Im going to go, he said.
Yeah, good idea, Danielle said. And dont even bother calling again unless its going to start with an apology.
He shook his headwhether at himself and his actions or at her, Danielle wasnt sure. She watched him quickly walk for the door, closing it firmly behind him. Danielle sat on the couch, looking toward the door for several moments as she tried to figure out what exactly had happened.
No interest in screwing me and a surprise temper on him, she thought. That dude might be more trouble than hes worth.
Of course, shed always been drawn to that kind of man.
She looked at her arm and saw red splotches where he had grabbed her and shoved her down. She was pretty sure theyd bruise. It wouldnt be the first time a guy had put bruises on her but she had really not seen it coming from Martin.
She toyed with the idea of chasing after him to see what had gotten into him. But instead, she stayed on the couch and watched the movie. If her past had taught her anything, it was that men simply werent worth chasing after. Not even the ones who seemed too good to be true.
She finished the movie by herself and called it a night. As she shut off all the light, she felt like she was being watchedlike she was not alone. She knew this was ridiculous, of course, but still could not help but look back to her front door, where the letter had appeared yesterdayand several times beforeas if out of nowhere.
She remained on the couch and watched the door, almost expecting another letter to slide through the bottom. And twenty minutes later, when she got up and started getting ready for work, she did so with every light in the apartment on.
Slowly, a creeping paranoia churned within her. It was a familiar one, a feeling that had become something like a close friend over the yearsa very close friend ever since those letters started arriving.
She thought of the pills and wondered for a moment if this were all in her head. Everything. Including the letters.
Was any of this real?
She couldnt help reaching back into her past, reminding herself of the darkness she thought she had escaped.
Was she losing her mind again?
Chapter Six
Chloe sat in the waiting room, looking at the sparse reading selection on the coffee table. She had visited two different therapists following her mothers death but had not really understood the purpose of those visits. Now, though, at the age of twenty-seven, she knew why she was here. She had taken Greenes advice and called the on-hand bureau therapist to talk out her reaction to yesterdays crime scene. Now she found herself trying to recall the offices she had visited as child.
Ms. Fine? a woman called from the other side of the room.
Chloe had been so deep in her own thoughts that she hadnt heard the door to the waiting room open. A pleasant-looking woman waved her back. Chloe got to her feet and tried her best not to feel like a failure as she followed the woman down a hallway and toward a large office space.
She thought back to what Greene had told her yesterday as they had shared coffee. It was still bright and shining in her mind because it had been the first bit of real advice a seasoned agent had ever given her during her very young career.
I saw this therapist several times my first year. My fourth crime scene was a murder-suicide. Four bodies in all. One was a three-year-old kid. Rattled the hell out of me. So I can tell you without hesitationtherapy works. Especially if you start it at this stage of your career. Ive seen agents think theyre hot shit and dont need the help. Dont be one of those, Fine.
So noneeding a therapist did not make her a failure. If anything, she hoped it might make her stronger.
She entered the office and saw an older gentleman of about sixty or so sitting behind a large desk. A window behind the desk revealed a small topiary outside, butterflies darting to and fro. His name was Donald Skinner, and he had been doing this for more than thirty years. She knew this because she had Googled him before deciding to make the appointment. Skinner was very prim and proper; he seemed to expand slightly, filling the room a bit more as he walked over to greet her.
He gestured toward a comfortable-looking armchair in the center of the room. Please, he said. Make yourself comfortable.
She sat down, clearly nervous. She knew she was probably trying a bit too hard to try to hide it.
Ever done this before? Skinner asked.
When I was much younger, she said.
He nodded as he took a seat in an identical chair positioned in front of hers. When he sat, he hefted his right knee up on his right leg and folded his hands atop them.
Ms. Fine, why dont you tell me about yourselfending with why you are here today.
How far back? she asked, meaning it as a joke.
For now, lets just focus on the crime scene yesterday, Skinner answered.
Chloe took a moment to think and then started. She held nothing back, even delving back into her past a bit to paint that picture for him as well. Skinner listened intently and now mulled over everything he had just been told.
Tell me, Skinner said. So far, out of the crime scenes youve visited, was this the grisliest?
No. But it was the grisliest thing Id been allowed to actually see.
So you are willing to fully admit that it was this event from your past that caused you to react the way you did?
I suppose. I mean, its never happened before. And even when it sort if tries to bother me, I can stomp it out pretty easily.
I see. Now, are there any other factors that might have come into play? Its a new city. A new instructor, a new house. Theres a lot of change.
My twin sister, Chloe said. She lives here in Pinecrest. I figured maybe the idea of seeing her again after a year or somaybe that did it in addition to the scene being so similar.
That could very well be the case, Skinner asked. Please forgive me asking such a simple question, but did the murder of your mother lead you to a career with the FBI?
Yes. I knew by the time I was twelve, this is what I wanted to do.
And what about your sister? What does she do?
Shes a bartender. I think she enjoys it because she only has to be social for a few hours of the day and then she can go home and sleep until noon.
And does she remember that day the same way you do? Have you spoken about it?
We have, but she wont go into great detail. When I try, she shuts me down pretty much right away.
So go into those details with me right now, Skinner said. Its clear you need to discuss it somehow. So why not with mean impartial party?
Well, like I said earlier, it seemed like a pretty basic yet unfortunate accident.
Yet your father was arrested for it, Skinner pointed out. So to me, as someone not familiar with the case, I dont lean towards accident. It makes me curious how you can see it so clearly as such. So lets go over it. What happened that day? What do you remember?
Well, it was an accident caused by my father. Thats why he was arrested. He didnt even lie about it. He was drunk, Mom made him mad, and he pushed her.
Ive given you the chance to go into greater detail and thats all Im getting? Skinner asked in a friendly tone.
Well, some of it is blurry, Chloe admitted. You know how past memories are sort of fogged over with rose-colored glasses?