Ericka hung her clothes in the tiny closet in the main room. Then she put up the dry groceries that Greg had purchased. Thankfully, he had remembered toilet paper, toothpaste, and a few other bathroom essentials.
After she finished putting away her few belongings, she settled back on the bed. There was no room for a chair or even a table to hold a television.
She thought about taking out her computer and watching a show, but the flight and the company had made her tired. Since she had to get up so early, she decided to go on to bed.
The mattress had a lump right in the small of her back. The pillow she’d ordered was almost flat. She tossed and turned to get comfortable. Then she curled up on her side and balled the pillow under her head.
Finally, her eyelids began to drift downward.
A light mist fell from the sky and dampened Ericka’s wool hat. She snuggled deeper in her coat and placed her gloved hands in her pockets.
The congregation stood on the newly poured foundation. All eyes were attuned to the gentleman in front.
“Welcome! We are so glad to see you.” Pastor Ronald Ashley spoke to the gathered crowd. “As you can see, the foundation for our new building has been poured. I’m currently standing on the only stone that has been laid—the cornerstone.
“We all know about the foolish man who built his house on the sand and when the rains came it washed it away. But then there was the wise man who built his house on the rock and when the rains came it did not fail. The rock is the cornerstone, that’s Jesus. That’s why we’re all here today. He’s our rock, our cornerstone. I’d like to thank you for all your hard work with bake sales, car washes, tithes and offerings, and so much more. This building is going to be a sanctuary for many. That being said, let’s get inside out of this rain.”
The group laughed and smiled as they headed inside the original sanctuary. Ericka took her normal seat on the pew and unwound the scarf around her neck. Pastor Ashley settled behind the pulpit.
The back door opened. Ericka turned at the squeak.
A man in a ski mask holding what appeared to be a hunting rifle entered. He fired several rounds into the ceiling.
Several people in the congregation screamed. Children and elderly women began to cry.
Ericka didn’t move.
“Well, well. Pleased with yourself are you, pastor. Well let me just say that after today and what I’m going to do in this place you are going to be really glad for your new building.”
Ericka quietly slipped her service weapon from her purse and fired. Smoke filtered from the tip of the weapon. People screamed as the gunman dropped to the floor. She lowered her weapon and replaced it in her purse. Then she picked up her phone and called her office.
“There’s been a shooting at Mercy Baptist Church.”
While on the phone she walked to the gunman. There was a perfectly round hole in his ski mask, right between the eye holes.
She felt for a pulse.
She knew there wouldn’t be one, but she had to make sure.
Then she waited.
The alarm blared. Ericka sat straight up, covered in a cold sweat. The dream had come again.
The incident had followed her to New York. She should have known that she couldn’t get away from it. She would never be able to unsee what had happened.
For all the time that she’d been in the service she’d never shot anyone. She’d been shot at. But never the other way around.
She’d joined the FBI to investigate. She never wanted to shoot anyone, but it had happened anyway.
She ran her hand through her hair and sat on the edge of the bed. She had one hour to get ready for her ride to pick her up. It would probably be Greg, but she didn’t know for sure.
She didn’t want him to worry about her. She had to get her act together.
After choosing an outfit, she walked to the bathroom. At least that wasn’t too tiny.
She took her time taking a hot shower and trying to erase the memories of what had happened in her past.
Dr. Ellen, her new therapist, was supposed to talk to her about the events. Seeing her had been contingent on Ericka getting the job. She didn’t really mind talking to someone. Maybe they could help her understand why these kinds of things happened, but she seriously doubted it.
After showering, she ate a bowl of cereal. Greg had picked up raisin bran. Apparently, he didn’t know her too well after all. She liked the kind with crunch.
There was a knock at the door as she put the bowl in the sink. “Coming!” She slid her feet into her shoes on the way to the door.
She looked through the peep hole. Her heart did a tiny leap when she saw Greg on the other side.
So, it was him.
He’d come to take her to work.
She tugged her jacket downward and opened the door.
“Good job looking through the peephole. You can’t be too careful.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Are you ready?”
“Just let me grab my purse.”
She picked up the small messenger bag type purse and pulled it over her head.
“We should be at the office in about an hour. I’ve told our team that we’ll be there, and they’re ready to meet you.”
“Oh, my favorite part, meeting new people.”
“I know how you feel. Everyone in the office is practically new to me, but you’ll get used to it.”
She looked out the window and tried to pay attention to the buildings they passed. In no time, she’d lost count. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. How was she ever going to learn to drive here?
They slowed down before a tall glass building. He pulled in toward a bar gate, which rose. He chose a parking spot in a well-lit area.
She stepped from the car and waited.
“It’s this way.”
He led her to another part of the parking garage, where two elevators awaited them. One had a key opening, which Greg filled with a key from around his neck.
They stepped inside and he pushed the button for the thirteenth floor. But they didn’t go up, they went down.
She cocked her brow.
“Well, we need to be a little secretive.”
“Sure.”
The doors opened into a long hallway, which they walked along to a set of double glass doors. They entered. No one even turned their heads to look at them.
“I’ll get you set up at your desk, but before we do that, I need to take you to Dr. Ellen’s office.”
She sat at her desk for a few minutes while he disappeared behind a frosted glass. When he returned, she was going to have a meeting with a new therapist. Another thing she didn’t like doing.
****
Ericka entered the room. Abstract art in gilded frames decorated the wall. Something akin to ancient artifacts covered oak shelves that lined another wall. A few family type photos were scattered on the doctor’s desk.
The door opened as Ericka took a seat. She sank low into the suede covered couch then tried to scoot forward so that her feet would touch the floor, but it was almost impossible to move on the fabric.
Probably designed that way.
Made it harder to run.
“Ericka Stone, I’m Dr. Ellen Wisenhower.”
She leaned forward and stuck out her hand. The handshake was awkward. After all, Ericka was stuck to her seat.
“Ericka, do you know why you’re here?”
Ericka studied her hands.
“Well?”
She looked up at the doc. She knew exactly why she was here, but saying she was ordered to come to keep her new job didn’t sound polite.
She crossed her legs awkwardly. This couch needed to be burned.
Gathering courage, she answered, “Of course I know why I’m here. I shot someone. The department mandates therapy after a shooting. And just because I moved jobs is no excuse. I still have to have therapy.”
“That’s correct. It is mandatory to talk to someone after a shooting.” Dr. Ellen looked at her notes then she folded her hands on her notebook and adjusted her glasses. “You took the life of someone but not on the job. I’d like to know how that makes you feel.”
Her heart hammered in her ears. Her palms sweated. She didn’t want to talk about this. It was a clean shoot. Yes, she would have preferred the incident end in another way, but it hadn’t. What was she to do?
“So, I can tell you don’t want to answer my question, so why don’t we try an exercise.”
Ericka didn’t reply.
“If you had a business card that described everything about your team member Quinn, what would it say?”
Ericka chuckled. This she couldn’t do either. “You know I’ve never met him.”
“I do. I also know that you’ve read the team files, any good FBI agent would have looked him up before agreeing to join the team, which means that you know exactly who your team members are.”
Ericka shrugged. Dr. Ellen would get what she got.
“All right. Agent Quinn Miller is six five, at least three hundred pounds of solid muscle, and he is a computer whiz. He’s so uncoordinated he never played sports, yet he looks like a football player.”
“What about Maggie Hart?”
Maggie was quieter, more reserved. Her file had been short on good details and Ericka had had to dig.
“Sweet, short, like five-two, motherly, can cook anything. She invited the team over for a barbeque at her house once. She can make a mean burger.”
“Not going to ask how you know that, but very well.” She paused. “And what about Sergeant Greg Kane?”
Ericka swallowed.
“So, he’s a little harder.”
“I’ve known him a little longer.” And thought about him a little more.
“Try.”
She sucked in a deep breath. The sooner she got this over with the sooner she could get back to work.
“Very well. Greg Kane, high school football star, popular guy even though shy. Joins military to follow in his family’s footsteps. Comes home and becomes a cop. Compassionate, understanding, rarely dates, although extremely hot, and has his own car and apartment.”
“Interesting, maybe I should get his number.”
Ericka knew her feelings were written all over her face, but she wasn’t sure she cared. He had needed no research. They had a history. One she wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.
“And Ericka Stone? How would you describe her?”
That redirected her. She chuckled. “Ericka Stone, military medic, nurse, and now FBI task force special agent. No personal relationships outside of work. Loves her job.”
Raised in foster care. Has no clue about her parents or their whereabouts. Determined to make everyone safe because she grew up in unsafe places.
Ericka kept the last part to herself. This nosy doctor didn’t need to know everything. At least not yet.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Ericka would have asked where, but she really didn’t want to know. She would put up with the rest of the session and then beg to get out of it.
Weekly meetings with this lady would drive her crazy. She didn’t like talking about her feelings and that wasn’t about to change now. She was Ericka Stone; she had a reputation to protect.