Manipulating. He’d seen signs of it earlier when he’d tried to coax her to talk about things that didn’t involve the weather.

Her throat worked for a second with the food still pouched inside one cheek. She ended up having to wash the potatoes down with several gulps of water. She sat there, breathing as hard as her mother had been when she’d arrived a few moments ago.

“Enjoying your meal?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain blasé. So much for showing Jessi how good he was at his job.

As if this was even about him.

He ground his teeth as his frustration shifted to himself.

Chelsea shrugged. Another bite went in—albeit a much smaller one this time.

Not polite to talk with my mouth full, was the inference.

Well, she’d run out of the stuff eventually. And since she was pretty thin already, he was all for anything that would get food into her system. That was one of the comments on the sheet in her file. She didn’t eat much, unless someone wanted to interact with her in some way. The staff had taken to coming to her room and loitering around, straightening things and making small talk. It was a surefire way to get that fork moving from plate to mouth.

He decided to give her a little more time.

Jessi stood there, looking a little lost by her daughter’s lack of greeting. He sent her a nod of reassurance and motioned her to sit in one of the two nearby chairs and joined her.

“Let’s go ahead and get started, if that’s okay with you, Chelsea.”

Chew, chew, chew.

She moved on to her green beans without a word. Okay, if that’s the way she wanted to play it, he’d go right along with it.

He turned to Jessi, sorry for what he was about to do, but if anything could break through her daughter’s wall it might be having to face some hard, unpleasant subjects. “Since Chelsea’s busy, why don’t you tell me what led her to being here.”

Right on cue, Jessi’s eyes widened. “You mean about the day I called …”

“Yes.”

Her throat moved a couple of times, swallowing, probably her way of either building up the courage to talk about the suicide attempt or to refuse.

“Well, I—I called Chelsea’s cell phone to let her know I was coming home early. It rang and rang before finally going over to voice mail. I was going to stop and pick up some Thai food—her favorite …” Jessi’s eyes filled with tears. “I decided to go straight home instead, so we could go out to eat together. When I got there … Wh-when I got to the house, I—”

“Stop.” Chelsea’s voice broke through, though she was still staring down, a green bean halfway to her mouth. “Don’t make her talk about it.”

Whether the young woman wanted to spare her mother’s feelings or her own, Clint wasn’t sure. “What would you like to discuss instead, then?”

There was a long pause. Then she said, “What you hope to accomplish by keeping me here.”

“It’s not about us, Chelsea. It’s about you.”

“Where’s Dr. Cordoba?” Her head finally came up, and her gaze settled on him.

“He went to work somewhere else.”

“Because of me.” The words came out as a whisper.

Clint shook his head. “No, of course not. He made the decision for personal reasons. It had nothing to do with you.”

Jessi’s chest rose and fell as she took a quick breath. “We all just want to help, honey.”

“Everything I touch turns to ashes.”

“No.” Jessi glanced at him, then scooted closer to her daughter, reaching out to stroke her hair. “You’ve been through a lot in the past several months, but you’re not alone.”

“I am, Mom. You have no idea. You all think I’m suffering from PTSD, because of my time in that camp, don’t you? Dr. Cordoba did. But I’m not.”

Clint glanced at Jessi, a frown on his face. “You tried to take your life, Chelsea. Something made you think life wasn’t worth living.”

The girl’s shoulders slumped.

“Does this have to do with your pregnancy?”

Two sets of female eyes settled on him in shock.

Hell. Jessi hadn’t known?

It was right there in Chelsea’s medical chart that her physical exam had revealed she’d given birth or had had a miscarriage at some point. He’d just assumed …

His patient went absolutely rigid. “I want her to leave. Now.”

“But, Chelsea …” Jessi’s voice contained a note of pleading.

“Now.” The girl’s voice rose in volume. “Now, now. Now!”

Jessi careened back off her chair and stumbled from the room as her daughter’s wails turned to full-fledged screams of pain. She was tearing at her hair, her food flung across the room. Clint pressed the call button for the nurse and between the two of them they were able to administer a sedative, putting an end to Chelsea’s hysterical shrieks. Her muscles finally went limp and her eyes closed. He stood staring down at her bed for a few moments, a feeling of unease settling over him as it had each time he’d met with Chelsea. There was something here. Something more than what was revealed in her records.

And it involved that pregnancy. She’d been calm until the moment the subject had come up.

It was time to do a little more digging. But for now he had to go out there and face Jessi. And somehow come up with something to say that wouldn’t make things worse than they already were.

“I didn’t know.”

Clint came toward her as she leaned against the wall twenty feet away from Chelsea’s door. Her stomach had roiled within her as the nurse had rushed into the room and the screams had died down to moans, before finally fading away to nothing. All she wanted to do was throw up, just like she had during a previous visit, but she somehow held it together this time.

“I’m sorry, Jess.” Clint scrubbed a hand through his hair, not touching her. “I’d assumed she told you.”

“She hasn’t told me anything. Could it have been while she was a prisoner?”

“I’m not sure. This is the most emotion I’ve seen from her in the past week. We hit a nerve, though. So that’s a good thing.”

“I can’t imagine what she went through.” She leaned her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling.

Chelsea’s convoy had been ambushed during a night patrol by enemy forces disguised as police officers. The group had been held for four months. Chelsea had said they’d all been separated and interrogated, but she’d had no idea one of the prisoners had died until she and the rest of those rescued had been flown home.

Jessi sighed and turned back to look at him. “The army debriefed her, but I was never told what she said, and I—I was afraid to press her too much. She seemed to be doing fine. Maybe that in itself was a warning sign.”

“There was no way you could have known what she was going to do.” Clint pushed a strand of hair off her cheek.

She wasn’t sure she could stand seeing her daughter in this much pain week after week. And a pregnancy …

Had her daughter been raped during her captivity? The army had said there was no evidence of that, but then again Chelsea wasn’t exactly a fount of information. “I think I’m doing more harm than good by going in there with you.”

“Let’s see how it goes for the next week, okay? Chelsea was admitted under a suicide watch. That gives you permission to make decisions regarding her health care. She could still open up.”

“She doesn’t even want me here, Clint. You heard her.” Jessi’s head still reverberated with her daughter’s cries for her to get out.

“That was the shock talking. She didn’t expect me to ask that particular question. At least she’s getting it out, rather than bottling it all up inside.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her face. “How long’s it been since you’ve done something that hasn’t revolved around your job or Chelsea?”

She thought for a second. “I can’t remember.”

“The last thing she needs is for you to break down as well, which is where you’re headed if you don’t take some down time.”