Free The Door at the Top of the Stairs by Alison Naomi Holt Page A

primarily with a patient releasing a traumatic memory and actually experiencing the pain of the torture during therapy. Ryland had a feeling Jesse's memories were buried so deep that once they surfaced the pain would be excruciating.
    Other patients she'd treated had gone through similar experiences, and she wanted to brush up on techniques that would help Jesse remember what had caused the pain and relegate those memories to the past where they could do no further harm. She opened the book and leafed through it for the fifth time that day.
    An hour later, Morgan and Jesse walked into the house. Jesse's face was set in an angry mask, and she refused to look at Ryland or even acknowledge she was in the room. Ryland sat in a chair facing the sofa. Morgan put her hand on Jesse's shoulder and pointed to where she wanted her to sit. Jesse sat on the sofa, still refusing to meet Ryland's eyes. Morgan made herself comfortable and forced herself to relax.
    Ryland studied Jesse a second, taking in the crossed arms and the angry mask. "You know, you never did tell me yesterday why they paid money to kidnap you. What were you to them?"
    Jesse shrugged. “I killed the man's younger brother. He tried to rip me on a drug deal. He pulled a gun on me and I shot him."
    "Why just you? Why didn't they want Pete too?"
    Jesse looked at Ryland as though the answer should have been obvious to her. She shook her head. "Pete wasn't there. He was in a different hotel room. He was one of the back-up officers."
    "But if he was your partner, why wouldn't he have been in the room with you?" Ryland smiled at the comical expression on Jesse's face. Obviously she thought any fool would know why Pete hadn't been in the room. "You have to remember, Jess, I don't have a clue about how undercover officers work. Help me out here."
    "Well—" Jesse looked around the room, trying to think of a way to explain. "You can't just walk into a drug deal and bring a friend along. They'd know you were a cop and know your friend was your back up. These guys are paranoid. They see two people, it's either a rip off or you’re a cop. Either way, they clam up."
    Ryland nodded. "So, you killed his brother. How did he find out it was you?"
    Jesse shrugged. "It was in all the papers. The media doesn't care if they blow your cover. All they care about is their story."
    Ryland decided to move on since that particular memory didn't seem to bother Jesse at all. "Yesterday you remembered being nailed to the door post by your wrists. How long did they leave you there?" Ryland saw the tell-tale glance up and to the left.
    At least Jesse was trying. They sat in silence, waiting.
    Jesse flashed back, a quick picture of a dark hallway leading to stairs leading into the light.
    Ryland was getting more adept at reading her and knew when she'd remembered something. "What are you seeing?"
    "A dark hallway...and at the end of the hall, some stairs going up." Jesse quickly focused on Ryland, then immediately looked away. There was no way she was going to make a fool of herself again today. She'd answer questions and be done.
    "Are you hanging in the doorway?"
    "I'm standing."
    "Where are your hands?"
    Jesse looked at Ryland. “What?"
    Ryland didn't answer, just raised her eyebrows. She watched as Jesse processed the question. When Jesse made eye contact with Morgan, Ryland was pleased Morgan mimicked her own response and simply raised her eyebrows. She'd never used a second person to help with therapy, but if she had, Morgan would have been the perfect partner; she was smart, quick, and tough, but more importantly, she was stubborn. More stubborn than Jesse, and luckily, Jesse believed in Morgan's strength.
    Jesse held Morgan's eyes. “Are you sure you can do this?"
    Ryland repeated her question. “Where are your hands, Jesse?"
    She watched Jesse close her eyes and do the abbreviated head shake Ryland now knew meant memories were trying to push out and Jesse was trying to push them back in.