The Memory Therapist - ONC 2020

Chapter Seven

The rest of the day I think over the lunch meeting. Specifically, what I said and how I reacted to things. Was Phil, right? Did I miss something important? 

Doubtful. I was on high alert that whole lunch and was making sure I kept myself in check. Only when Phil mentioned the data that was tied to memories did I possibly look concerned. But even then, I could argue that it was my ego hurting that I didn't think of the idea myself. It wouldn't even be a lie. 

The look in the detective's eyes was lust, not suspicion. Right? 

I laugh out loud, shattering the silence of the office. It sounds strained and hysterical. The knowing look Phil gave me before he left seems to be haunting me. Does he know? How would he know? 

I run my hands down my face, not caring what it does to my makeup. This was obviously just Phil's way of breaking the trust that was forming between myself and the detective. He was trying to prevent it from going any further. 

But that knowing look. What does he think he knows? 

I curse myself for letting Phil get into my head like this. Even if Charles did suspect me, I already have a plan in motion to ensure that it doesn't grow past a suspicion. This simply means I have to be more careful in how to direct the investigation if I myself am a suspect and Charles is analyzing my every move. 

I take a calming breath. It was just Phil's jealousy trying to get the upper hand against the detective. It was nothing more. 

No matter how many times I tell myself that though, I can't deny the perceptive look in his eyes. It was as if he actually saw me for who I really am. 

I want to call Phil and question him, but I don't want him to know that he's rattled me. It would only confirm that I do in fact have something to hide, whether he knows the truth or not. 

I have scoured through my memories to search for the attached data that Phil referenced during lunch, but I can't seem to find anything. I don't dare google it because that may raise questions since Phil is supposed to help me with this. What would my excuse be to do this without him? 

Despite my better judgement, I pick up my phone and dial Phil's cell number. 

"Ray?" He picks up instantly, his voice a mixture of concern and excitement. 

"Hey, Phil. Want to grab a drink?" He doesn't need any more explanation to agree enthusiastically and telling me where to meet him. I'm sure the excitement is partly that I called him for a drink as opposed to Charles which means that he won the Alpha male contest. 

Perhaps he did, considering he could be holding the trump card to my freedom. 

Within a few minutes I am at the bar Phil told me to meet him at. He's waiting outside and approaches me when I get closer. "Is everything okay?" I can tell that he wants everything to be okay so that this is more of a social call. 

"I'm a bit shaken up by what you said, to be honest." I force myself to look vulnerable as he searches my face. It's not a lie that I'm concerned about what he told me, but I would never show this kind of weakness openly. 

I use the opportunity to search his own face for any hint of explanation. Some clue as to what he is feeling. Does he look guilty? Does he look smug? I can't tell. I know it's because I'm letting my emotions rise closer to the surface than they ever have but I can't push down the anxiety that has plagued me since lunch. 

"Well, let's get that drink then," he offers, holding the door open for me like a gentleman. It doesn't surprise me that he is treating this like a date. To him this is his chance to become more than classmates, more than colleagues. I do find it concerning that my emotional vulnerability isn't swaying his judgement on that, but it's nothing that I can't handle. If anything, it might just give me something to use against him later.