.” He leaned forward, concerned. “Did something happen?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. But the anniversary of my kidnapping and escape is a week from tomorrow.” She paused, and when he didn’t react, went on. “Friday the thirteenth. Thirteen years later.”
He nodded, blinking as he picked up the notepad and his new ink pen to jot down the date. “I’m not surprised that you’re feeling a little unbalanced, especially so close to an anniversary.” He paused, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m not sure that this anniversary will be any more momentous than the fifth, or even the tenth.”
“I can’t shake the feeling that it will be.”
Another note before he glanced up at her again. She sat stiffly under his gaze, green eyes staring at his forehead so she appeared to be making eye contact. She sat up straighter when he started writing again. “Have you had any contact with anyone you suspect was involved in your kidnapping?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you so sure that this—of all the years since you escaped—will be the year?” He tapped the pen on his knee. “If the kidnapper was going to wait this long, why not wait until the fifteenth year? Weren’t you fifteen when it happened?”
“I was.”
“It seems to me that the fifteenth year, when you’ll be twice the age you were at the time, would be a more momentous occasion, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.” Nervous energy buzzed around her as she leaned forward, resting her chin on one fist. “I just can’t help feeling like something is about to happen. I can’t explain it.”
“And you have nothing to back that up?”
She shook her head. “Just a gut feeling.”
“Sometimes, that’s all we have in this world.”
Her head shot up, and this time, she made direct eye contact. “You believe me?”
“I believe that you have good reason to be concerned, and you absolutely should be vigilant. But I’ll also caution you against letting that feeling eat you up inside. You’ll end up with relentless nightmares, and if you’re not careful, that feeling of dread will overwhelm you. You’re no good to the Violent Crimes Unit if you’re jumping at your own shadow.”
Her eyes flicked to the side.
Surprised, Dr. Powell cleared his throat, pen poised over the paper. “Are you having nightmares again, Detective Kline?”
She nodded reluctantly, her lips pinched tight, a muscle in her jaw flexing.
“Last week, you shared that they were getting better. Is that no longer the case?”
“It’s just the past couple days.” Ellie clenched her hands tight. When she noticed Powell watching her movements, she unfisted them and took a breath, tossing the tissue in the little trash can by the table. “Monday night was the first bad nightmare I’ve had in a while.”
“After our hypnosis session?”
“Yes. The same wild, pointless visions.” She shook her head, a curl escaping its bindings. “None of it makes sense. And most of my dreams seem to focus more on what I’m feeling instead of what I see.”
“Your emotions are a valid part of your—”
“Not my feelings. Touch. The images move so fast I can’t make sense of them, but I feel cold metal in my hand, and my arm aching as I swing through in the air.”
“What else do you feel?” Powell leaned closer, his notepad forgotten for the moment.
“The heat of blood spilling over my hand. It’s hot, flowing and ebbing with the rhythm of a heartbeat.”
Powell winced. “That’s a very specific image right there. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
She shook her head, scowling at her hands. One fist was clenched tight as if she were holding a weapon, ready to stab in the air as she had in the dream. “I can’t, and that’s the problem. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue, but it stays out of reach.”
“I’m sure that’s frustrating for you.”
“Very.”
Powell glanced at the clock. “We have time for a short hypnosis session.”
“I don’t think I’m in a good headspace for it.” She tilted her neck, rolling her shoulders to illustrate her point. “I’m tense, and my mind is wandering more than usual. I think I’m okay just talking today.”
“As the expert, I’m going to disagree. Hypnosis would do you some good right now, and maybe even help you center yourself so you can feel more at ease.”
She sat up a little straighter, looking at him in question. “You can do that?”
“No, but I can help you do that. Hypnosis isn’t about me. You’re one-hundred-percent in control, and that includes any suggestions that are left behind to help you cope with the extra stress.”
She rolled her emerald eyes. “Extra stress. You say that like I’m a bit overwhelmed.”
“Is it worse than that?” He arched an eyebrow, hand already moving for the pen he’d put aside on the table beside him.
She rushed to amend her
