Invisible

Invisible

L.A. Remenicky

Lavish Publishing, Midland Texas

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

INVISIBLE. Copyright 2014 ©

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Lavish Publishing, LLC.

Second Edition

2016 Lavish Publishing, LLC

All Rights Reserved

Published in the United States by Lavish Publishing, LLC, Midland, Texas

Cover Design by: Wycked Ink

Cover Images: Adobe Stock

Paperback ISBN

ISBN-13: 978-1532896033

ISBN-10: 1532896034 

www.LavishPublishing.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

About the Author

Chapter 1

“Dr. Parker? Your four o’clock appointment is here.” Sheila’s announcement made me jump, and when I looked at the clock, I realized how much time had passed while losing myself deep in thought. This was the last appointment of the week, and I was ready for a couple of days off to unwind.

I shuffled the papers on my desk and found the new patient file I’d been reading when Sheila called. The file included official documents from the police department’s Internal Affairs division for a psychological evaluation. I’d seen several of these orders over the years. It was protocol whenever an active officer was wounded in the line of duty and was required before they’re allowed to return to work. I reached for the folder and pressed the intercom button. “Sheila, please send him in as soon as he’s filled out the insurance paperwork. Thank you.”

She knew to give me a few extra minutes to allow me time to limp to the conversation area to set the stage and sit in my customary spot. I preferred not to begin sessions with the inevitable questions about my own disability. The people who came to see me were in need of my expertise and compassion. It was all about their healing, not mine.

The name on the file folder, J. McKenna, gave me a chill. He had been wounded in the line of duty—shot by a bank robbery suspect. Seeing the name reminded me of where I came from and why the need for hiding existed. I pushed the memories down.
I’m not that person anymore. That person doesn’t exist.
It wasn’t necessary to touch the necklace underneath my sweater as a reminder, but it had become a nervous habit. The locket was the only thing I had kept from that life.

The door opened and Sheila showed my patient in. As my eyes met his, my heart stopped for what seemed like hours. After reading the file, I was afraid of this. How many Jackson McKenna’s could there be?
The hair is shorter and the face is older, but it’s him. I would know those eyes anywhere. Jackson McKenna.
He was my first love and indirectly, the reason I had to use a cane to walk farther than across the room.

I cleared my throat and stood, reaching out to shake his hand as I would with any new patient, hoping he didn’t recognize me.

“I’m Dr. Parker. Please make yourself comfortable, Officer McKenna, and we can get started.”

When I realized his right arm was in a sling and we couldn’t shake hands, I dropped mine back to my side. Picking up my notepad and pen, I hoped he didn’t see the way my hands were shaking.

“It’s actually Detective, not Officer.”

He sat on the chair across from me, observing with those hazel eyes that have haunted my dreams for ten years, and then he shook his head.

“You remind me of someone I used to know a long time ago.”

His eyes stared off into the distance as if he was trying to pull up a memory. Forcing his attention back to me he remarked, “I’ve never been to a psychologist before. Where’s your couch?”

I glanced at my notepad, trying to avoid direct eye contact. If I looked into his eyes, I was afraid he would see the truth.

“I don’t have a couch. These types of sessions seem to work better if they are informal; as if we are just having a regular conversation. That’s easier to do if we’re facing each other. Your chair reclines if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, this is fine.”

“If you need to stop at any time, please let me know and we can take a break.” I focused my attention on the pen and notepad as I picked them up from the table.

He stretched out his long legs and settled in. “I’m ready to get this over with.”

“Let’s start with the bank robbery. Tell me what you remember.”

“The robbery was still in progress when my partner and I arrived at the bank, and I could see two of the suspects through the door. According to the dispatcher, there were about ten hostages and three perps inside the bank.”

He took a drink of water, trying to distract me from the pain that showed not only on his face but in his body language.

“My commander was on the phone with the third perp, listening to their demands. I pulled my weapon and took cover beside my car, where I could watch the other two suspects. The commander came over to fill us in on their demands. Apparently, they weren’t very creative bank robbers; all they wanted was transportation and safe passage out of the city. The captain and I were discussing our options when all hell broke loose. I don’t know who shot first, but bullets were flying from both sides.”

He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. I remembered watching him do that so many times. Back then, his hair was always hanging in his eyes.

“One of the hostages crawled out the door, and I got in position to escort her to safety. Hearing bullets whiz by my head, I didn’t have time to stop. When I reached the woman and saw that she’d been shot and was bleeding, I did the only thing I could—picked her up and ran. Getting her to the EMTs, they whisked her away for medical attention.”

Jax got up and started pacing, running his left hand through his hair again.

“My commander walked over to me and started yelling about how I was trying to get myself killed. I just stood there and took it, working hard to stay conscious until he was done with the reprimand. All of a sudden he realized there was blood dripping from my fingers. I heard him yell, ‘Jesus, McKenna, you’ve been shot. I need an EMT over here now.’ That’s all I remember until I woke up in the hospital the next day.”

My phone dinged, letting me know that our time was up for the day. I looked down at my notebook relieved to see that I had been taking notes—the last hour a blur.

“We’ve made some impressive progress today. Two or three more sessions should do it.”

“I was really hoping to get this done today. Is there any way we can stay and finish this now?”

“No, I’m sorry. We can finish this discussion up next week. Stop and see the receptionist on your way out, and she can schedule your next two sessions.” I closed my notebook and took a slow, deep breath, releasing it gradually. There was no way I could be in his presence any longer without giving myself away. My pulse was racing, and I had begun to sweat.

Jackson

Staring out the window, I sat in silence as my sister Jordan pulled into the parking lot of the medical building where she was going to drop me off for my required psych appointment. I’d been shot while on duty during an attempted bank robbery and had saved an innocent hostage. This was the thanks I got—forced to bare my soul to some stranger who would determine if I still had all my marbles.

Jordan swerved to miss a pothole in the parking lot and my arm bumped the door.

“Jesus, Jordan, who taught you to drive?”

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I wished I had taken a pain pill before we left the house, but I had to be
Mr. Macho
and act like I didn’t need it.
Dumbass.

“You did. I can’t help it that this town doesn’t believe in fixing potholes.”

She pulled up in front of the building and threw the shifter into park.

“Keep bitching about it and you can find your own ride next time.”

She turned in her seat and gave me the compassionate puppy dog look. “Seriously, Jax, do you want me to come in with you?”

I was grateful that she moved here two years ago after her divorce but didn’t want her to take the baby brother thing literally.

“No, I need to handle this on my own. I’m okay, really.”

“Maybe this doctor can resurrect that brain of yours. I still can’t believe you ran through a gunfight.”

She snatched her purse and started rummaging around in it before pulling out her phone. When she looked back up at me, I could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“You should reconsider taking the desk job your sergeant offered. I can’t handle another phone call like the one I got when you were shot. You’re all I have left, and you’re not invincible.”

I reached over with my left hand and awkwardly opened the car door. Getting shot in my right arm really sucked.

Jordan had grasped my left hand before I got out. “Love you, Jax.”

I squeezed her hand to let her know I loved her too, but I still couldn’t make myself say it out here in front of God and everybody. “Pick me up at five.”

When I approached the lobby, I decided to use the stairs. It would take longer to get to the third floor. I wondered why I was so nervous about this appointment. I was just doing my job—end of story. For some reason, everyone was making such a big deal out of it. My captain had called me today and let me know they wanted to present me with some bullshit medal for heroism.
Will it ever end? I just want to go back to my quiet life.

The wound in my arm thumped in time with my heartbeat as I forced myself to walk into the doctor’s suite. The click of computer keys kept the room from total silence. An attractive brunette sat behind a desk positioned in front of a closed door. She looked up and smiled.

“Detective McKenna?” At my nod, she handed me some paperwork on a clipboard.
She can see the sling on my arm. Shouldn’t she, at least, ask if I can fill out papers?
After buzzing the doctor to let her know I was there, she glanced at me, and I started to tell her that I was right-handed. That’s when the doctor responded back and told her to show me in when I had the insurance paperwork completed.

“Can you give me a hand with this? I’m right-handed.”

She smiled and took the clipboard back from me.

“If you leave your insurance card with me, I’ll take care of it for you.”

Really? She’s batting her eyelashes at me.
That just made me want to roll my eyes, but I restrained myself. I’m used to the attention I get from women, but her attempts to flirt were over the top. She led me to the office door and opened it, closing it softly behind me.

The doctor stood and introduced herself and my heart beat double time for a couple of seconds. She reminded me of Lainie. I thought I saw a spark of something in her eyes, but she continued on as if she didn’t know me. Also, her eyes were brown, not blue. It must have been my imagination.

Somehow, I managed to get through the hour-long appointment without revealing too much. It took me most of the hour just to tell her what happened the day I was shot. When her phone alarm sounded, she advised me to schedule a couple more appointments.
Seriously?
I tried to talk her into finishing this today, but she was adamant that our time was up. Even after I offered to pay her double, she wasn’t having any part of it.