“What happened, Braxton?” Marissa asked.

“Something hit me in the back.”

“Let me see.”

“No, you get going down the hall. I will shield you until you are out of the room.”

“Let me see first.”

“Marissa! Go!” he commanded in a whisper.

“Not until you let me see.”

“Geez, Marissa, you are stubborn.” He let her look at his back.

“There's a shard of glass embedded in there”, she said.

“I'll get Gavin to take it out.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“I need you to get out of this room, and then I will call 911.”

“The shots have stopped.” They could hear voices and shouting outside. Someone yelled “Stay the fuck away from my wife, you quack!” Marissa looked at Braxton. He had a strange look on his face. She couldn't make it out. Was he boffing some guy's wife? He didn't seem the type.

“I still have to call.”

“No cops”, she commanded.

“Marissa, the police *have* to come.”

“Then tell them there's nobody here with you. I cannot talk to them.”

“I'm not going to lie if they ask if there was someone here with me when it happened. Now, get going.”

“Hand me my crutch.”

“I'll throw it partway down the hall, so you're out of sight of the window by the time you stand up. If you can't stand up on your own, wait for me.”

Marissa tried crawling to the hall, but she couldn't do it using only one hand, so she lay down and tried pulling herself along. The carpet was too much, though, so she had to lean on her forearms and go that way. It was putting pressure on her broken wrist, but she couldn't help it. She finally got to her crutch and used it to get up. She could hear Braxton talking to the 911 dispatcher. Someone knocked on the front door. She walked as fast as she could to her room and closed the door behind her.

Sitting down on her bed, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, which Braxton had pushed out to prevent her from hitting her arm on during a dream. She called Brian, hoping he answered and also hoping he had nothing to do with this.

“Hello, June. Are you okay?” he asked when he answered.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Someone just shot Braxton's picture window out while we were watching tv!”

“June, slow down. What did you say happened?”

“Someone shot at us while we were watching tv! Brian, I have to ask – did you have anything to do with this?”

“For God's sake, June – no, I did not. Why would I?”

“I don't know. I was just making sure. Braxton is calling 911 and the police will be coming.”

“You cannot talk to them!”

“I know! I told him that – no, I didn't tell him why. He said he will not lie if they ask if anyone else was in the house at the time.”

“June, we can come get you.”

“You wouldn't have time, Brian. I hear sirens already and I don't want any more violence here tonight. Don't worry, I'll think of something to tell them if they ask personal questions.”

“I don't like this, June.”

“I'll be okay.”

“Call me after the police are gone.”

She ended the call and sat a moment. She realized there was no way she could stay there. Talking to the cops was not an option. If they asked her where she worked or asked for proof she was in the country legally, she was screwed. She put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed her purse and went to the window. It looked out onto the side of the neighbour's house. She opened it and tried the screen to see if she could remove it. It moved. She took it off and set it down on the floor. Then she threw her crutch and purse out and lifted herself up by her hands. Ungodly pain went through her wrist but she hung on. She dropped down outside and lay on the ground for a moment, then got her things and got up. As fast as she could, she started walking across back yards. Fortunately, few people in this neighbourhood fenced in their yards. She hoped against hope that nobody had let their dogs out. Luck was on her side.

Marissa came to the last house on the block. She was afraid to cross the street – someone might see her. So she looked around for a place to hide. Her eyes fell on a large doghouse. There was a flap over the opening. She didn't see a chain and with no fence, a chain would be the only way to keep the dog at home. She also did not see any food or water dishes. She walked over to it and cautiously pulled the flap back, once again using her bad arm. Thankfully, the moon was full so she could see. The doghouse was empty, so she crawled in and lay down, curling up into a ball as there was not a lot of room. She would stay here until the excitement on the street died down.

She had no idea what she was going to do. Forgetting that Braxton still had her keys, she thought she might call a cab and go home. She couldn't stay there as Braxton knew where she lived and he would give the address to the cops. But she could grab some clothes and more money from her safe. She could go to a hotel until she figured things out. She would take a set of ID that she used on trips and use that name. Braxton didn't know about her other aliases, just the June one. Marissa hated the thought of doing this to him, but she had no choice. Talking to the cops would risk exposing things such as the Cartel and her status in the country – she didn't exactly arrive there legally. She was reasonably sure that if she told the officer her whole story, she might be able to stay out of trouble, but then they'd go after the Cartel and the Cartel would go after her family. She could not let that happen.

The cold was getting to her. It was a crisp fall night and she hadn't taken a sweater or her coat. She lay there shivering, listening to the noises from the street, and eventually fell asleep.

No sooner had Braxton made the call to 911 than he heard a knock at the door. Answering it, he found a neighbour from across the street. “Are you all right?” Ivan Briggs asked.

“I'm fine”, Braxton answered. “Just a little shook up.” He didn't tell Ivan about being hit by glass.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thanks for offering, Ivan.”

“Let me know if you think of anything. In the meantime, don't worry about your window tonight. A few of us around the neighbourhood are looking in our workshops for some plywood. We'll board it up for you after the police are finished here.”

“That is very kind of you. Thanks, I appreciate it.” Ivan left and Braxton hurried down the hall to check on Marissa just as Denver's finest pulled up. He opened the door to the master bedroom and was struck with a blast of cool air. He looked at the empty bed, then at the open window. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath. He hurried to close the window and move the screen to behind his dresser, just in case the officers wanted to look around. He heard knocking at the front door, so he exited the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

Officer Klein interviewed him, while his partner looked around. Braxton told him what had happened, leaving out the part about Marissa being there. “Is there anyone here with you?” the officer asked.

“No. I live alone.” He wasn't lying – he did live alone and at present, nobody else was in the house.

“Are you injured?”

“I think something hit my back, but I feel fine other than a bit of pain.”

“Let me see.” Braxton turned around and the officer saw the shard of glass. “You have a somewhat large piece of glass sticking out from your back. I'll call for an ambulance.”

“No, don't trouble them. I'll call a friend to come pull it out – he's a doctor.”

“It's no trouble, it's what they are here for.”

“I know, but I don't want to leave my house right now.”

“If you are sure...”

“I am.”

“All right, but we have to get pictures of both before and after it's removed, so please call your friend now. I see the crime scene truck is here. Oh, is there anyone who would have a grudge against you?”

“I'm a psychologist. At any given time, at least one of my patients is angry with me.”

“I'll need a list of any who are currently mad at you.”

“I can't give you that. Patient confidentiality.”

“You said someone yelled to stay away from his wife. Are you having an affair with anyone?”

“No.”

“Is there anyone who may think you are?”

Braxton suddenly remembered something. He had a patient who was experiencing “erotic transference”, where the patient develops sexual feelings for his/her therapist. However, he had not laid a hand on her.

“Dr Jagger?”

“I don't know. Maybe.” He explained erotic transference to the officer. “I don't know if my patient has said anything to her husband. Or if he would go off like this. I can't give you her name, though.”

“If we get no other leads, we may have to get a warrant for your files.”

“You do what you have to do, Officer. If you're finished with me, I'd like to call my friend.”

Gavin was in the city – he lived in the country – visiting another friend and was just leaving, so he got there quickly, even including a stop at his office to pick up some supplies. “I hope you don't mind if I bring Cooter in with me”, he said to Braxton. “The wife is out with some of her friends and he doesn't like being left at home for long, so I brought him with me.” Cooter was his hunting dog.

“As long as he stays out of the officers' hair, it's fine.”

“He won't be any trouble. I'll have him lie down near me and he'll stay, he's well trained.” They went to the kitchen where Gavin got to work on Braxton's back. Once he had his shirt off, he could see there were a few scratches besides the main cut. “You're lucky this isn't worse, my friend.”

The police photographer took her pictures and left the room. When they were alone, Braxton told Gavin about Marissa, speaking in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “I didn't have time to check to see if she was gone or lying under the window, injured.”

“The police are all around, so if she was still around, they'd have found her.”

“I wish I knew where she went. I don't know if she'd go to her apartment if she doesn't want to talk to the police – she may think I would give them the address. I'm really worried, Gavin . She needs her antibiotics in the morning, so I need to find her by then.”

“Do you want me to stay awhile when I'm finished patching you up? Maybe we can try calling her, if she took her phone.”

“You don't have to, Gavin, but I'd appreciate it.”

The cops finally left and the neighbours got Braxton's window boarded up. When he and Gavin were alone, he tried to call Marissa, but she didn't answer. He checked her room to see if her phone was there, but he couldn't find it. He tried to call her landline, but got no answer there either.

“Could she be there, but just not answering?” Gavin asked.

“I don't know if she would have gone home, but yes, it's possible. She doesn't answer when she's avoiding someone. I think I will go over there and check. Oh wait, no point, I have her keys.”

“Why do you have her keys?”

“She gave them to me so I wouldn't have to ring the buzzer when I picked her up to go for those x rays and then to your office. She's been with me ever since and I forgot all about giving them back. If she can't get into her apartment, where could she have gone?”

“Braxton, I have an idea. Let's see if Cooter can track her. He's been a search & rescue dog before. At least then, we'll know which direction she went.”

“That's a good idea, Gavin.”

“Get me something of hers. An item of clothing she's worn, that her scent would be on.”

Braxton got Marissa's night shirt and they went outside. When they were under the window she had climbed out of, Gavin let Cooter sniff her garment, then gave the command to track. The dog led them through backyards, the same way Marissa had gone. Cooter tracked her right to the dog house she was sleeping in. When he reached it, he sat down, indicating she was inside.

Braxton pulled the flap aside and looked in with his flashlight. He saw Marissa, all curled up. She appeared to be sleeping. “Marissa”, he said quietly. “Wake up, honey.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. He could see fear in them. “Come on out.” She shook her head no and tried to move further back, but there was no room. “It's okay. Everybody's gone except me – and Gavin.” He knelt down on the ground.

“They will be looking for me.” She began to tremble.

“Who? The police? They don't know about you. I didn't tell them.” He held his hand out to her.

“You said ....”

“I didn't lie. Now, come on out. Please.” Marissa began to inch forward. Braxton saw her wince with pain. When she got to the opening, he pulled her out and took her into his arms. She began to cry. “Hey, hey, it's all right”, he said to her. Why is she so afraid of the police? he wondered, then it struck him. If she was involved in something illegal – or even just shady – of course she would not want to talk to law enforcement. For the thousandth time, he wished she would open up to him.

When she had settled down, he suggested they head back to his house. “I want Gavin to look at you before he goes home, if he will.”

“I'm fine, Braxton.”

“You let Gavin be the judge of that. I can see that your wrap is dirty and has come undone. Do you have a clean wrap for it?” he asked his friend.

“I do and Marissa, I concur with Braxton – I need to take a look at that wrist.”

“Can you walk partway?” Braxton asked. She nodded. “I know you can't walk far with just one crutch, so I will carry you the rest of the way when you reach your limit. I think we should go around by the road instead of prowling through back yards.”

Back at Braxton's, Gavin cleaned up Marissa's arm and put clean gauze and wrap on it. He checked her IV line and flushed it to make sure it was still in place. “I don't like what I see, Marissa”, he told her. “I'm going to add another antibiotic for you to take twice a day. You can do it at the same time as the one you're already on.”

“How do I do both at the same time?”

“Do one right after the other. Your line is secure so I do not want to take it out to put one with two ports in. If we can't get a vein or it collapses, you only have one arm to work with. Is Braxton helping you with it?”

“Oh, yes. I can't do it by myself.”

“Good. Braxton, just do the same as you've been doing, only you'll be doing two infusions instead of one. Clean the port and flush the line before hooking up the second infusion. I want Marissa to get that wrist x-rayed tomorrow. Do you have a fax machine at home?”

“I do.”

“I'll fax the requisition in the morning. Text me the number.”

“Is there a reason you want it done?”

“I want to make sure she didn't injure it during her escapade tonight.”

“Okay, that's probably a good idea. It's really late now and we'll likely be a while longer getting to bed, so it won't be until afternoon.”

“That is fine as long as it's done tomorrow. If her pain increases during the night, get her to the ER.”

Gavin left, taking Cooter with him. “I need a shower, I'm filthy”, Marissa said.

“You do, but I'm not asking Gail to come over to help you at this hour – it's after 1:00. Besides, I think she's working tonight.”

“It's okay. I will manage.”

“You can't do it on your own. I will help you.”

“Thank you, but no, I can do it.”

“How? You can only use one hand. Why don't you want me to help?”

“I ... I don't want you to see ....” She let the sentence trail off.

“Your body?” Marissa nodded. Braxton sighed. “I've been around the block a few times, Marissa. I've seen naked female bodies before.”

“Probably a lot nicer than mine!” she blurted out.

“Marissa, where did that come from?”

“I know I'm too thin.”

“That doesn't matter. Not one bit. I don't judge people based on their looks or body size. If the shoe was on the other foot and I needed help bathing, would you judge my body size?” He patted his belly for emphasis.

“No, of course not.”

“Then please believe me when I say I won't judge you. And you do not have to worry about me making advances toward you. That's not going to happen. Not that you aren't desirable”, he hastened to add. “But this isn't the time. So, what do you say? Will you let me help?”

“All right”, she gave in.

Braxton gave her as much privacy as he could. He washed her hair and her back, then soaped up the wash cloth for her and handed it to her, standing behind her while she washed her front. At first, she was tense but she began to relax as they chit chatted about this and that. After a bit, she asked “Braxton, are you banging some guy's wife?”

“No! Why would you ask that?”

“Someone told you to stay away from his wife after the shooting stopped earlier.”

“Oh, that. No, I'm not.”

“Why would he say that?”

“If he's who I think he is, his wife has a thing for me. It's called 'erotic transference' and it happens with therapists more often than you would think. I don't know if she told him and he thinks something is happening or what.”

“Did you tell the cops?”

“I can't give their names to anyone because of patient confidentiality. Only if someone is in danger can I do that.”

“You are in danger! He tried to kill you!”

“I think he was just trying to scare me. Of course, you were in danger as well, we were both in danger even if he wasn't trying to hit me.”

“And you did get hurt by that piece of glass.”

“I know, but the danger has passed.”

“Is he your patient, too?”

“No, just his wife.”

“Then surely you could give the cops his name, even if you don't tell them why you think it might be him.”

“I don't know – I'd have to get legal advice. Her next appointment with me is Tuesday, I'm going to ask her if she knows anything about it and if she says it was him, I will ask her to try to get him to turn himself in.”

“And if he won't?”

“I don't know. I have to think about it.”

“Braxton, you have been so good to me, but I'm scared to be here right now.”

He reached for the hand held shower hose and sighed. “I am, too, sweetie”, he said as he rinsed off her back.

“You are?” she took the shower head from him and used it to rinse off her front.

“Yes, I am. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I should be positive for you. But I'm human and I'll be uneasy until the shooter is caught.” He turned off the water and got Marissa's towel. “Can you towel yourself off with just one hand?”

“It's a little awkward, but yes.” Braxton helped with her back, but let her do her front. He didn't want to make her any more self conscious than she already was. When she was finished, he helped her out of the tub and took the plastic bag off her arm. He helped her get her nightshirt on. “Okay, I'm going to have a shower in the house bathroom. Are you okay to finish your nightly routine by yourself?”

“Oh, yes.”

“When you are finished, get into the bed in the guest room. I don't want you to sleep in the master bedroom tonight.”

“Why not?”

“If the shooter comes back and knows the floor plan of the house, he might shoot through the window in there, thinking I'm in my bed. I don't want him to shoot you.”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“On the floor of the guest room. We are both on edge and I think we'll feel better with each other in the room.”

They finally got to bed around 3am but Braxton was woken up by screams a couple hours later. Marissa was thrashing about again but this time her screams were louder and more terrifying than before. He sat on the bed and woke her up. “Marissa, wake up! You're dreaming again.”

She stopped thrashing and sat up. “I was dreaming?” she asked, with fear in her eyes.

“Yes, you were.”

“Oh, thank God it was just a dream!”

“What was it about? Do you remember?”

“Someone was shooting out the bedroom window and then they climbed in through it.”

“Oh, Marissa”, he said as she fell against him and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I'm sorry for waking you up yet again.”

“Don't worry about that. I'm worried about you having so many nightmares. You really need to talk to someone.”

“My boss is trying to find someone.”

“I know, but he isn't succeeding. Let me refer you to someone.”

“I promised you I would if he can't.”

“I'm holding you to that. Now, lie down and go back to sleep.”

“I think I will stay up.” She tried to get out of bed, but Braxton held her back.

“No, you need more sleep.”

“I don't think I can. Sleep, that is.”

“Try. You've had a tiring night.” He got his blanket and pillow from the floor and lay on the bed, putting his arm around her. He sang to her until she fell asleep. Then he lay awake, trying to figure out how to handle this situation. He needed to talk to his patient with the erotic transference and find out if she told her husband and what his reaction was. If it wasn't him, he had no idea who would think he was messing around with his wife.