THE THERAPIST

02

𝐂 𝐡 𝐚 𝐩 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫  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, muscular shoulders—he had the looks of a good cop, but appearances were 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 said 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 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 wanted 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. Newton. 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 felt cold in my hand. 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 on the desk to the windows and walls made me feel like I was a suspect. Was I?