joint collaboration with several major pharmaceutical companies. Bristling with self-importance over his role as Winchette’s newest pet, Deets had made it clear that he expected to be reassigned there as well.
“Hold on.” Once again, Winchette impatiently tugged his cell phone free and held it out to glance at the caller ID. His scowl deepened. “I have to take this one.” He opened the phone. “Winchette.”
Erin looked out the window, taking in the crowded freeway as she idly wished for this excursion to end. Maybe a getaway was what she needed. Time alone to regroup. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe a good old-fashioned booty call would help reset her circuits. Ground her back in the real world of flesh and blood lovers, not imaginary men who existed only in dreams.
“Did you say there were two men? Good Lord! When did this happen?” Dr. Winchette’s voice rose. “No need to do that. I can let Dr. Houston know.”
His tone was impossible to ignore. She noted the rising flush in his cheeks. He was getting more agitated by the moment. And judging by the accusatory look he’d just thrown her way, she was involved.
Guilt climbed up her spine.
“What is their ETA?” Winchette looked at his watch now. “I’m on my way. And I don’t want those men taken to the Naval Hospital. Tell them I’ll call back with the name of a private facility with a neurologist on staff where these men should be taken. Also find out who the agent in charge is and whom he reports to. That’s the person I want to speak with.”
When he disconnected, Erin cleared her throat, waiting for an explanation of why her name had been mentioned. “Is everything okay?” she prompted when he remained quiet.
“No. It’s not.” Clearly displeased, Winchette pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, sir?” The driver’s voice came over the speaker.
“There’s been a change of plans. I need to return to the hospital at once.”
Erin frowned. “You’re canceling your trip?”
Dr. Winchette peeled off his glasses before responding. “I’m needed for an urgent matter in California. Two men have been recovered and are en route to San Diego.”
“Recovered” meant the men had been missing; likely captured. Winchette being called in meant the suspicion of psychological abuse. His experience and background in mental coercion techniques, psychological warfare, also meant the case was ugly, messy.
“One of these men apparently worked with Dante Johnson,” he went on.
Aha. Erin nodded, careful not to overreact. Dante was Winchette’s former patient, the one that had requested Erin take over his case.
Far from a model patient, Dante had resisted assistance, bending only when his job required it. Initially it seemed he’d been around just long enough to cause trouble—for her—before disappearing.
Then he’d contacted her a few months ago, wanting to voluntarily complete their session. They’d since developed a great rapport.
Erin had learned a lot about Dante and the type of person it took to do the job he did. She’d also gotten a glimpse of what he’d gone through. Pure hell.
“Are these men in the same shape as Johnson?” Dante had been brought in near death. Recalling all the scars on his body made her shiver. She also remembered his rantings. The horrible nightmares.
“Worse perhaps,” Winchette said. Both are unconscious; one was shot in the head. They haven’t even landed in San Diego yet and there seems to be doubt whether either will survive the flight. I promised to make a couple calls, pull some strings.”
“What can I do to help?”
Winchette looked directly at her now, his gaze resigned. “You need to accompany me to California. Someone at the CIA has requested your presence as well.”
Chapter 5
Calder Center, San Diego, California
September 19
It was after 6 p.m. by the time Erin and Dr. Winchette made it to the Calder Center hospital.
Fighting rush-hour traffic in an unfamiliar city left her with
“Hold on.” Once again, Winchette impatiently tugged his cell phone free and held it out to glance at the caller ID. His scowl deepened. “I have to take this one.” He opened the phone. “Winchette.”
Erin looked out the window, taking in the crowded freeway as she idly wished for this excursion to end. Maybe a getaway was what she needed. Time alone to regroup. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe a good old-fashioned booty call would help reset her circuits. Ground her back in the real world of flesh and blood lovers, not imaginary men who existed only in dreams.
“Did you say there were two men? Good Lord! When did this happen?” Dr. Winchette’s voice rose. “No need to do that. I can let Dr. Houston know.”
His tone was impossible to ignore. She noted the rising flush in his cheeks. He was getting more agitated by the moment. And judging by the accusatory look he’d just thrown her way, she was involved.
Guilt climbed up her spine.
“What is their ETA?” Winchette looked at his watch now. “I’m on my way. And I don’t want those men taken to the Naval Hospital. Tell them I’ll call back with the name of a private facility with a neurologist on staff where these men should be taken. Also find out who the agent in charge is and whom he reports to. That’s the person I want to speak with.”
When he disconnected, Erin cleared her throat, waiting for an explanation of why her name had been mentioned. “Is everything okay?” she prompted when he remained quiet.
“No. It’s not.” Clearly displeased, Winchette pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, sir?” The driver’s voice came over the speaker.
“There’s been a change of plans. I need to return to the hospital at once.”
Erin frowned. “You’re canceling your trip?”
Dr. Winchette peeled off his glasses before responding. “I’m needed for an urgent matter in California. Two men have been recovered and are en route to San Diego.”
“Recovered” meant the men had been missing; likely captured. Winchette being called in meant the suspicion of psychological abuse. His experience and background in mental coercion techniques, psychological warfare, also meant the case was ugly, messy.
“One of these men apparently worked with Dante Johnson,” he went on.
Aha. Erin nodded, careful not to overreact. Dante was Winchette’s former patient, the one that had requested Erin take over his case.
Far from a model patient, Dante had resisted assistance, bending only when his job required it. Initially it seemed he’d been around just long enough to cause trouble—for her—before disappearing.
Then he’d contacted her a few months ago, wanting to voluntarily complete their session. They’d since developed a great rapport.
Erin had learned a lot about Dante and the type of person it took to do the job he did. She’d also gotten a glimpse of what he’d gone through. Pure hell.
“Are these men in the same shape as Johnson?” Dante had been brought in near death. Recalling all the scars on his body made her shiver. She also remembered his rantings. The horrible nightmares.
“Worse perhaps,” Winchette said. Both are unconscious; one was shot in the head. They haven’t even landed in San Diego yet and there seems to be doubt whether either will survive the flight. I promised to make a couple calls, pull some strings.”
“What can I do to help?”
Winchette looked directly at her now, his gaze resigned. “You need to accompany me to California. Someone at the CIA has requested your presence as well.”
Chapter 5
Calder Center, San Diego, California
September 19
It was after 6 p.m. by the time Erin and Dr. Winchette made it to the Calder Center hospital.
Fighting rush-hour traffic in an unfamiliar city left her with
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