THE THERAPIST

16

𝐂 𝐡 𝐚 𝐩 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫  𝟏𝟔

     WE FINISHED EATING. Garry helped me pack the plates into the kitchen and watched as I washed them under the sink. He picked a towel and dried them. A while later, I excused myself and went upstairs. When I came down, he wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room.

     “Garry?” I called out, but he didn’t reply. He couldn’t have left without saying goodbye or taking his coat.

     “Garry?”

     As I stood in the short hallway wondering where he might be, I noticed the door to my study was ajar. Oh my God, he couldn’t have gone there. I dashed into the study and couldn’t believe my eyes.

     “What are you doing?” I snapped.

     Garry stood behind my desk, looking at the documents splayed across it. Earlier, I was working on getting Meredith a list of names and had forgotten to tuck them away.

     He looked up at me, holding what I didn’t want him to see. “Why do you have case files and crime scene photos?” he asked, as though I owed him a reply.

     I stomped toward him and snatched the photograph of Rosalind, dead in a pool of blood. “These are confidential files. You need to go.”

     He stood still, as though he’d seen a ghost. “Is that what you’ve been hiding and trying to shoo me away?”

     Swiftly, I gathered the documents, the papers rustling in my shaky hands. One photograph slipped out of my fingers and fell. Garry bent down, but I picked it up before he could, then pulled a drawer and stashed everything inside.

     “Are you not going to answer my question?”

     I whipped my eyes toward him, which were flaring. “I’m not obliged to answer any of your questions.” I pointed to the door. “You shouldn’t have seen those files. Shouldn’t have come here.” I stopped and gave him a look, then drawled, “You need to leave.”

     He narrowed his eyes. “Did you kill somebody? Is that why you’re having case files and crime scene photos?”

     My brows puckered. “Why’d you think that?”

     “Because you’re acting strangely.”

     “I’m not a murderer, Garry. I didn’t kill anyone,” I said defensively. For a moment, I wondered why I was explaining myself to him when I should be dragging him out. He’d seen confidential patient files. He could get me into trouble.

     “Then why’re you having case files of what looks like a serial murder?”

     I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “It’s complicated.”

     He neared me. “Are you in any kind of trouble? You know you can trust me.” His voice was softer now.

     I didn’t want to entangle Garry in this mess. He had his own problems. “It’s nothing.”

     “It’s not nothing, Avery. If you tell me what’s happening, maybe I can help me.”

     “Trust me you can’t,” I said. “I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me, but you have to understand I’m no longer your wife. You don’t need to care for me anymore. I know you feel you have to, but you don’t.”

     For a split second, I thought I was looking at a statue. He didn’t reply or make an attempt to leave. I really needed him to go. I had allowed him into the house and he’d entered my study without my permission. I couldn’t stop thinking he was an intruder.