“It hits you.”
“Exactly.”
“I get what you’re saying. But the thing is, I don’t have time to wait forit, whatever it is, to hit me. We’re on borrowed time, because—and you can count on this—Malone will learn that you and I are in cahoots.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“No, but he will. And he’s not going to stand for it, because he doesn’t know that you’re sticking to patient privilege. I think he’ll strike, and he’ll strike like Thor’s hammer. I don’t want that to happen while I’m sitting idle, waiting for a cerebral cloud to part.”
“Then let me help you reconstruct.”
“What’s that mean?”
“We try to reconstruct the scene where that something that is escaping you caused a visceral reaction at the time. Something seen, said, or done either by you or someone you were with. It might not have seemed very important at the time, but, for whatever reason, your mind latched on to it, and it’s still there,” she said, pointing to his forehead. “Let’s see if we can take you back to that time and place and allow it to reveal itself.”
“Dylan, I—”
“Close your eyes.”
“This is a thing?”
“Yes.”
“John will pay for it?”
“I’ll charge him double. Now close your eyes.”
He sighed to let her know he thought this was hooey and a waste of time, but he closed his eyes anyway.
“Good,” she said. “Now relax your shoulders.” He did. “Now free your mind. Let it drift. Retrace the places you’ve been.”
“The birth canal.” He opened one eye, and, sure enough, she was rolling hers.
“Won’t you at least try this?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be swinging a pocket watch while I count down from ten?”
“This isn’t hypnotism. If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll do the laundry.”
He gave another sigh and closed his eyes.
She started again, speaking in a low, velvety voice that, in other circumstances, he could make love to for hours.
“More recently than your birth,” she said, “where did you experience a strong emotion? Like anxiety or fear. Not necessarily fear of being harmed, but of being rejected or misunderstood. Did something raise your hackles recently? A conflict or—”
He opened his eyes. “That would be everywhere. Starting with the barroom brawl last Saturday night and jail on Sunday morning. Every place I’ve been since then, I’ve been in a conflict of one kind or another.”
She gestured for him to close his eyes again. He did. “Then let’s narrow it down to the places you’ve been this week. My office? Was it during our initial encounter?”
“No, my reaction to you was a little bit south ofvisceral.”
He heard her sniff of disapproval.
He couldn’t help but grin. “Just sayin’. But no, it wasn’t—” He stopped.
“Wasn’t what?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t about you. It was work.” His eyes popped open. “John and me. I was in his office.”
