Taylor slipped an arm over her son’s shoulders, fire flashing across her high cheekbones. “I want those pictures destroyed.”
“They will be after we finish this case,” Huck said. “Why did you lie about not recognizing Dr. Rox when you were shown a picture of her?”
Davie’s chin dropped. “I was embarrassed and didn’t want you all to think I was crazy.”
Laurel’s heart hurt for him. “It’s smart to seek help if you need it. How did you start seeing Dr. Rox?”
Davie leaned into his mom’s side. “I got really angry at one of my teachers after he gave me a C on a paper, and he recommended I see Dr. Rox. She helped me with my anger, and I liked her. A lot.”
Laurel watched his facial expressions.
Huck sat back, looking less intimidating. “Did you talk to Dr. Rox about Dr. Caine kicking you out of her study?”
It was smart he was using their titles.
Davie nodded.
“Tell us about that anger, Davie,” Laurel said.
He looked like a lost kid for a moment. “Dr. Caine made me feel important. Like she couldn’t do her study without me, and then she asked me all about myself. My feelings. What I was afraid of and what I hoped to have. Who I loved, who I hated, and why. She would describe different scenarios, and I’d tell her how I’d react. Then she’d give me a vitamin shot or a drink, we’d watch clips of movies or shows, usually action ones, and then she’d ask me how I felt. We’d talk about what I truly wanted deep down, where the real me lives.”
“Vitamin shots?” Huck asked.
“Yeah,” Davie said.
Laurel tilted her head. “When, exactly, did you start working with Dr. Caine?”
“The beginning of January when the semester started,” he said. “I got paid twenty dollars for each meeting with Dr. Caine, and she decided how many were necessary. I saw her six times before she kicked me out. I went from being interesting to her to useless.” There was more than anger in his voice. Hurt?
“Oh, Davie.” Taylor hugged him tighter to her side. “You don’t have to work so hard all the time. I’ll make more money.”
His head hung.
Huck cut Laurel a look.
She opened the top file folder and pushed a picture across the table. “What kind of a flower is this, Davie?” They’d kept that element of the case away from the media so far.
He looked up. “I don’t know. A red one?”
Was he playing dumb?
Huck studied him. “Come on. You work part-time for a landscaping business. You have to know what that is.”
He squinted and angled his head differently. “Dude, I have no clue. It’s a flower.”
“Taylor?” Laurel asked.
The woman looked away from her son to study the photograph. “Um, I don’t know. A gladiolus or something like that?” She frowned.
Laurel left the picture on the table. “Did you want Sharon Lamber dead?”
“No!” he exploded. “I didn’t want Sharon dead at all. I love her. I mean, I loved her. I also didn’t want my shrink dead.” He turned into his mom’s neck. “I’m done talking to you now. Arrest me or not. I don’t care anymore.”
They were losing him.
“One more question, Davie. How did your fingerprint get on a bullet that nearly killed one of us?” Huck asked.
Davie jerked and turned toward Huck, tears in his eyes. “What?”
