While I'm taking some artistic licence on how much you can do in one session, what happens next is a pretty accurate description of a real therapy.
Ranger
I looked around the room again. I was as secure as I was going to feel. "How does this work? And how much did Bobby tell you?"
She dragged over an ottoman so she was sitting close to me. "He said that you were having panic attacks in public, losing at least some awareness of your surroundings. You have an important job tomorrow you need to be at your best for, so you're hoping you can prevent the possibility of something triggering another one."
I nodded. That was the jist of it. "Are you going to hypnotize me? Lots of the things I've done and seen are classified. I have to be in control of what I tell you."
"You're going to be relaxed, but fully conscious of what you are saying." She went to her desk and fetched a small tripod and a long black bar with diodes on it. "Here's how it works," she said as she started setting it up. "When we experience trauma, our brain remembers everything around us. It's a defence mechanism, so we can avoid those things in the future. What EMDR does is take a traumatic event from your long term memory and put it into your short-term memory by talking about it. While you are doing that, a light moves from side to side on this bar. We don't know exactly why, but moving your eyes back and forth rapidly helps you process those experiences, much like REM-sleep dreams. You don't forget the experience, but it's no longer keeping you from functioning. It can't hurt you anymore."
That sounded reasonable to me. Dr Burke then asked me a bunch of questions about traumatic events in my life, especially ones where I felt helpless or worthless. We narrowed it down to three events to work on today. She flipped a switch on the bar, and a light zig-zagged back and forth on it, like a brightly colored ping-pong ball. Left, right, left, right.
"I want you to tell me what happened that day when you felt helpless."
Left, right, left, right.
I was on a flight coming back from Miami. The plane had sat on the runway for an interminable length of time, so I was already late getting home. We were two hours out when I got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. I scanned all the other passengers, the crew, my FTA staring out the window in the seat next to me, but nothing had changed. Nothing to account for the feeling of dread creeping up on me. It got worse minute by minute as the plane slowly crept towards the Newark airport. I glanced at my watch. The time was creeping by more slowly the closer we got to landing.
Left, right, left, right.
After two hours that felt like 12 the wheels dropped and we finally hit the ground. I pulled out my phone and turned it on before we were given permission, but I really didn't care. There were 3 missed calls from Stephanie and a text from Tank that simply said "Call me when you land."
I hit the speed dial, praying it was something simple, something that I could easily fix. Something unrelated to those missed calls. "Report."
"Bomber's been off the grid for at least an hour. She went to Stiva's funeral home, and the bike is still there, but we can't find her. Hal said she left and was planning to come back. When she didn't, he alerted me and we started looking for her."
Left, right, left, right.
"What have you found?"
"She isn't in the funeral home. We've sent out feelers, but we didn't want to do anything too public before talking to you. It's possible she got a lead somewhere close enough to the funeral home that she walked, or tried to shake her tail. She's done that sometimes."
That knot in my stomach got tighter. Something had happened to her, I knew it. I'd known it for two hours. We'd already missed the golden hour that was the best chance of getting someone back alive after a kidnapping.
Left, right, left, right.
"Pull out all the stops. Everyone is on this. Every employee, contractor, guy who applied a couple years ago, old buddy living in the Tri-state area, anyone." I couldn't lose her. I'd come so close to getting her back in bed with me. Once that happened, I'd hoped I could keep her there. And now she was missing, with a nutjob after her that had already shown he was fine with killing innocent people. I looked out the window. The plane was taxiing at about the speed of a sloth on barbitchuates. My FTA had woken, and was blinking at the harsh light.
Left, right, left, right.
I could hear Tank clacking away on a keyboard over the phone. "Got it Ranger. Hal pulled in a favor, the Newark police are going to meet you at the gate to grab your FTA."
Honestly, at this point I couldn't give a damn about him. I would have left him on the plane to fend for himself if he hadn't actually been a pretty dangerous guy. But I'd get him off the plane and into the cops' hands as long as it wouldn't slow me down.
Left, right, left, right.
10 minutes later I was in my car racing back to Trenton. I'd abandoned my checked bag with my gun, not wanting to wait to find it at baggage claim. I'd called everyone I could think of to try to find her. Lula, Connie, even her friend Mary Lue. No one knew where she was. Everyone said they would keep an eye out.
Left, right, left, right.
It's a 1 hour drive between Newark and Trenton. I did it in 40 minutes. When I got to Haywood I didn't even bother parking, I just drove into the garage and threw the car into park in the middle of the aisle. There are advantages to owning the building. I raced up the stairs to the 5th floor, barreling into Tank's office.
Left, right, left, right.
"What do we know?"
"We have people out canvassing the 'Burg, searching Stark Street, but we haven't gotten any leads."
"Where else?"
Left, right, left, right.
"We've searched any property owned by Constantine Sitva, Spiro doesn't have anything in his name."
"Considering he's presumed dead, that's not a surprise." Then an idea hit me. "He's presumed dead, but they didn't find a body. That's going to throw a wrench in the legal process."
Left, right, left, right.
Tank picked up on where I was going instantly. "It would be in probate." He grabbed the phone and pounded in a number. "Silvo, look up records of any properties that might have been in Spiro's name but that are now in probate." He waited a beat. "What do you mean you can't?" Another beat. "What fucking century are we living in?" Beat. "Shit. Tell us if you come up with something."
Left, right, left, right.
Tank slammed the phone down. "The property records from more than 2 years back aren't computerized yet. And it's past 5, so the office is closed."
Left, right, left, right.
I felt a cold pit settle into my stomach. Stephanie was missing. She had to be scared, maybe hurt. I could feel it in my bones. She was out there somewhere, and she needed me.
Left, right, left, right.
I stood up and went to my office. I had an address to look up.
Left, right, left, right.
The clerk's house was right outside the 'Burg, in a white clapboard building indistinguishable from any other one on the street. I took a deep breath. This woman had done nothing wrong, and may be the key to getting Stephanie back.
Left, right, left, right.
I pounded on the door, and a few seconds later a short woman opened it, looking like someone who had come home from work and had absolutely no intention of leaving the house until the next day. She was in a robe and bunny slippers, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her mouth.
Left, right, left, right.
"Ms. Socrata?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
Left, right, left, right.
"Yes. Can I help you?" she replied, looking at me warily.
Left, right, left, right.
I pulled out my bounty hunter badge and flashed it. It had no legal weight, but it sometimes helped grease the wheels. "I need your help locating a property that is in probate."
She looked at me like I had grown a second head. "And you had to come to my house for that? We open tomorrow at 8:30." She went to close the door. I braced my arm against it. I was keenly aware of the gun in my back waistband.
Left, right, left, right.
"Please." I said it quietly, plaintively, with a hint of desperation in my voice. "It's a matter of life and death. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't."
Left, right, left, right.
"This is ridiculous." She went to shut the door, and I decided playing nice wasn't going to be fast enough.
Left, right, left, right.
"I don't have time to explain. I need you to come, and I need you to come now." and I pulled the gun out.
Left, right, left, right.
The house was 15 minutes away. As I had suspected, it had been stuck in probate while Spiro's status was unknown. I raced there, Tank right on my heels. When I got there, I didn't even bother with picking the lock. I kicked the door open, and burst in, Tank, Hal, and Cal right on my heels. We started methodically tearing the place apart. When I turned on the light in the kitchen I saw a cabinet with some shelves stacked beneath it and a locked chain wrapped around the handles. I made a beeline for it, each second on the kitchen clock passing as if it were an eternity.
Tick. Left, right, left, right.
I turned to the cabinet and took a long stride, starting to pray. Please, please let her be OK.
Tock. Left, right, left, right.
While I was tempted to shoot the lock off, I didn't want to risk either injuring or scaring her. She's such a good person. The world needs her.
Tick. Left, right, left, right.
I pulled out my lock-picking kit from a pocket, jamming the tension rod in far harder than I normally would. I need her to be OK.
Tock. Left, right, left, right.
The lock was a simple one, probably meant for a suitcase. But my hands were shaking so much I couldn't even get the picks inside. I'll do anything.
Tick. Left, right, left, right.
In frustration I yanked the lock down, shattering the simple mechanism. The momentum not only opened the chain, but pulled the cabinet doors open as well.
Tock. Left, right, left, right.
I saw her for a moment, stuffed into the cramped space with her shackled legs above her and her arms pinned underneath. With the door open Stephanie tumbled out into the void and my heart stopped. I'm too late. This is all my fault. I should never have left town while someone was threatening her. I should never have told her to stir things up, or even encouraged her to become a bounty hunter. If it weren't for me, you'd still be alive. I'm so sorry Babe, I'm so sorry.
Tick. Left, right, left, right.
Instinctively I reached out to catch her. The 'ooff' she let out when she crashed into me was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. I stood her up, gripping her tightly while staring into her endless blue eyes. Eyes I hadn't been sure I would see again. Time went back to normal, the the releaf the flooded through me was an actual physical sensation.
"I saw you folded up in there, and I thought you were dead," I'd been sure she was dead. That losing her was the punishment for everything I had done.
Tank and Hal went to work loosening her bonds, I just stared at her, drinking her in, and trying not to remember the reality of our situation. She's not yours Manoso. She belongs to another. No matter how much you want her, you can't have her.
"It's not Spiro," she said. "It's Con, and he's coming back to kill me. If we hang around we can catch him."
For a moment, just a moment, I let myself imagine just running away with her. Taking her back to Haywood and locking the door. But there were things that needed to be done, and I couldn't worry about her while doing them. I'm not proud of what I did next, but it was necessary.
I lifted her injured wrist to my lips and kissed gently. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but there's no we. I've just had six really bad hours looking for you. I need to know you're safe. Sitting in this house waiting for a homicidal undertaker doesn't feel safe." And I put the handcuff back on her arm, making sure to avoid the cuts. "You've had enough fun for one day."
I attached other cuff to Tank, startling him as much as her.
"What the . . ." Tank said.
"Take her back to the office and have Ella tend to her wrists and then take her to Morelli," I told Tank.
And Stephanie, stubborn as ever, pulled away. "No way!"
I looked at my second in command, the man I had trusted with my life dozens of times over. "I don't care how you do it. Pick her up. Drag her. Whatever. Just get her out of here and keep her safe. And I don't want those bracelets to come off either of you until you hand her over to Morelli."
Stephanie looked livid, which didn't surprise me much. "I'm staying."
Tank stared at me, trying to decide if I had lost my damn mind. I had, I'd spent 6 hours completely out of my mind, and I needed to know she was safe, no matter how mad it made her.
I also knew Stephanie well enough to know a fight would take precious time we might not have. "Please," I asked, hoping I could get her to see things through my eyes, even if just for a night.
"Okay," she finally said, sounding deflated "Be careful. He's insane."
Tank and Hal left with her, and returned an hour later, having delivered her to Morelli's door. Once again I was doing to work to protect her while he got all the benefits. I didn't know if I should be pissed, jealous, or both.
Tank and I hid in the kitchen while Hal stake out the front door. I got back into what Stephanie calls my zone, trying to decide what the hell I was going to do with her, me, my whole life. I'd had a plan. Get training in special forces. Earn money doing skip tracing until I had enough saved to start the company we'd all talked about when we were on deployment. Become a respectable businessman in the community, keep to myself, and see Julie a couple of times a year. Simple. And then a crazy-haired Babe named Stephanie Plum tore my plans apart.
We waited for an hour and a half in the dark house, when the hum of the garage door broke the suburban silence. We crept to either side of the door, waiting for him to come in through the house.
The crash was all the louder for the silence we had been sitting in. Tank and I raced into the garage, only to see the whale of a car Stephanie drove ramming again into Stiva's sedan. Then she got out, looked at her car, pulled the fluffy mop she called a dog out, and brought it to pee on the lawn.
Anger, relief, and incredulity wared in my brain as I stared at her, trying to figure out what to say. In the end, there was only one word that could cover it all. "Babe".