Rooting through my purse, I produce the tin of Altoids and realize I’m down to only two. I need to save them, I realize, for the car trip home, when I’ll be leaving the safety of Dr. Erling’s office.
I give myself a pep talk instead. I insist there’s no real reason in the world for me to detach from who I am. I made a mistake as a child, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of now. And no matter what happens with Hugh, I have good friends, a loving family, and work I’m crazy about. And even if I might have behaved stupidly during the two days I was gone—or done something I shouldn’t have—that doesn’t define who I really am.
Hugh. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of him now, since it will only upset me more, but my mind keeps rushing there. If he does want to make a fresh start—his words—could I? What if Erling was right when she suggested the other day that maybe Idowant kids, just not with Hugh?
I take deep breaths. Knead my scalp as hard as I can with the tips of my fingers, paying attention to the sensation. Finally, there’s an exit sign for Larchmont, and minutes later we’re turning onto Erling’s street, with attractive clapboard and brick houses set graciously far apart from each other. It’s quiet today, with no one in sight. Maybe people are tucked inside doing Sunday kinds of things.
We pull up to the house. I was hoping the mere sight of it would quell my anxiety, but my dread seems to mushroom. I need to get inside and talk to her as soon as possible.
I fling open the car door, blurt out a thank-you, and deposit myself onto the sidewalk in front of the house. There are a couple of majestic maple trees in the yard, their leaves already vibrant shades of orange. I stare beyond them at the lovely gray clapboard house. There’s a light on in the office, as well as in what must be an upstairs bedroom.
Though I’m standing in front of the walkway to the front door, I know from my previous appointment here to turn right and head a few yards down the street to a second path, this one shooting to the separate entrance at the side of the house. A narrow conservatory serves as a waiting area for the office.
I hurry up the path, climb two steps, and enter the unlocked conservatory. The space has been winterized, so despite how brisk the day is, it’s warm inside.
I press the buzzer by the inside door. It works the same way the system does in the New York office, triggering a tiny click inside so that Erling is alerted to a patient’s presence with minimal disturbance to any ongoing session. But I’m sure I must be the only patient today. Praying it won’t belong before I’m buzzed into the house, I position myself on the edge of one of the white wicker chairs. With my head lowered, I try to still my thoughts.
It’s then, out of the corner of my eye, that I see a flash of something dark outside the conservatory.
I jerk my head up and run my gaze along the windows. There’s nothing there now. Was it simply a tree branch jostled by the wind? Or was someone moving around outside, dashing toward the back of the house? I rise and make my way slowly down the length of the conservatory. When I reach the end, I peer out of the far window, but all I see is an empty bird feeder and a cluster of trees behind it.
A creaking sound startles me next. When I spin around, I realize it was Dr. Erling opening her office door.
“Ally, what’s happening?” she asks, clearly registering the expression on my face. I see her eyes go to my bruise, too.
“I—I thought I saw something out there. Something black in the side yard.”
She crosses to one of the bare windows and studies the surroundings.
“Do you think it was a person?” Her expression is wary, and I can tell I’ve alarmed her a little, especially since she knows about Mulroney’s murder.
“I don’t know.”
“It might have been a crow,” she says. “They tend to congregate at this time of day. But come inside, and I’ll lock the door behind us.”
I follow her into the large, comfortable office. Erling quickly locks the door, and I watch her push aside thecream-colored curtain above the door, taking a last look at the yard with a furrowed brow. My stomach is in knots now, as if someone is wringing it like a sponge.
“No need to worry now,” she assures me.
She gestures for me to sit, and I choose the middle of the couch, the same spot I took during my first visit here. Erling relaxes into the armchair across from me. She’s dressed more casually than usual—black pants and a knee-length gray cardigan buttoned over a paler gray blouse—but it’s the weekend, after all. Her hair’s pulled back into a loose French twist, instead of down around her shoulders.
“Your face,” she says as I slip out of my coat.
“So much has happened since we spoke.”
“How are you feeling right now?”
“Incredibly tense. Partly, I guess, from thinking I saw something. But at least I haven’t had that out-of-body sensation again—not since I left the city for here.”
“Good. You came by Uber?”
“Yes, it was easy enough.”
“Since you’ll need a car for the return, I suggest you schedule it now rather than trying to summon one when we’re finished. They’re sometimes hard to order here on short notice.”
I feel a little frustrated by the delay—I need to tell her about Wargo trying to kill me and Hugh’s deceit—but I fish out my phone first and program in the information for the trip home. My hand trembles as I tap in the details. I was so sure I’d be more at ease once I arrived here, but I’m still engulfed in a swirl of dread and anxiety.
“Sorry to make you take the time to do that,” Erling says when I’ve completed the task. “But this way you’re guaranteed a car, rather than having to take a train and then get home from Grand Central.”
