𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

I wasn’t prepared to face Detective Spade, but I had to see him. As I walked down the corridor in the private space where I worked, I wondered why he chose this day to see me. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially him.

He sat on a couch in the waiting room. My eyes wouldn’t leave him. Dark-haired, chiselled features, muscular shoulders—he had the looks of a good cop, but appearance was very deceptive. I didn’t trust him. Partly because I didn’t like him.

I passed by the front desk. A smile plastered on my face, I waved at the receptionist. Rebecca looked calm now as she reciprocated my gesture. I neared her desk and tapped on a pile of documents.

She looked up at me. “Hi, Dr. Newton. That was quick. How was the burial?”

I wasn’t ready to talk about it, and I couldn’t ignore her. “Melancholic. I met a lot of people. Rosalind was well-liked.”

Her fat face filled with a wistful smile. “Yeah. I can imagine. Rosalind was such a sweet girl. I didn’t really know her, but she was so nice to me whenever she came around.”

“May her soul rest in peace,” I said, my peripheral vision spotting Detective Spade watching us. He was already making me feel uncomfortable.

“Amen,” she mumbled.

“I will see you around. Let me attend to my visitor.”

“Sure, Dr. Newton. Dr. Mann just left the premises. She says she’ll be out for a while.”

“Thanks. I will give her a call.”

I turned around and paced toward Detective Spade. He rose and approached me, narrowing our distance.

He gave me a once-over, then said, “It’s nice to see you again.” He directed a firm hand with a Rolex shining from his wrist to me.

I decided against shaking his hand and said, “What do you want? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” I wasn’t sure if I was being hostile to him, but I just couldn’t hide my feelings whenever I saw him. He doesn’t belong here. He’s not making my life any better.

A number of people walked past us. He looked around. “Can we go into your office.”

The last place I want him to be. Rolling my eyes, I turned toward the narrow corridor on my left, increasing my steps to my office. My eyes landed on the name that had been pasted on the brown Formica door. DR. AVERY NEWTON. Newtown. When the name rang, a chill ran down my spine, reminding me of how unstable my life had been for the past years. And now this. I can’t live like this. This has to stop.

The knob was cold when I touched it. I sighed, gave it a push, and stepped inside my sanctuary. A familiar sensation tingled my fingers. Walking past the desk to the chair, I took off my shawl and placed it on the hanger.

Detective Spade stood tall in the center of the subdued space, staring at my face. He wore a white shirt and a black jacket with matching jeans. A pair of leather boots adorned his feet.

I gestured to a chair across from me. “Please have a seat.”

As he moved toward the appointed chair, his shield hanging from a lanyard around his neck kept dangling. I remembered once again that this man was a detective investigating a murder. The thought of it made my skin crawl. This wasn’t good. Thrice now, he had been to my office, and the way he constantly looked around, moving his eyes from the portrait sitting across from me to the windows and walls made me feel like I was a suspect. Was I?

Leaning forward, I slammed the portrait face down and cleared my throat. “How can I help you, Detective Spade?”

“I’m here because of one of your clients. Rosalind Danvers,” he said, his voice stony.

Of course. He was here because of Rosalind. What other reason had he got to be here other than that?

Saliva rose to my throat. I swallowed hard and watched in silence as he went into his pocket and pulled out a photograph, snapping it to my face.

“Recognize her?”

I found myself staring at the smiling face of a woman who had sat across from me in this same office weeks ago. Her long dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, she’d come to my office very sad. Sometimes on the verge of tears. It was always the same; her toxic relationship. I failed her. Of late, I seemed to be failing a lot of people.

I blinked back the tears that wanted to fall. I mustn’t cry in front of this man. I would look vulnerable. I had to act as though I were in control, but in reality, I wasn’t.

Shifting my eyes away from the picture, I mumbled, “Yes.”

“She was brutally murdered a couple of days ago in her house,” he said, replacing the photo. “Records from her call logs prove you were the last person she contacted, and we found your business card too.”

I detected spite in his voice. Was he angry that a woman had died, or that three murders in the past months had led him straight to my door?

I tucked strands of hair behind my ears. “She was my patient. Did you expect something less?”

“No. I guessed right.” He went into his pocket again and brought out a small notepad and a pen. “I want to ask you a few questions.”

I nodded.

“When was the last time you saw Miss. Danvers?”

“Four days ago if I remember correctly. We had another session as always.”

He jotted something into his notepad, then glanced up at me. “Do you always give your phone number to your clients?”

“Unless they request. Some just need a listener. They call me when no one’s there for them.”

He bobbed his head. “What was Rosalind seeing you for?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him that. I could lose my license. “I’ll skip that. It’s confidential. Get me a warrant first.”

Deep horizontal lines formed on his forehead. I couldn’t care less if he was angry.

“We’ve been through this before, Ms. Newton. Don’t make this harder.”

I grimaced. “Then you should know better. I’m bound by a code of ethics.”

He clenched his teeth, then spilt, “Three people are dead, and they were all your patients.” He leaned forward, placing his hand on the desk. “Is it just a coincidence or is there something you’re not telling us?”

I recoiled, soothing the fabric of my pantsuit. I struggled not to hyperventilate. I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger? Guilt? Or both? A patient of mine was dead, and the least this detective could do was engineer such a preposterous idea.

“What are insinuating?” I said, my voice barely audible.

“You tell me. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

I took a deep breath. “I think you need to go. We’re done for today. Until you get me a court order, I’m not saying a word.”

I wanted to tell him to look into this as a single murder. I suspected Lucas might have had something to do with Rosalind’s death. Our last session, she was going to break up with him. Based on everything she’d told me about Lucas, I intuited he could be lethal when he got violent. I had suggested I go with her to his house, but she turned down my offer and said she needed to do this alone. I never found out if she ever broke up with him.

Had I made a mistake letting her go alone? Could I have done something more to save Rosalind? I couldn’t stop feeling like a loser. Nonetheless, this Lucas guy needed to be checked out. This detective should be on his trail, not mine. If they already had her cell phone, then I was certain they’d seen some of the damning texts Lucas sent to Rosalind. Good start. I was sure Rosalind’s murder wasn’t connected to the other two. Was Detective Spade right? Were the murders connected?

He rose abruptly. “I will be back, Doc. We’re not done yet.”

I remained silent, watching him as he sauntered to the door, shutting it tightly on his way out. I sat still, looking into the void. I moved forward and picked up the portrait lying on the table. With teary eyes, I looked at the photo of a teenage boy who would’ve turned fifteen in a couple of days. Tears snaked down my cheeks and hit the pane. Death was lingering around me. I could smell it.

Three people were dead, and I was the only connection.

Did I kill my patients?