Powell leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Well, then I’d say we made a bit of progress today, despite the challenges.”
“But is it enough to get me back to work by the end of my restriction? Will Fortis and Johnson see that I’ve improved, and I’m ready? I need to be back in the field and doing something.”
“My report will reflect your progress.”
She brushed her fingers over her eyebrow, clearly fighting for patience. “I like how you didn’t commit to a yes or no there.”
When she went to collect her purse from the table, he slipped his hand into his pocket and turned the recorder off. “There are rules, and I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by breaking them.” He offered a reassuring smile when she slung her purse over her shoulder and eyed him with barely concealed suspicion. “Everything will work out the way it should, Kline. Trust the process.”
She snorted, making her way to the door. “If you say so, Phillip.” She blinked, looking surprised at herself. “I mean, Dr. Powell. I’ll see you next week. And thanks.”
The door eased shut behind her, clicking into place. Powell waited a beat to make sure she didn’t turn around and come back in, picked up the phone and punched the keypad. The smooth, deep voice answered on the second ring.
“I need to speak with you.”
The man chuckled. “Good afternoon to you too, Dr. Powell.”
“We need to talk. I’ll head over to your office after my last appointment. Should be around four o’clock.”
“I look forward to your arrival.”
The line went dead in his ear before he could respond.
Setting the phone back in the cradle, he removed the sheets of paper from the pad that held the notes from Detective Kline’s session and put them in her folder. Replacing the file in the cabinet, the metal wheels scraped along the track, forcing him to jiggle it shut. He locked it, smiling as a knock announced his next patient.
He had work to do.
Miss Eleanor Kline’s issues would have to wait.
10
Ellie’s cell phone rang as she was pulling into a parking space near the side entrance of Charleston PD. She scowled, wondering who could be calling at just before six in the morning.
The number to Fortis’s direct line appeared on the caller ID, and her frustration changed to concern. Answering on the third ring, her voice came across as more chipper than she meant it to be. “Good morning, sir.”
Fortis didn’t bother with a greeting. “I need to see you in my office, Kline.”
If she hadn’t had coffee already, those words would have jarred her senses to life. “Of course. I just got here, so I’ll drop my things at my desk and be right up.”
“Now, Kline.”
Her stomach clenched. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“We’ll talk when you get here.” The line went dead in her ear. No goodbye, no explanation.
Reaching for her bag, she paused, grabbing her coffee to take a deep swig. Whatever Fortis wanted to talk to her about, she wasn’t about to lug all her things up to his office, then back down again. His urgency had caused tension to begin building in her stomach, so she left her things in the vehicle.
Sipping her coffee as she walked, she skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs to burn off nervous energy before meeting with her boss. Finishing the rich brew while it was still piping hot, she chucked the empty cup in the trash can at the top of the stairs.
Shoving the door open with her hip, she continued down the long, empty hallway that led to the Violent Crimes Unit, where the rest of the detectives worked. Most of the cases were suspected homicides, but many of the more violent assaults found their way into the VCU bullpen, which was headed by Lead Homicide Detective Harold Fortis.
Loud and crowded, Ellie much preferred the quiet space she shared with Jillian on the lower level. The basement room wasn’t the bright, open space with a bank of north-facing windows, but she was comfortable there.
In the hallway, she paused just outside the door. The gold letters that announced “Charleston Homicide Division” were peeling at the edges.
She filled her lungs slowly until they were about to burst, but when she exhaled, her muscles weren’t any less tense. Fortis typically had a calm countenance, but his tone had been urgent. Mind racing with all the possible reasons Fortis would want to see her before her thirty-day work restriction was up, she turned the knob and walked into the Violent Crimes Unit, ignoring the sudden silence that greeted her as she strode toward Fortis’s office. She nodded to anyone who made eye contact with her, keeping her shoulders back, and finally setting her eyes on the lead detective’s door.
He waved her in before she had a chance to knock on the glass panel, motioning her toward the chair in front of his desk.
The burnt orange pleather squeaked as she sat down, the two-decades-old foam insert letting air out through a crack in the ancient fabric. The worn wooden arms were polished in uneven splotches by countless detectives who had found themselves under Fortis’s watchful gaze for one reason or another, while the rest of the wood was dull and starting to splinter.
Fortis’s hazel eyes narrowed on her, his voice serious when he finally spoke. “How are your sessions with Powell going?”
Forcing a pleasant expression on her face, Ellie nodded. “It’s going well, I guess.”
“How many times have you met with him in the past three weeks?”
She paused, thinking for a moment before she answered. “Seven. I went three times last week.”
Her statement earned her an arched eyebrow. “Are you having issues?”
“No, but you and Chief Johnson both made it clear that I’m expected to meet with Dr. Powell as often as possible. He had a last-minute cancelation, so when he
