“There’s another one we can take off the list as well.” Jenna blew out a long sigh. “Lana Peters moved out of town over a month ago. She has moved to Texas and is working as a prison guard. Rio called to see if she has been there for the entire time and she hasn’t taken any leave.”
“We’re currently on our way to visit Dr. Caleb Morrow, the trauma therapist.” Jo scrolled through files on her tablet. “It’s sometimes the people who don’t appear obvious who are the primary suspects. It is likely he won’t know who I am, so I may be able to get inside his head and find out what’s going on.”
“Best of luck. In the morning we’ll go over all the information and see what we can come up with.” Jenna sounded positive. “There must be a link that we can follow between these women. Oh, yes, I almost forgot, we got the report back from the mechanic regarding Roxanne Dunn’s vehicle. It states that there’s little doubt that someone tampered with the brakes. So now we can add her to the list of homicide victims.”
Carter glanced at Jo. “So, it’s no coincidence, someone is specifically targeting the women in the group who attend the self-defense classes. I figure we need to look outside the box for this one. Everyone we interview seems to be innocent, or they’re smart enough to cover their tracks better than we expected.”
“Well, you go and see Dr. Morrow. He might be the one you’re looking for.” Jenna’s footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor in her home. “Head home once you’re done. Rio has already sent the prisoners to County and I’ve told them to go home at five. At least we know for sure the Larkins weren’t involved with our victims. That’s an entirely different case for us to tackle if Norrell finds anything interesting. Don’t work too late. I’ll, catch you later.” She disconnected.
Dr. Morrow had an office inside his home near the hospital on Eagle Drive. His impressive redbrick home sat among others in this suburb. Newer than the rest of the town, this area of Black Rock Falls housed some of the wealthier residents. Red bricks had been used for buildings over one hundred years ago, and many lined the streets in town, however, in recent years, the new hospital and the university had brought people from all over the country. They in turn had preferred to build from materials other than logs. The same had happened throughout the new suburbs. Due to demand, the old brickyards had reopened after eighty years and, now automated, they were thriving. Homes made from Black Rock Falls red bricks were showing up all over the county and in other states as well.
The grass was a little long on each side of the footpath to Dr. Morrow’s front door and Carter’s gaze moved over the rosebushes out front. They had buds all over them and had obviously been trimmed before winter. As they approached the front door, the doctor’s shingle was prominently displayed above an arrow pointing to the wellness center and store. He looked at Jo. “Wellness center?”
“He likely has someone here to teach yoga or relaxation techniques.” Jo shrugged. “It works for some people.”
He rang the bell and a woman answered the door and gave them a quizzical stare. Carter held up his creds. “Special Agents Carter and Wells to see Dr. Morrow.”
“Do you have an appointment?” The woman, in her mid-fifties, lifted her chin in defiance. “I don’t recall seeing you on his schedule.”
“The FBI doesn’t need an appointment.” Jo smiled at the woman. “Will you please tell the doctor that we’re here and we require to ask him some questions. We won’t take up too much of his time.”
Carter leaned against the wall, chewing on his toothpick as they waited for the woman to speak to the doctor. He assumed she was his receptionist, but she could have been his wife for all he knew. Eventually they were led into a dimly lit warm-toned room. Soft music drifted toward them from a speaker set high on the wall. The scent of lavender wafted toward him from a diffuser humming in the corner. Behind a minimalist desk Dr. Caleb Morrow leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but alert. A middle-aged man with graying hair at the temples and slightly thin on top, he wore casual clothes. Bookcases lined the walls and under the window sat a line of filing cabinets with a set of keys hanging from them. Carter took a position by the door as Jo took the chair in front of the desk and crossed her legs.
“Dr. Morrow, thanks for seeing us. I’m sure your receptionist explained that we need to ask you a few questions. We are looking into the deaths of three women. It has come to our attention that you counseled at least two of them, those being Jan Pierce and Sierra Lang. Did you by any chance treat Roxanne Dunn?”
When the doctor didn’t reply, Carter narrowed his gaze. “I understand that you may be restrained from answering due to patient-doctor privilege, but as these women are considered to be victims of a homicide and as we have no next of kin to waive the conditions, we won’t be asking you any questions that might put you in a compromised position. This conversation is what you might call ‘off the record.’”
“I see.” Dr. Morrow nodded slowly, as if considering his position. “I guess if it leads to the arrest of the person responsible, I would be morally obliged. Yes, I worked with those three women, individually, not as a group.”
“We know they attended a self-defense class.” Jo folded her hands on her lap. “Did any of them mention feeling unsafe or threatened?”
“One of them believed that someone was watching her, but you must remember that trauma can manifest itself in silent withdrawal or misplaced trust.” Morrow nodded wisely.
“That’s an interesting choice of words.” Jo’s face held a blank expression. “Do you believe that any of them misplaced their trust in you?”
“Many women become attached to the therapists.” Morrow’s lips curled into a small smile. “It’s not unusual, but I maintain strict boundaries.”
Carter moved to stand on one side of Jo. “When women are vulnerable, boundaries can blur. Did you ever meet with any of them outside of your sessions?”
“No.” Morrow shook his head and something dark flashed in his eyes.
Carter picked up on the change of mood and so did Jo. As she was the expert, he waited for her to continue the questioning.
“Did anything any of them say set off alarm bells in regard to their safety?” Jo cleared her throat. “Did they mention being concerned about anyone else?”
“One of them did mention that someone in the self-defense group had a way of looking at her.” Morrow narrowed his gaze. “No names were mentioned. I asked how that made her feel and she said it was like the woman hated her for no reason.”
Carter snorted. “And now she’s dead.”
“My colleague mentioned that you believe programs like the self-defense classes and the support groups that come from them can trigger relapses.” Jo uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in the chair. “Is it your opinion that someone could have spiraled badly enough to kill?”
“Absolutely.” Morrow waved a hand in the air. “Trauma can distort reality sometimes. Especially if that person felt exposed, betrayed, or abandoned, it could tip them over the edge.”
“Or manipulated to kill.” Jo inclined her head. “Do you believe it’s possible to use therapy to push someone toward violence?”
“Hmm, that’s a loaded question.” Morrow leaned forward on the desk, clasping his hands together. “Therapy and hypnotism, which is often used during therapy, can become a weapon in the wrong hands.”
It was obvious to Carter that Morrow had no intention of naming names or offering any specific information about the women who’d died, apart from the fact that they’d attended his therapy sessions. Although they had discovered that this man couldn’t be trusted. He glanced at Jo and could tell by her blank expression that she’d have a ton of things to say once they left the building. He smiled at Morrow. “Thank you for your time. You’ve been a lot of help.”
