Girl Undercover 10 & 11: The Abduction & Dante's Inferno, page 5
He soon faced me again.
“Gabi, I’m so sorry you’re having such a hard time dealing with Nick’s death. I truly am. But if only you could hear yourself right now, hear what it is you’re telling me, you’d understand why I have to ask the following of you—I want you to call Dr. Sokoloff and start therapy. Immediately. It’s for your own good.”
I couldn’t stop the snort of disbelief that came out of me. “You actually think I’m crazy?”
“Crazy might be an overstatement. But I do think you’ve invented the story in an effort to deal with the pain of losing Nick. That’s what I think.”
I wetted my lips as I pondered how to deal with Brady’s stance. He clearly did think I had gone mad then, even if he didn’t use those exact words. Given how he contemplated me at the moment, like I was this pathetic creature taking up space on his couch, I knew I needed to be smart in order to make him open his eyes and take my words seriously. Screaming at him that he had to believe me would only solidify his belief that this was simply a case of post-traumatic stress. Besides, Dr. Sokoloff had been part of my plan B anyway. It was really no big deal that he wanted me to go see her. Like Ian said, we had time, plenty of time. It wasn’t like the coups would happen in the next few weeks. Long before they were scheduled to happen, Dr. Sokoloff would help me help Brady see the light.
“Okay,” I said, nodding.
He tilted his silvery white head slightly, raising a brow. “Okay what?”
“I’m okay with seeing our psychologist.”
He looked at me for a long beat, not saying a word. Then he walked out of the room, returning with a cell phone in his hand. “I’m going to call Dr. Sokoloff now and ask her when’s the soonest she can see you.” He gave a kind smile. “I’m so happy you’re not being difficult about this, Gabi. That you realize on some level that all I want is for you to get well again.”
“Me, too.”
I watched him as he called the station and asked for our staff psychologist. Within a few minutes, he had arranged for me to see her.
“You’re sure tomorrow at nine a.m. is fine then?” he asked me, covering the lower part of the phone to prevent Dr. Sokoloff from hearing him.
“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “I want to speak to her as soon as possible.”
“Great.” He removed his hand and told the doctor that I would be seeing her tomorrow. Disconnecting, he added, “You’ll have to excuse me now, Gabi. I must go to the hospital for a check-up and I’m already running late.” He grimaced. “I’m feeling well, but they’re insisting that I come in for blood tests anyway.” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “But I wanted to make sure we could take care of you first. You’re not well right now, but at least you have the ability to admit that. It’s the first step. It’s all going to be okay.” He gave that kind smile again.
“Right.” I got to my feet. “I really appreciate that you’re looking out for me, Captain. Thank you so much.” I turned around and walked toward the foyer and the front door. He followed me closely behind. As we reached the door and I stopped to say goodbye, he put a hand on my arm.
“Will you promise me that you check in with me after you’ve seen Dr. Sokoloff?” he asked, looking sincerely concerned.
“Of course. I’ll call you right after.” And then I will tell you that Dr. Sokoloff does not believe I’m crazy at all and you’ll have to believe me, I thought but didn’t say. I had known our precinct’s psychologist since I started working as a cop and we were on very good terms. She was an excellent counselor and I had yet to catch her misdiagnosing someone. I was not planning on being the first one.
We said goodbye and then I left.
When I sat in my car, I called Jonah. It turned out all he did last night when Ian set after him was going to a nearby drugstore to pick up some Band-Aid. My so-called boyfriend had already texted me twice this morning to see how things were going with my mother and the doctors. I couldn’t put off getting back to him any longer, or he’d know something was up. Hopefully I’d get lucky and he wouldn’t pick up again, being far too busy training clients at this hour.
But I wasn’t lucky; he answered right before the call could go into voicemail.
“Hey, babe! Glad I’m finally catching you. We’ve been playing phone tag, huh. Did they cure her yet?”
“Hi Jonah. Not yet, but it’s definitely looking better. It looks like they’re going to need some more time to really beat it.”
“Oh. Well, don’t you worry. They’ll fix her for sure. It might take a little longer than we’d thought, but eventually your mom will be fine again. They’re the best. Trust me.”
I actually did trust him on that point. Knowing full well how a smile carried over the phone line, I forced myself to spread my lips into one as I spoke. “I’m so happy to hear that, Jonah. Thank you so much for sending them over here.”
“You should thank my dad, not me.”
“I can’t wait until I’ll get the chance to do so,” I said in a soft voice, realizing just what a golden opportunity Jonah had provided me with. Maybe I can convince him to have me meet his dad, I thought. If he could make that happen, I’d be willing to not only go back to New York, but I would even make out with him. “When will I get to meet your dad?”
He expelled a breath. “I can’t give you an answer to that. You probably won’t get to meet him until after the coups. He’s really stressed out right now. You know, worried that everything will go according to plan. Trust me, I would love for him to meet you sooner, but he’s also a very private person. He doesn’t like to meet anyone. I barely get to see him and I’m his son.” He chuckled.
Well, I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, I thought, disappointed. But maybe I’d get some useful information out of him at least. “Wow. I’m so sorry. That must suck. When was the last time you saw him?”
“A while ago. Hey, I’ve gotta run. Talk to you later, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The line went dead then. I looked at the phone in my hand, wondering if Jonah had really been in such a hurry all of a sudden that he didn’t have time to say goodbye even.
Or if the fact that I kept talking about Stenger had made him disconnect so abruptly.
Chapter 5
I wasn’t in the mood to catch up with my coworkers at the West L.A. division where I’d been employed for the last five years, so I used a back entrance to get inside to see Dr. Sokoloff.
Wearing baggy, drab clothes and an obscure ball cap pulled low over my face, I kept my eyes trained to the floor and shoulders hunched as I hurried past the desks where people sat to get to her office. I was lucky that the majority seemed to be out on calls. Barely daring to breathe, I snuck by the man and the woman, who were talking to each other at the moment.
Reaching the psychologist’s door, I rapped lightly on the white material before I opened it and stuck my head in.
Dr. Sokoloff, petite but strong-looking nonetheless, peered up at me from behind a laptop computer screen, her horn-rimmed glasses riding low on the bridge of her long nose. The brown-haired woman wore a navy pantsuit and, as usual, no makeup. Pushing her glasses higher up, she gazed at me, a smile growing over her nude lips.
“Well, hello, Detective,” she said in her raspy voice that always made me wonder if she lied when she claimed she neither drank alcohol nor had ever touched a cigarette. It sure sounded like she had done plenty of both in her life. She waved her hand impatiently. “Come in, come in.”
I entered her office that was as always filled with books stacked on any area that could hold them. In addition to being a bookworm, she was old school, insisting on reading hardcopy as opposed to e-books.
I took a seat on the threadbare gray chair that faced her desk where several other people had sat before me. It both looked and felt well used, wearing the imprint of a butt.
She closed her laptop and steepled her fingers as she took me in. I didn’t say anything, just let her soak me in with those intelligent amber eyes of hers.
“How are you holding up, Longoria?” she said after some time. She answered her question before I got a chance to say anything in response. “You look tired. Is that why you’re wearing that ugly hat? Or are you just trying to hide? Take it off so I can get a good look at you.”
I did as I was told, shaking out my red locks that I had stuffed into the dark ball cap. Dr. Sokoloff lowered her glasses and stared at me. “Wow. That hair makes you look so different that you don’t need to hide under that hat. No one would’ve recognized you. I doubt your own mother would know it’s you if you passed by her quickly. Did you do something else to change your looks?”
“I wore green contacts and had a mole next to my mouth. A beauty mark a la Cindy Crawford. Just to be sure I looked as different as possible from both myself and the Swedish trainer I used to impersonate while at that club. I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“I see.” She unsteepled her hands and leaned her forearms against the top of her desk instead. “Yes, small changes can have a big effect when combined. You’re as smart and thorough as ever. I’m sure no one ever put two and two together. Or did they?”
I thought about how both Ariel and Burt had said they thought I’d looked familiar. But that was it; they never did realize they had in fact met me before. I told her about this.
She nodded, smiling. “Of course you had to actually tell that Burt-person who you used to be.” She paused, peering at me over her glasses. “Did you find out who killed your husband?”
Leave it to Dr. Sokoloff to cut straight to the chase. Not that I minded. The sooner we could figure this out, the better. I was happy that Brady had filled her in on what I’d done in New York while on the phone with her yesterday, so she was aware what was going on. Surely he’d called her later in the day, giving her more details about how crazy I was. It would be just like him, not wanting to be insensitive by telling her in front of me.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure I did,” I said, leaning back into the chair and propping my foot on my knee.
She sat up taller, looking very interested all of a sudden. “Really? And who are they?”
I gave a lopsided little smile. “He didn’t tell you that part?”
“Who? Captain Brady?”
“Of course. I assume he’s already given you all the details. Or am I wrong?”
“He gave me a summary only. Even so, it all sounded quite… elaborate.”
I shrugged. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. They’ve had many years to get to this point, so you’d think it would be elaborate by now.”
“That’s true. Do you ever think of Nick?”
I looked away, at the small window covered by old Venetian blinds in her office. I had gotten to a point that when someone uttered Nick’s name, it didn’t bother me, but it did now. Hearing Dr. Sokoloff say his name felt like she had shot me through the heart it hurt so much for some odd reason. It must have been because of the inflection of her voice when she’d asked the question, sounding more intimate suddenly.
“Gabriella, do you ever think of Nick? Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I turned my head so I was facing her.
“Answer me,” she insisted softly but firmly, daring me to look away with her eyes. “Do you ever think of Nick? Can you remember his voice? Picture his face? Feel him in your mind?”
“I don’t want to,” I managed to get out in a voice that cracked.
“Because it hurts too much?”
“Yes. Especially when you keep talking like that. Please stop using that tone.”
“Okay, I will. I’m sorry. But are you telling me then that you’re making yourself not think of Nick, allow yourself to be sad about what happened, because it hurts too much? You need to deal with your grief. It’s still a fairly fresh wound and you’re meant to hurt badly for some time. But then it does get better. Little by little. Pushing it away like that will only make it worse.”
“I do realize that. And I used to think about him a lot in the beginning. It hurt like crazy. I had to drug myself to fall asleep. Work out like a maniac. Keep myself busy at all times. I think it hurt so much that I got numb in the end.” I sighed heavily. “I don’t know any longer. So much has happened that I don’t quite trust my feelings any more. But that’s how it used to be. Each time I thought of him, I came up with a way to stop thinking because I couldn’t stand it—I missed him too much. So much it was physically painful. But now, I can’t sort my feelings out. There’s too much going on.”
“Is that why you’ve invented this elaborate fantasy about this corporation that’s about to take over the world by”—she narrowed her eyes as though trying to remember something—“by overthrowing the U.S. government, was it? Using a bunch of genetically engineered humans they control?”
“It’s not a fantasy,” I said. “But I realize it does sound crazy. Sadly, it’s all true.”
“Uh-huh. And you can prove it, I take it?”
“Yes, but it would be very hard. Not to mention time-consuming. It’s far easier if you can determine somehow that this is not just me imagining all of this only because I can’t deal with the fact that Nick was murdered.”
Dr. Sokoloff pushed up her glasses at the same time as the corner of her mouth quirked up. “I’ll bet it would be a lot easier. For you.”
I removed my foot from my knee and put it on the floor, leaning toward her while placing my elbows on her desk. “I told Captain Brady the truth, doctor. Yes, dealing with Nick’s death was not easy for me—still isn’t, but, with all due respect, I’m far too busy trying to stop Stenger and The Adler Group from realizing their worldview to deal with my grief right now.”
She cocked a brow. “Stenger?”
“Otto Stenger is the mastermind behind all of this.”
“I see.”
I pushed out a frustrated breath, getting in her face. “Come on, you know me. You know I’m not a feeble-minded person, the kind that would make something like this up no matter how much pain I was in. And you have ways to test me. Please test me so that you can verify to Brady that I’m not crazy. The world as we know it is about to end, for God’s sake! If I don’t pass your test, feel free to deem me insane. I’ll take any and as many tests as you want me to.”
She inclined her head in consent. “All right, I will give you one chance. I will hypnotize you and see how you do. Okay?”
“Whatever you need to do to be confident I’m telling the truth. Hypnosis is your specialty, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I did my dissertation on hypnosis when taking my doctoral degree at Harvard. It’s a great technique when you want to get to the bottom of something. I personally believe it’s more accurate than any lie detector test in terms of arriving at the truth.”
“Sounds great. Can we do it now?”
She checked the big calendar on her desk, then glanced back up at me. “I can’t see why not, as long as you’re aware that you might be wiped emotionally afterward. Getting hypnotized can be quite exhausting.”
“I don’t mind. I can always take a nap when we’re done. Look, I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you to believe me, doctor.”
“Fine. Have you been hypnotized by someone else before?”
I shook my head no. “Never.”
“Okay then. Are you comfortable in that chair?”
I glanced down at the worn seat. “It’s not bad.”
“That’s not good enough.” She pointed to the old loveseat in a corner on which several tall stacks of papers sat. “Let me move the papers and you can lie down there. It’s crucial that you’re comfortable during the hypnosis for it to be most successful. But before I do that, let me get the mood in the room right.”
She pushed her chair away from her desk and got to her feet. The pantsuit she wore did little to hide her excess weight, which was concentrated to her stomach, making her look pregnant. Because she was well into her forties, closing in on fifty, I didn’t think pregnancy was the reason but sheer fat gain. She walked over to the one window in her office and grabbed the lever that controlled the position of the blinds and turned it. The light in the room dimmed significantly, but not enough so we couldn’t see each other and the furniture. Then she walked over to the loveseat and removed all the stacks of paper, placing them on the floor and on a side table. Turning around, she waved for me to come over.
I stood up and went over to the old khaki-colored canvas sofa and sat down on it.
“Make sure you’re in a comfortable position,” she said. “You’re welcome to lie down and put your feet up.”
Kicking off my flip-flops, I lay back against one side of the small sofa and swung my feet up over the other side.
She pulled up the gray chair I had been sitting in and placed it before me, sitting down there so she faced me. She smiled.
"Are you comfortable?” she asked.
I nodded. “Very.”
“Great. It’s important that you do exactly as I tell you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Take a deep breath in,” she said in a soothing voice. “Fill your chest and lungs with air. Bring it all the way down to your stomach..."
I did as she told me while seeing and hearing how she, too, inhaled deeply.
“Now slowly let the air out of your lungs,” she continued, exhaling slowly herself. “Completely empty your lungs, Gabriella. Now breathe in deeply again. Keep breathing all the way into your stomach and then let the air out again. Do it again. Breathe in, breathe out... Breathe in, breathe out… In, out. In, out. That’s good… Can you feel yourself relaxing?”
I kept breathing in and out deeply all the way down into my stomach. “Yes…”
“Good. Now I want you to pick an object in the room that’s still and just focus on that. The lamp on my desk might be a good one.” She gave me a few seconds to find something to rest my gaze one. I ended up fixing it on the orange lampshade like she had suggested. “Keep looking at that same spot as you keep doing the deep breathing,” she said.
