of us who deal with the alphabet companies all the time, Agency is the CIA, the Bureau is the FBI. Then, of course, there is Homeland and ICE, all of which are self-explanatory.”
“Thanks for the tutelage. What’s this woman’s name?”
“Victoria Marshall.”
Jeremiah connected the dots. “As in the Marshall Ranch?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. Can you send me her records?”
“Nope. Agency won’t release them. You’ll have to do the intake and work up on your own.”
“That puts us both at a disadvantage.” He hated when providers were prevented from sharing information that would help their patients. “I could call her health care provider from the Agency to get a sense of what they’ve done with her in general terms.”
Jamison sighed and cleared his throat. “Remi, the Agency is her biggest problem. They won’t tell you anything.”
“Damn. That sucks for her.”
“It does, which is why I reached out to you, but…”
He looked at the phone. “Yes?”
“We’d want you under contract for at least six months at Hollister. We’d pay you, of course, and help you get your position back in California if the facility managers don’t want to wait for you.”
He pushed his hair off his face and glanced at the rearview mirror. “No, I’m sending in my resignation. I don’t really know what I want to do, but I do know it isn’t going back inside that prison.”
“How are you doing?” Jamison asked, his voice softened when he spoke.
“I’m doing better. Sleeping more, dreaming less. Working at pulling out my emotions one at a time and looking at them.”
“Doctor, heal thyself?” Jamison asked.
“No, more like Doctor, use your skills and work with Jamison to make sure you put this into the proper perspective.”
“I knew I liked you.” The approval in his mentor’s voice was palpable.
“Because I’m awesome. Email me what you can as far as contact information for Ms. Marshall. I’ll set up a place to see her and contact her to work out the time.”
“I’ll send the NDA you’ll need to sign and our contract before I send that information,” Jamison responded.
“We’re still on for our call, right?” Remi asked.
“We are. You may be doing all the right things, but I’m going to make sure they stick.”
Three and a half hours later, with Gen’s truck filled to the top of the bed with wood and a few other items he decided to pick up last minute, he pulled into Tank’s shop. The man who exited the garage didn’t look exactly inviting, but in broad daylight on a busy street, there was little risk of a confrontation.
“Help you?”
“Is Tank here?” Jeremiah closed the truck door and locked it with the fob.
“Yeah, hold on.” The man sauntered back into the shop and Jeremiah leaned against the truck to wait.
Tank ambled out of the office and the frown on his face turned into a smile. “Well, if it isn’t the shrink. How you doing, man?”
Tank offered a hand, and he took it, giving a firm handshake. “Doing well. I was wondering if you had a Hoglet.”
Tank belted out a laugh. “You’re too damn big for that sized bike. You got a kid you’re wanting to teach?”
“She’s not a kid.” Jeremiah leveled a direct stare.
“No shit, your old lady would rather have her own ride. You know that’s what a bitch seat is for, right?”
“Not my old lady, but she’s a feisty lady who knows motorcycles and loves to ride. She’s about…” Jeremiah put his hand up to just below his pecs. “…this tall. She had a 350cc growing up, but she could handle a 500.”
Tank rubbed the back of his neck with a shop rag. “I don’t have any, but I have a Royal in the back. The thing’s scratched to shit, but it runs. The owner laid it down when he was trying to pass a car up in the Hills. Lucky for the bastard he shot across the pavement to a lookout. Stupid fucker convinced himself the reason he went down was because his bike wasn’t powerful enough.”
“So, no one ever told him about controlling the bike?”
“Right? Like I said, he was a stupid fucker. Follow me.”
Jeremiah chuckled as he walked into and through the shop with Tank. “What did you sell him?”
“Exactly what he wanted, way too much bike even for a man with his ego. He totaled that bike two days later and landed in the hospital with two broken legs and a broken arm.” Tank shrugged. “I got paid, the dipshit is alive, and life goes on.” He followed Tank to the