“I’m playing it by the book.” With the notable exception of kissing the therapist. On the mouth.
“How’s your boy?”
“He’s great. Actually, I need to call him. Mind if I take this to a booth?”
She motioned him toward the row of them along the windows.
He carried his meal over and made the call. Andrew was having a “gwilled cheese samish” for lunch. They ate together. Mitch kept the dialogue upbeat, but, as always after talking to his son, he felt despondent when they said goodbye. He stared vacantly out the window, calculating when he would be able to work in his next visit to Lafayette.
He was distracted from his thoughts when he saw a woman emerge from an unmarked side door of the medical building. He recognized her as the lady he’d held the door for as she’d entered Dylan Reede’s reception room. She must have used the private exit.
“All done?” Dodi was standing at the end of the booth. “Want a refill on tea?”
“No thanks.” As he scooted out of the booth, he pressed a twenty-dollar bill into her hand.
“I’m free if you want to run away together,” she said.
He grinned. “You know I love you, but I can’t today. I’m due at a meeting.”
After seeing Mrs. Trent out, Dylan went into the waiting room where Ellie was preparing to leave for lunch. “Lock the door behind you, please. I’m going to stay in and snack out of the mini fridge.”
“I could bring you something.”
“No thanks. Any messages?”
“Lieutenant Bowie called.”
Her heart bumped. “About Mr. Haskell?”
“He didn’t say. Just asked that you call him back at your earliest convenience.”
“I’ll get right to it.” Forcing a smile, she said, “Enjoy your lunch.”
Once Ellie had left, she returned to her private office and sat down behind her desk. As she picked up her phone, she noticed that her palms had turned damp in anticipation of what she would tell Bowie. Before she could overthink it, she punched in the number she had saved in her contacts.
He answered with, “This is Bowie.”
“Dr. Reede.”
“Yes, I saw your name. Thanks for returning my call.”
“Of course. Are you checking with everyone on the list of potentials, or did you know Mitch had been to see me?” She had a horrifying visualization of him bragging to Bowie about the manner with which he’d sabotaged future sessions.
“Mitch texted me at nine forty-two this morning saying that he was on his way up to your office. He included a selfie where he was pointing to your name on the roster in the lobby.”
“A subtle way of giving you the finger, I think.”
“Undoubtedly. Did he say why he chose you?”
“I believe he picked me at random.”
“Luck of the draw.”
She wondered if Bowie meant good luck or bad luck, but she didn’t ask. There was a lengthy pause before he spoke again. “I’m sure you can guess why I wanted to speak with you.”
“You know that I can’t disclose anything confidential.”
“I’m not asking you to. But I need to confirm if Mitch is taking this seriously. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the session, and when is his next appointment?”
