Chapter Seventeen
Eleanor chewed her bottom lip while reading Troy’s chart. She ached for him. His physical injuries alone would cause a psychological disturbance. The way he was injured sent chills down her spine. She read his current therapist’s notes. She would never disclose what she read to anyone, but could she trust her colleagues?
She wrote a detailed therapy plan and then took Troy’s chart to lock away in her file safe. She lifted the receiver and made a call. “Hey, Brandon, it’s Ellie. I want to speak with you about an incoming patient.”
She wanted a second therapist for Troy who knew the plan in case she had to run. Aaron Bain, despite his attitude in the beginning, would be a good match as a primary.
Her next call was made on the cell phone she removed from her home that morning. The call went to voicemail. “Lance, it’s Ellie. I need to speak with you as soon as possible.” Lance Starr was her Witsec handler. She ended the call and stashed the phone in her desk drawer. Her finger drifted over the framed photo Wes gave her.
The therapy center’s administrative assistant knocked on the door jamb, breaking her trance. “Ms. West, I’m heading to the cafeteria. Can I bring you anything?”
“Um, can you grab me a buttered roll and a yogurt?” Eleanor felt lightheaded and hoped the food would make her feel better. Besides, Wes would be pissed she didn’t eat again. She shook her head. It shouldn’t matter—he betrayed her. But it did.
“Also, Mr. Bremen called. He asked you to call him, no emergency,” the young woman said.
“I’ll call him. And in the future, could you lead with the phone message?” Eleanor sighed and called Troy.
“Ellie, I wanted to give you a heads up. I know this is probably not the best time, but the Center has agreed to mentor a PATH therapeutic riding instructor candidate. Her name is Gwen North. Her background is cleared, and she has her records to bring to you. Also, she’s been told to stay out of your way,” Troy chuckled.
Eleanor laughed. “Does anyone say no to you? It won’t be a problem. Send her my way.”
“Thanks. She should be there any minute. Keep up the good work.”
As she hung up the phone, a tall woman with loose long brown hair and dark brown eyes stood in her doorway wearing jeans, a bulky wool sweater and black Wellies. “Ms. West, I’m Gwen. Mr. Bremen sent me.”
Eleanor had no recognition of the woman she saw briefly wearing goggles, a swim cap and a form-fitting swimsuit. “Come on in. I have some paperwork to finish and a conference with one of my therapists that I will need to ask you to step out for. And then we can head to the barn. Tell me about yourself and your experience.” Eleanor smiled.
Gwen handed her a folder. “I’ve been working as a therapeutic riding assistant instructor at Wynwill Farms. I’m looking to increase my base and become not only a certified instructor, but a good instructor. That brings me here,” Gwen said.
“Welcome. When we go to the barn, I’ll show you the riding instructors’ offices and introduce you to the barn manager, Luke.” Eleanor leafed through the folder. “Then, we…
One of the therapists, Theo Harding stalked into her office. “Theo, I’d prefer you knock. Can I help you with something?” Eleanor asked, perturbed.
“Eleanor West, my name isn’t really Theo Harding. I’m Gideon Murrow from the FBI. And, of course, you’ve met Lawrence Nash.” A second FBI agent joined them. “We need you to come with us,” Agent Murrow said. This was the first time Eleanor had ever seen the agent.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Eleanor spat, thankful she was sitting. Her legs began to shake.
“You can’t do this,” Gwen shouted. “She has rights.”
“Listen, lady, she has no rights. She is a material witness to a crime.” Nash flexed his muscles in a show of authority.
“Ellie, you know the deal. Let me rephrase this: stand up and come with us,” Agent Nash demanded.
“I want to call my attorney, Mr. Starr,” Eleanor pleaded. Lance Starr, her Witsec handler, had pretended to be her attorney since she was found after her kidnapping.
“In due time,” Agent Murrow said.
“Ms. West, I’ll call Mr. Bremen.” Gwen’s hand rested on her phone.
The two agents led Eleanor out and put her in the back of a government vehicle. Agent Murrow turned from the driver’s seat and handed Eleanor a tissue. “I told you last time, I don’t remember anything.” She wiped her tears.
Special Investigatory FBI Agent Lawrence Nash slid into the seat beside her and placed three firm fingers around her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You can’t expect us to believe you, Ellie.”
She cringed at his touch. “It’s the truth.”
Nash shook her head. “This is going to be a very long day unless you cooperate.”
Eleanor caught the gaze of Gideon Murrow driving in the rearview mirror. The angry look on his face made her panic. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued to cry silent tears.
