Braxton had a restless night. He couldn't get Marissa/June off his mind. When his sessions were finished for the day, he had checked his voice mail. There was one from Brody saying that she had not been found. He called his friend back and left a message that he was now able to take calls. Brody called a half hour later. Braxton told him to not call the police, that he would deal with it the next day. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how the woman had gotten away. It wasn't like she could run and he and Brody had not been out of her room for very long. She walked slow - surely people would have noticed a patient in a hospital gown walking with crutches or wheeling herself around in a wheelchair. At least he thought she was still in the gown – she had not left it behind and he couldn't think of a reason to take it if she'd gotten dressed.

He finally got up at 5:00 and had a shower before making a cup of coffee in his Keurig. It was the only cup of caffeinated coffee he allowed himself each day. He sat down with the morning paper, which had been left outside his door. Finding it hard to concentrate, he went to his office and worked on billing. It was a chore he hated, but it had to be done if he wanted to pay his rent every month.

He was immersed in doing up invoices when his desk phone rang. He looked at his watch. 7:30am. It was Gideon Maynard. “I'm so sorry, Braxton – I was off yesterday due to a family emergency. What's going on with June?”

Braxton told him about the previous day. “I'm pretty sure it was her, Gideon, but just to cement it,what does June look like?”

“According to her chart, she's 5'0” and 95 lbs – a bit underweight for her height and stature. From what I remember, her hair is medium brown, a little past her shoulders with a slight wave to it. All one length. I think her eyes are brown, but I see so many patients, it's hard to remember. Oh, and she walks with forearm crutches.”

“That's her. Does her chart say why she needs the crutches?”

“I asked her, but she wouldn't tell me. Said it wasn't relevant to her medical issue. I didn't push.”

“That sounds awfully defensive.”

“I guess I have no choice but to put that hold on her and have the police pick her up. Could you fax me a note saying she didn't show and you can't reach her? Just to make it official.”

“Gideon, can you hold off?”

“For a little bit, I suppose - but why?”

“I'd like to see if a friend on the police force can do some checking around on the q.t. I don't think forcing her into the hospital is the way to go. She could fight it in court and by the time it was over, even if you did win, it might be too late for any treatment to be worthwhile. Also, I have a gut feeling she's afraid of something that she feels she has no control over. If I can find her, I might be able to talk to her.”

“Okay, I'll trust your instincts and back off for now – but I can't wait forever. Let me know what you find.”

Next, Braxton called his friend on the force. “Hey Braxton, what's up?” Logan Medina said when he answered. “It's not like you to call this early in the day.”

“I need a huge favour, Logan”, he said to the detective and proceeded to tell him about Marissa/June. He gave his friend all the info he had on her, including the address and phone number he had for her.

“Leave it with me, but it might take a couple days.”

“That's fine. I've talked Dr Maynard into holding off on filling out the forms for involuntary admission.”

“I'll get back to you as soon as I find something out.”

Braxton put all thoughts of Marissa/June out of his mind. He had to compartmentalize in order to give 100% of his attention to the patient on the couch. Anything less would not be fair to the patient. He had a full day of sessions, but was done by 6:00 - no evening appointments today. Logan called him just as his last patient was leaving. “I'm afraid I don't have good news for you, my friend.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing, essentially. She is not at the address she gave the hospital. The gentleman who answered the buzzer said he'd never heard of her – under either ID.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“I also called the taxi companies and got their records for calls from the hospital and within a three block radius for yesterday - from an hour before you discovered her missing up to midnight. There were a few from the hospital, and one from a coffee shop a couple blocks away. I tried that first to see if the clerk remembered her and she did. She asked the clerk to call a cab for her, but the clerk did not remember where she said she was going.

“One taxi company has a record for a call at that location at about the same time. The address given to dispatch as the destination address was an apartment building near the address the hospital has. There isn't anyone of either of her names living there and the superintendent says there are no women there who walk with the type of crutches she uses. There are no records of cabs picking someone up at that location at that time of night, so I'm afraid I'm almost at a dead end. I am waiting for a call from the cab driver to see if he noticed if she went in the building or not, but either way, the end result is the same – a dead end.”

Braxton sighed. “Thanks, Logan. I'm disappointed, but not surprised.”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help more, Braxton. I'll let you know if I hear back from the taxi driver.”

Braxton sat and thought for a few minutes. Then he got his laptop out and went to Google. He looked for and found a phone number listing site for Alberta, Canada, where he entered Marissa's last name – Brennan. A few entries came up, most for the town of Edson. That looked familiar, he thought it might be the town on her driver's licence. He called the first number and spoke with a woman who identified herself as Brooke, a cousin of Marissa's. Braxton told her who he was and said he'd met Marissa the previous day but was unable to reach her at the number she'd given him.

“Dr. Jagger, nobody knows where Marissa is. She disappeared about three years ago with no trace. We have not heard from her since.”

“Can you give me her parents' number? I have some numbers in front of me on the Google site, but it would save me from calling them if you could give it to me.”

“I have their number, but I don't want you to upset her parents. They have gone through hell worrying about Marissa.”

“I will be very sensitive, Brooke. And I think I can reassure them that Marissa is okay.” He went on to tell her of meeting Marissa the previous day. He used her story of having the wrong address and didn't tell her about “June” or of taking Marissa to the hospital. Brooke gave him the number and he thanked her profusely before hanging up. He felt a little guilty for his lie about her being okay. Physically, she was not.

Braxton spoke with Marissa's father and learned a bit about her, but nothing that would help him find her. “She just disappeared one day”, Gael Brennan told him after Braxton had introduced himself and told him why he was calling. “We haven't heard a word from her since.”

“If you don't mind my asking, what kind of relationship did you have with her?”

“Can you tell me why you want to know?”

Braxton went through the events of the previous day, but he did not tell the man about his daughter's tumour. He didn't want to worry him, he was going through enough with her disappearance. As with Brooke, he said Marissa had gotten a wrong address. “I'm really concerned about her and would like to find her. There was something about her that tells me she was afraid of something or someone. I just want to make sure she's safe.” He instantly regretting saying the last two sentences – he hadn't wanted to cause Gael more worry.

“I wish I could help you. We'd like to know she's safe, too. To answer your question, we had a great relationship with her, as we do with her 8 siblings. We're a tight knit family.”

“I don't want to upset you, but can you tell me the circumstances around her disappearance?”

“You aren't upsetting me. I'm happy to tell you, in case it can help find her. She left work one day and went home to her place a few miles from here and nobody saw her again.”

“You know she made it home?”

“Yes. Her car was there. But her horses and steer were still in the pasture so we knew she had not fed them yet. She always brought them in at night. There was no sign of forced entry to her house, but there were strange tire marks in the laneway. Her purse was gone, so she must have left on her own. The police had no leads. They tried putting it on Crime Stoppers, but did not have any luck. What is she doing down there? Is she okay?”

“She told me she's in the travel industry.”

“That is strange. She never had any interest in travel.”

“As far as I could see, she seemed okay, except for that gut feeling that she's afraid of something. Maybe me”, he joked, trying to relieve the tension. “Mr. Brennan, did she walk with forearm crutches?”

“Yes, for about six months before she disappeared.”

“What happened?”

“She was run off the road on her way to work one day. There were three of them – big burly men. A couple dragged her out of her car – she had locked it but they broke the glass and got in. They dragged her out and two held her down while the third cut her Achilles tendons. He didn't just cut them, he cut a piece out of each one, making reattachment more difficult. She hasn't been able to maintain her balance on her own since. The crutches are the only way she can walk.”

“My God...” Braxton said. “Why?”

“A motive was never found. But once she got out of rehab, she went back to her farm. She couldn't clean stalls, so a bunch of us – family and friends – took turns every day going out to do them – there were only three to do. But Marissa did as much as she could. She adapted and found a way to feed them on her own. She's a very independent woman.”

Braxton was thinking while he listened – in his profession, you had to be able to do both at once. “Do you think that was related to her disappearance?”

“The police have wondered the same, but can't find a connection. Did you say you're a psychologist?”

“Yes.”

“But my daughter is not your patient?”

“No. She had a wrong address and ended up at my office building.” It wasn't really a lie, since Marissa had told him she had a wrong address, and it appeared she'd chosen to not accept his professional services.

“Can I ask what your professional opinion is of her? Since there's no patient confidentiality at play.”

“Obviously, I don't know her very well. Let me assure you, though, that your daughter is okay – she's not suicidal or anything like that.” Another lie. He hated being untruthful, but he hated causing people worry even more.

They talked for a couple more minutes, then hung up after each promising to call the other if he heard from Marissa. Braxton sat in his chair, thinking. He was no closer to finding Marissa, but at least he knew a bit more about her, including the fact that Marissa was her real name. He wondered why she was using an alias and how she had managed to get insurance under that alias. He'd had to show ID when he got his.

He wondered once again what she was so afraid of. Was it the men who had caused her disability? Or whoever was involved in her disappearance? Had she managed to get away from them and was afraid of them finding her? Resigning himself to the fact he may never get his questions answered, he got up and went to the kitchen to make a late supper.

===========================================================================

Marissa answered the knock at her door. It was Brian from the Cartel. His job was to make sure the mules were set up in apartments, give them their assignments, arrange travel etc. This Cartel was different than most – it “took care” of it's mules, if such a thing was possible. Of course, after they beat them into submission if they didn't work willingly. The people running it did not want them to be getting caught – that meant finding new ones and also a risk that they would rat them out in a plea deal. Not to mention the loss of the drugs that got seized. Brian had keys to the building and to her apartment, but he had never come over before. He always contacted her through a burner phone. “Hello, Brian”, she said.

“May I come in?” He was being polite. Of course, he would come in whether she liked it or not.

They sat down in the living room. Normally, Brian would not go beyond just inside the door of a mule's apartment if he did visit, but he knew “June” had difficulty standing for any length of time. The Cartel never used their real names. Each one had an alias they only used for things like insurance and communication with their superiors. They had separate aliases to use on “trips”, these were “throw away” aliases that were only used for a year or so and never the same one for two trips in a row. This way they did not arouse suspicions for travelling too much.

“June”, he began “I had a visit from a detective earlier today.” Brian stayed at the apartment the mules used as an address. “He was looking for you. He asked for June Rivers or Marissa Brennan.”

Marissa's heart almost stopped. “Wh-what did he want?” she asked, trepidatiously. “I haven't broken the law...well, except for ...”

“No, no ...nothing like that. He said some doctor was concerned about you.”

“Did he give you the doctor's name?”

“He did, but I can't remember it. Are you okay, June?”

“I'm fine. They are trying to talk me into a procedure I don't want.”

“If anyone is bothering you, you know we can take care of it.” Marissa knew what he meant by “take care of it” and she shuddered.

“No, it's okay. They mean well.”

“What kind of procedure do they want you to have?”

“It's ….uh … female stuff.”

“Say no more.” Brian reacted the way she'd hoped he would. Most men didn't like talking about women's health issues. “Is it life threatening?”

“No”, she lied again. “Just annoying.”

“You know we want you to be in tip top shape, so if you need a few weeks to deal with this, we can arrange that. You have insurance, so cost is not an issue.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Marissa hated being nice to these people, but she had no choice.

“Are you okay to go tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, I am fine. The trouble only happens at that time of the month.”

“If you have any problems, let us know. Good luck with it.”

A week later, she was on the flight home. As usual, she had had no trouble getting through customs, even though there were a few dozen capsules coursing through her intestines and stuffed up her behind. She always chose a pat down instead of an x-ray – they couldn't feel them on a pat down but they would be able to see them on an x-ray. She hated this, it was so humiliating.

During the flight, she tried to come up with a way out of this. Short of turning herself in once the plane landed in Denver, she could think of nothing. In some ways, she thought, prison would be preferable to this, but she did not want the shame it would bring on her family back home. This was why she had chosen to not have the biopsy or treatment for the tumour on her kidney. She was hoping it was cancer and if it was, she'd die from it. Suicide was out of the question – the Cartel would take it out on her parents and siblings. If she died of natural causes, they wouldn't do anything.

That was one of the reasons she had backed out of seeing Dr Braxton Jagger. If she slipped and let it out that she wanted to die, he'd have Dr Maynard fill out the involuntary admission form and force treatment on her. She was reasonably sure they would not find her, but she did not want the police showing up at Brian's apartment looking for her. Unfortunately, they did – after her disappearing from the hospital. Thank God Brian bought her story about “female trouble”.

The main reason she'd backed out was she could not take the chance of anything about the Cartel slipping out. Surely, he would turn her in if it did. She knew about patient confidentiality, but did that include highly illegal acts? She doubted it. Though even if he couldn't turn her in, there was always a chance he would do it anonymously with a call to Crime Stoppers. She just could not take the chance.

The plane landed and she disembarked with her escort, Tomas. The Cartel always sent someone to escort the female mules back. They posed as a married couple to lessen the chance of sticking out to the border agents. The escort also accompanied the mule to her home and waited for her to pass the drugs.

Back at her apartment, Marissa took some laxatives to hurry things along and told Tomas she wanted to lie down for a bit. He sat on a chair outside her bedroom door, but allowed her to close it for privacy. She checked the voicemail on her “June” phone. Two messages from Braxton and one from Dr Maynard. Maynard sounded really pissy and threatened to commit her involuntarily if she did not call him back. Braxton's messages had a kinder tone, but he did say that if she didn't call back, Dr Maynard was going to have the police pick her up.

Next, she checked her “Janice” phone. She used this one for things not related to the Cartel or the June identity and she used the name Janice for them. There were three messages from Braxton, expressing concern for her well being. How the hell did he get this number? She wondered. She had not given it to him. This was the phone she had with her when she'd gone to his office. Had he looked at it while she was in his bathroom? She was steaming with anger at the apparent violation of her privacy.

When the laxatives took effect, she went to the bathroom. She hated this part almost as much as ingesting the balloons. She did what she had to do, then called Tomas in to collect the capsules that she had laid out on her vanity. He counted them, then counted again. “You are one short”, he said.

“That's all there were”, she replied.

He counted a third time. “Where is the other one?” he asked, irritation in his voice.

“I … I don't know. That's all there were.”

Tomas reached into his pocket. “Don't lie to me!” he yelled as he took out a set of brass knuckles and put them on his hand.