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“Oh my God, did I black out again?” A frightened and anxious Erika cries.
Rising from my chair to comfort her, I tell her that it was only for a short period. Squatting before her, I grab her hand and plead with her to relax and stay calm, that everything is okay. I was wondering if she is aware of her alters, but her reaction just now confirms she isn’t.
“I’d like to see you again next week if that’s okay with you.”
“I black out, and you still want me to come back?” she questions.
“Yes, please. We were making great progress before, and I think I can really help you.”
“Thank you so much,” Erika cries. “I will book the appointment now.”
Once back on my feet, I hug her. It’s not something I’d typically do, but it’s not the adult version of Erika I’m trying to put at ease. Her alter, Lucy, pulls the strings and is the one I need to convince that I’m just trying to help.
With Erika now gone, I return to my desk to find a message from Hawke.
Hawke: Want to travel to Brooklyn with me this weekend?
Emily: Just the weekend?
I am munching on the watermelon Mary left on my desk as I wait for his reply. I’m scheduled for a CIA teleconference on Friday to evaluate Gregory Silverstone’s mental status, which I can do from anywhere. I just need to be back Sunday night as my schedule next week is hectic.
Hawke: We can go for as long as you want. Mark wants me to do some recon for our next mission.
Emily: How about we fly down Thursday night and come home Sunday night?
Hawke: I’ll make the arrangements now.
“Emily, dear,” Mary interrupts. “Your next appointment has arrived.”
Thanking her, I tell Mary to send in my next patient. Putting my cell back on my desk, I don’t bother replying to Hawke. If there is one thing I know about that man, he’s not big on texting. By now, he will already be organizing our flights.
The thought of spending time with Sumner, Tatum, and Abi brings a smile to my face. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them. Unlike Hawke, it’s not always as easy for me to take time away from my work.
“Eric, please come in,” I greet as my next patient opens the door.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Hawke
“Do you think you’ll get the information we need from your contact at Fort Hamilton?”
Closing my laptop, I glance toward Mark, who is currently propped against the desk near my own.
“I’m meeting with Earl on Friday,” I advise. “If anyone can help us locate Gregory Silverstone’s guy in Afghanistan, it’s him.”
When we captured Gregory last year after he kidnapped Sumner and Emily, I believed we were finally done with his bullshit. He tried to get to me through my family, and yes, I’ll admit he nearly succeeded in ending my life, but ultimately, he failed. His being in prison should have ended any association we needed to have with him, yet it hasn’t. If anything, Gregory takes great pleasure in dragging it out due to his knowledge of current events in Afghanistan.
“One day, Hawke, it’d be fucking nice to put this Afghanistan shit behind us.” He grumbles.
“It’s close,” I confidently declare. “There are only a select few who know about the files Fort Hamilton have hidden in their archives. It’s the only active department of defense post in New York, and Earl has been stationed there for over twenty years. As I said, it's him if anyone can help us.”
Running his hand over his face, I can relate to his frustration. For Mark and Charlie, it’s like a reoccurring nightmare that never seems to dim. When Christopher Asher was arrested after his son Erik killed himself during his botched kidnapping of Charlie, both believed they could put the El Mazir case behind them.
We all know that Christopher was El Mazir, but his imprisonment did nothing more than allow someone with far more evil intent to rise to power. We also learned of Vanessa’s involvement, but not to what extent. Gregory confirmed her aid to Christopher’s successor, yet my gut tells me he knows more than he is sharing. Vanessa’s death will have given Charlie some relief, especially after she became aware of Vanessa’s plot to kidnap her children, but I doubt it’s the closure she’ll be seeking.
Unfortunately, the intel we need from Gregory is only being released in dribs and drabs, and he knows that the longer he drags it out, the less likely he’ll see any real prison time. The hope now, though, is that Earl can give us some fresh leads to reduce the control Gregory temporarily holds over us.
“I hope you are right, brother,” he suddenly announces, slapping my shoulder. “That wife of mine may not voice it, but the longer that son of a bitch holds out on us, the longer everything that has happened will continue to haunt her.”
