Chapter Three
There was a knock on her office door. Normally Holly would have Irma answer it, but her secretary was out for lunch. Setting aside her notebook, Holly opened the door to find Molson lounging against the wall.
“Beautiful,” he said by way of greeting.
Holly ignored the remark. “What did you find out?”
“You’re all business,” Molson tutted her. He straightened. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
“No,” Holly smiled sweetly. “We can talk right here.”
“What happens when your secretary come in the door?” he asked.
“Irma knows that I’m trying to investigate further into Bethany Searson’s case,” Holly explained. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Suit yourself,” Molson nodded. “I got a question. Why didn’t you just talk to Bethany? She’d be the one who would likely know the most about her case besides the police.”
“I tried,” Holly grew serious. “She’s not returning my calls.”
“You think she blames you,” Molson suddenly understood Holly’s motivation. “You wonder if she thinks you really did have a part in her near death.”
“A client should be able to trust their psychiatrist,” Holly acknowledged. “I thought we had a good relationship.”
“You’re the kind of person that needs people to like her,” Molson extrapolated.
“I am not,” Holly frowned.
“Sure you are,” he pointed to her office. “I bet that’s neat as a pin. You’re a classic people pleaser. You have a hard time saying know, especially to people whose opinions matter to you.”
“Stop trying to psychoanalyze me,” Holly didn’t appreciate him saying these things. She liked a clean office. “I’m the doctor here, not you.”
“When’s the last time you had an argument with a parent?” Molson leaned back against the doorframe, cocking his head to the side as he watched her. “A real out argument.”
“I’m not doing this,” Holly declared.
“You’re the shrink. You know I’m right,” he said softly.
“I’m not a shrink. I’m a psychiatrist,” she resisted the urge to fold her arms defensively. He was some gang member who didn’t know what he was talking about. Holly decided to steer the conversation back on track. “Tell me what you found out about the investigation.”
“Not all that much,” he admitted, amused that she had changed the subject. “It’s still an open case. The pharmacy recordings were erased so no one knows who filled the prescriptions. The girl who worked at the pharmacy the night the prescriptions were filled, went missing. Cops found her body in a river. No signs of foul play, but her family says she don’t swim.”
“She was murdered,” Holly took a deep breath. Never before had any of her cases been like this, where someone was willing to kill to keep a client silent.
“Probably,” Molson agreed. “Computer records state that Bethany picked up her meds. She says she didn’t.”
“Where does the investigation go from here?” Holly asked.
“Nowhere,” he grimaced. “No proof of anything. Only Bethany remembering that she’d been told if she didn’t take the pills on time, she’d have to go to live in a psychiatric ward for the rest of her life.”
“Who told her that?” Holly questioned. “Wouldn’t that be our suspect?”
“Her dad told her that,” Molson told her. “The cops think he decided to overdose his own kid and have the case solved in a nice little bundle once the paperwork is finished.”
“Ted Searson is dead,” Holly stated flatly. Bethany’s father had died in prison of a severe allergic reaction. “Isn’t that just a little too convenient? When we last saw him, he was begging you to save Bethany’s life. I believe that he didn’t want his daughter to die.”
Molson had seen Ted’s reaction to Bethany’s near-death condition. He knew Ted hadn’t wanted her to die. The man’s tearful plea had been heartfelt. “I have a suspicion of who tried to kill Beth.”
“Who?” Holly jumped on his remark.
