“Huh,” Mitch said again. “Why are we investigating them? What are they suspected of? Overcharging the unbalanced among us?”
John’s eyes took on a familiar, quelling glint, but his tone of voice remained even. “These psychologists have ranging experience counseling law enforcement officers specifically, but all have excellent credentials and reputations.”
“Says who?”
“I’ve vetted them myself.”
“No one would ever accuse you of being a slacker, John.”
John gave him a stern, “cut the crap” look. “Pick one.”
“Pick one?”
“Doesn’t matter to me which one you choose. All have agreed in advance to see you no less than twice a week for the next six weeks. If you stay sober till then, and the chip on your shoulder has shrunk to the size of a pimple, I’ll consider cutting the sessions to one a week.”
Mitch took another survey of the room as though to ask those eavesdropping if he’d heard right. Coming back to John, he huffed a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“No. You won’t seek help on your own, so I am making it compulsory. You’ll continue your duties and draw full pay. That is unless you fall off the wagon like you did last night. If you do that, I’ll have no choice but to suspend you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. Because you’ve got a serious problem, Mitch, and, before you react, please hear me out.” His expression changed to one less stern. “You’ve got to unload to somebody about Angela. You can’t keep it bottled up, or it’s going to destroy you. Will you ever get over losing her? No. But you’ve got to learn some coping skills. You need professional guidance on how to deal with it.”
“I’ll deal with it how I choose to.”
“You’re not dealing with it at all.”
“Well, I don’t needguidance. Coping skills? What the eff? That’s all bunk.”
“Says the guy who last night got drunk on his ass, brandished a broken bottle at a man, and then passed out and fell down face first.”
“That was an isolated—”
“Not that isolated. You think I don’t know that you felloff the wagon weeks ago, and that since then you’ve been half drunk half the time? You need help. You won’t talk to me or Beth, and both of us have tried to get you to open up. You won’t talk about it with your in-laws. They tell me—”
“You’ve taken this up with my in-laws? Behind my back?” he shouted. “Damn you, John. Where do you get off—”
“Your mother-in-law told me you’re reluctant even to speak Angela’s name.”
Mitch shot up out of his chair, his hands forming fists at his sides.
John didn’t even flinch. “What? Are you going to hit me?” he asked with maddening composure. “Threaten me with a broken bottle? Give me no choice but to fire you?” He waited, and when Mitch only stood there steaming, he said, “I’m begging you to listen to reason.”
He leaned down and picked up the sheet of paper, which Mitch had dropped when he came out of his chair. John pushed it toward him and pressed it against his chest, holding it there.
“Call one of these doctors today and make an appointment for tomorrow. If I don’t hear from one of them telling me that you’ve had your first session, don’t bother coming in on Tuesday. Are we clear?”
“You son of a bitch. You’re supposed to be myfriend.”
“I’m being your friend. Iamyour friend. I’d be no friend at all if I turned a blind eye and let you continue as you are.” He applied pressure to the sheet he still held against Mitch’s chest, then removed his hand.
Mitch caught the piece of paper as it fluttered toward the floor. He ripped it in half, then in half again and tossed the pieces into the air.
Unfazed, John said, “I’ll text the list to you. Think hard on this, Mitch. If you don’t care about what you’re doing to yourself, think about what you’re doing to Andrew.”
“Don’t… don’t…” He pointed his index finger at John’s face, but realized his hand was shaking. “Fuck you.” He shoved his chair under the desk and stormed out, glaring at anyone who dared to make eye contact.
Chapter 3
