On the way to the hospital, Braxton again tried to talk to Marissa about her kidney tumour.

“I do not have a tumour!” she said.

“Still in denial, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Marissa, you and I both know you are 'June' – why you are using an alias, I have no idea - but the scans are the same. You have a tumour and if it's cancer, you need to get it taken care of as soon as possible – before it's too late.”

“Braxton, stop that right now. Or I'll bail, whether or not the car is in motion.” She put her hand on the door handle. Seconds later, she heard the click of the lock engaging. Damn new cars, she thought to herself. The driver can lock the doors and you can't unlock them.

“I will stop for now, but we are going to talk about this another day.”

“I am not your patient, Braxton.”

“You have made that quite clear. You don't have to be for us to talk.”

“Why do you even care? You don't know me.”

“I'd like to know you.”

“I-I can't do this. Let me out, please. I'll take a cab home.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“No ... I-I can't. I shouldn't have agreed to go.”

“Why can't you?”

“It's forbidden.”

“Forbidden? By whom?”

“I can't say.”

“Can't or won't?”

“Both. It's for your protection. And now I've said too much. Just trust me. Please let me out.”

“If I do that, I will have to call Dr Maynard and have him put that psych hold on you.”

She had been afraid he'd say that. “Good luck finding me.”

“You gave me your address, remember?”

“I gave you a wrong address.”

“I don't believe you, Marissa. We're here”, he said as he pulled into the parking lot by the ER entrance. He found a spot and parked. “Wait here, I'm going to get a wheelchair for you.”

Marissa fumed. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to Brian. If her wrist was broken, surely they would put a cast on it and she wouldn't be able to hide it if he came to her place to check on her. She felt bad for not being nicer to Braxton – he was being so kind to her and she was very tempted to tell him everything, but she couldn't risk his life.

He came back with the wheelchair and she got in. “I can't stay long”, he said. “I have a patient coming in a half hour. I will be in sessions until 6:00, then I will come and see how you are doing. If they release you before then, wait for me and I will take you home.”

“I need my crutches.”

“They are in my trunk and will stay there until I pick you up. That's my insurance that you won't take off again.”

“I have a spare set at home.”

“You won't be able to leave here and get to your apartment without them. But just in case you find a way – and remind me to ask you how you got away last time – what is your apartment number?”

“813”

He squatted down in front of her. “Look me in the eye and tell me your real apartment number. And remember that I'm a trained professional. I know when someone is lying.”

“No.”

“I don't like playing hardball, but I will if I have to. You tell me your apartment number or I call Dr Maynard right now and have him put that hold on you.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I am trying to help you, but you are opposing me at every turn. I'm not an ogre, Marissa. I care and I know there's something you are keeping from me. I want to talk more, but I don't have time right now. I need to get you inside and registered and I want to see if Brody is working today. So, what is your apartment number?”

“501”, she replied in a barely audible voice.

“Okay, let's get in there.”

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While Marissa waited to register, Braxton looked for Brody Pratt. He found the physician in the staff break room. “Braxton, we have to stop meeting like this”, his old friend greeted him.

“I need a favour, Brody. I'm here with Marissa again. What did you put on her chart last time?”

“I flagged it so that if she comes back, Maynard will be called.”

“Brody! I asked you not to.”

“I could only let it go so long, Braxton. You hadn't heard from her, and he was on my ass to do it. After a week, I had to.”

“How did he know she was here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Can you take the flag off?”

“No. If I did, Maynard would have my head. Why is she here this time?”

“Never mind. We're leaving.”

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Braxton found Marissa still waiting to be registered. He stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed it toward the door. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“We're leaving.” He took her back out to the car. As he pulled out of the parking space, his phone rang. He looked at the display. “I have to take this”, he said as he drove back into the spot. “It's my next patient.” When he was finished with the call, he said “She is running late, so she's going to come tomorrow instead. It's a light day for me, just two patients on Fridays and I do paperwork the rest of the morning, then knock off for the weekend.

“This gives us some time. I'm going to go to Gavin's clinic and see if he can see you. I'll also borrow a wheelchair from him. Then I'm going to take you to your place. Think you will be okay until 6:00?”

“Of course I'll be okay. But why did we leave the hospital?”

“There's a flag on your file in the computer. If you are seen, Dr Maynard is to be called.”

“You have been threatening to call him anyway.”

“I know, but I had to find a way to get you to tell me your apartment number. I don't want you admitted involuntarily. I haven't given up on you.” Marissa sighed. “Look, right now my concern is your wrist. Let's get that looked at and we'll talk about the other stuff over the weekend. I am going to trust you – that you will stay put at your home and that you will let me in when I come back. In return for that trust, I want you to think about coming clean with me. Okay?”

Marissa nodded. “Braxton, I want to tell you everything, but I'm so scared. I don't want you to get harmed.”

“I don't know why I would be harmed, but don't you worry about me. Here, we're at Gavin's. I'll be right back.”

He returned with a wheelchair and holding a piece of paper. He put the folded up chair in the back seat and got in the car. “Gavin filled out a requisition for x-rays. When I pick you up at 6, we'll go to a lab that's open late and get them done and they are to email him the results right away. Then we are going to see him and he will look at you and, depending on the results of the radiographs, figure out what to do next. Does that sound like a plan?”

“Sure.”

“There's something I'd like you to think about.”

“What's that?” she asked, warily.

“Spending the weekend at my place.”

“I don't know, Braxton – I really don't want to go up those stairs again today.”

“I don't live at the office, remember? I have a house, it's only one storey – not counting the basement. And just a small step to get in.”

“You are already doing so much for me, I don't want to be even more trouble.”

“It is no trouble. You won't have to worry about cooking, cleaning or anything else. Just relax. If you decide to come, get together what clothing and toiletries you need for a few days – unless you need help doing it - and we'll go straight there from Gavin's office.”

Braxton took Marissa up to her apartment. Getting the wheelchair from Gavin served two purposes – Marissa needed it and it ensured that she had given him the right apartment number if he took her to her door. He was almost certain she had been telling the truth but one never knows for sure. Some people are very good at lying. But she had looked him in the eye and most people don't want to do that when they lie.

He was elated that she had agreed to get the x-rays and then see Gavin afterward, but he didn't know if she would follow through. He half expected she wouldn't, and he didn't think that she would agree to spend the weekend at his place.

In the elevator, Marissa said “You can take the wheelchair back – I have one of my own.”

“Do you use it often?”

“Yes, I use it at home when I'm cleaning or cooking something – though I don't cook very much.”

“What do you eat?”

“Usually a few crackers. Once in a while I will order out.”

“You don't like cooking?”

“It's just too hard to manage.”

Good Lord, he thought. No wonder she's so thin. She needs better nutrition than that.

They were at her door. Braxton took the key from Marissa and unlocked it, then pushed her through. He glanced around and was surprised to see how neat and clean it was. “How do you manage cleaning?”

“I do what I can from the chair and a lady comes in once a week to do what I can't.” The Cartel paid for this service. Reasons were twofold – they had caused her handicap and also, by paying, they selected who to hire. They looked for women who spoke very little English – that lessened the chances of them talking to others about their clients. The cleaners did not know about the Cartel. Nevertheless, they were sworn to secrecy and the mules were instructed to not have anything laying out in the open that would indicate what they did - it was best to take no chances.

“Where would you like me to leave you?”

“In the bedroom. I'm going to lie down for a while.”

He got her settled on her bed, then asked for her phone. “I'm going to put my numbers – cell and office phone – in your contacts. I have them turned off when I'm with a patient but if you need to call, leave a message – I check them in between sessions. I want you to call if you start feeling worse or get into any kind of distress.”

“You won't be able to do anything until after your last patient.”

“I will come if you are in need, even if I have to cancel someone last minute. Or you could call an ambulance and go to the hospital. If you do that, call me and leave a message, okay?” She nodded. “All right, I have to get going, but I will be back to get you between 6 and 6:30. Will you be able to answer the buzzer?”

“Braxton, take my keys. That way I don't have to try to get to it.”

He was sure he looked surprised. He *was* surprised – very surprised. This was a good sign that Marissa was starting to trust him. He accepted the keys, said goodbye and left feeling hopeful that he would be able to get her to talk about her situation over the weekend. If she agreed to stay at his house - he was feeling good about that, too, but he was afraid to get his hopes up too high.

After Braxton left, Marissa fell asleep for a couple hours. Then she freshened up and got some clothing and toiletries together for the weekend. She also took some money out of the small safe she kept in her bedroom closet to pay for the x-rays and the appointment with Gavin. Since she'd been insisting to Braxton that she was not June Rivers, she couldn't very well use her insurance. Fortunately, she had been saving what money she could in the hopes of one day being able to get away from the Cartel, though she doubted that would ever happen. Most of her savings was in the bank, but she kept some in her safe for easy access should she need it.

Finally, she called Brian to let him know she would be away for a few days. He was not very happy at hearing of her plans. “June, you know we do not encourage our workers to form friendships and why.”

“I know, Brian”, she pleaded. “But I really need this. Not just for the contact with another human - I grew up in a large family and am not used to not having people around. Even when I bought my own place, someone was always dropping by. I am hurting way too much to take care of myself right now. This person is going to take me for some x-rays and then to see a doctor to find out if my wrist is broken. I really think it is. I have been kicked by horses and cows and not had this much pain.”

“All right, June. I'll let you go on one condition – that you do not tell your friend a thing about me or the organization.”

“You know I won't, Brian.”

“Take your phone with you in case I need to reach you. Will you tell me his name?”

“I'd rather not, Brian. He doesn't know about you, so it's only fair that that goes both ways.”

“June, if you weren't my best worker, I'd put a stop to this right now. But you have never asked me for anything and you've done your job like a trooper – after we convinced you it was in your family's best interest that you co-operate. And it's our fault that you are injured. So, I'm going to trust you to keep your word about keeping quiet. What does your friend think you do for a living?”

“That I work in the travel industry and am away a lot on business.”

Brian chuckled. “Very good, June. It's not a total lie, yet doesn't give anything away. You enjoy your weekend as much as you can and please call me after you see that doctor. Are you using your insurance?”

“I can't. My friend only knows me by my real name. I didn't want outsiders to have any of my aliases. It's okay, though, I can pay for it.”

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After ending the call, Brian sat for a while, thinking. He was very uneasy about letting "June" spend the weekend with her new friend. He trusted her to not deliberately say anything about him or the Cartel, but oftentimes things slipped out inadvertently when talking to someone you were comfortable with. He contemplated calling his superior to get his input.

He had been told of her history by his superiors. The Cartel had put a lot of time and effort into getting June and getting her to co-operate. One of the head honchos had been on vacation in her area and had seen her. She looked perfect – short, not too heavy, innocent looking. She couldn't put as many capsules into her body as a larger person could, but she was much less likely to be suspected. The Cartel would rather fewer drugs get through at a time than to lose a lot of them and a mule. He followed her home and made note of her address, then had a subordinate follow her and learn her patterns.

To further lessen the chances of her being suspected of drug smuggling when coming home from an assignment, the organization sent three men to cut her Achilles tendons and remove a piece of each one – border agents were unlikely to think a handicapped person would be smuggling. The intent had been to make her completely wheelchair bound, but she surprised them with her determination to walk again. They had some mules whose spinal cords they had severed, which ensured the victim never walked again, but they didn't want to do the same thing to too many people in case the police found a pattern through their computer systems. About half of their mules were handicapped – some were already that way when they were selected. The occasional time when one got caught, it was always someone who was able bodied. Brian was uneasy about crippling people, but this was handled by those higher up than him. He was not part of the decision making in regards to recruiting.

The organization had let June recover and go through rehab in her home community. They wanted to put some time between this and when they kidnapped her to take her to the USA. When she was back home, they sent a couple guys to get her and take her across the border. They had already had identification made in the name of June Rivers. She was told that if she even thought of creating a fuss at the border, they would shoot her without hesitation.

Marissa was taken to New York City for “orientation and training”. It was at “orientation” that she learned what was expected of her from now on. She told them in no uncertain terms that she would not transport drugs across the border for them and told them where they could go. For that, she was beaten to within an inch of her life and put in a cell to recover before being put in another orientation class. Once again, she refused, with the same result. After the third beating, the Cartel realized they had to use another tactic since beatings had not been effective. She was told that if she did not comply, her parents and siblings would be killed in front of her eyes and not in a humane fashion. That got her attention. She was willing to die to avoid doing what they wanted, but she was not willing to sacrifice her family. So she resigned herself to her fate.

By the time she was assigned to Brian's “team”, Marissa was fully compliant. She had not given him a lick of trouble. He wanted to trust her, but his loyalty was to the organization. With a sigh, he picked up his phone and called his immediate superior.