The next call that Mary placed wasn’t to the police. She called her therapist, Dr. Lillian Fox, asking for an emergency appointment. And that was why that morning, at exactly 11:00 a.m., Mary was being ushered into Dr. Fox’s office.
Mary took a seat at the usual couch, but she didn’t sit back, like she usually did. This time, she sat right at the edge of theseat… only the tips of her shoes touching the floor… her hands clasped together and stuck between her thighs – textbook defensive posture.
In over two years of therapy, Dr. Fox had never seen that look on Mary’s face – an unsettling mixture of doubt and pure fear that was truly worrying.
‘Would you like a glass of water?’ Dr. Fox asked, already pouring Mary a glass from the jug on her desk.
Mary’s jittery eyes met the doctor’s. ‘Thank you,’ she took the glass, but didn’t sip the water. She simply held it with both hands, resting it on her lap.
‘Mary, what’s going on?’ Dr. Fox asked, taking a seat in her usual wingback Chesterfield armchair, but this time she did not have her notepad with her, and she did not activate the recording device either, which indicated that she wasn’t treating this as a regular session. ‘Does this have anything to do with the bruises?’ Her tone was concerned, but not rushed.
‘You mean the ones on me?’ Mary asked.
‘Yes,’ Dr. Fox replied. ‘The ones on your body, Mary. The ones that have nothing to do with you being clumsy.’
Mary used her thumb and forefinger to rub her eyes, as if she was fighting back tears. ‘No,’ Mary finally replied, with a nervous shake of the head. ‘This has got nothing to do with that, but I’d like to give you this.’ She reached for the package that she had brought with her and handed it to Dr. Fox. ‘If you could please keep it for me.’
‘What is this?’ Dr. Fox asked, accepting the package.
Under normal circumstances… if everything had gone to plan, the ‘evidence package’ was only posted to the therapist during the opening week of the trial, but these were far from normal circumstances, and Mary had learned a long time ago that it truly was much better to be safe than sorry.
‘Just… photographs and tapes documenting everything.’
Dr. Fox tried to read Mary’s eyes. ‘Everything as in… what?’
Mary didn’t reply.
‘Mary, if you’re in danger, you have to let me know. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.’
‘I don’t know if I am yet,’ Mary finally replied. ‘But let’s call that insurance.’ She nodded at the package. ‘You can look at the photos and listen to the tapes later, but I didn’t ask for an emergency appointment to discuss what’s in there.’
‘OK.’ The doctor’s analyzing gaze stayed on Mary. ‘So please tell me the reason for the emergency appointment.’ She sat back down on her chair. ‘Because from where I’m sitting, Mary, you look like you’re one step away from a meltdown.’
Mary finally had a sip of her water.
‘OK,’ she began, with a deep breath. ‘I’m not even going to waste your time or insult your intelligence by trying to convince you of a hypothetical situation, with “let’s suppose”, or defer the scenario to someone else with “asking for a friend” – kind of bullshit. If I did that, you’d know that I was talking about myself, anyway, and that the situation wasn’t hypothetical at all, wouldn’t you?’
Dr. Fox nodded. ‘By creating a hypothetical situation, or deferring the scenario to someone else, the person believes that—’
‘I really don’t need an explanation, Doc,’ Mary cut her short. ‘What I need is some advice. And you’re the best person for that right now.’
‘OK.’ Dr. Fox didn’t seem offended by the interruption. ‘So how can I help?’
‘I need advice about… going to the police,’ Mary said, her gaze moving down to the glass of water on her lap.
‘And what do you think that you should contact the police about?’
‘I, by chance, discovered something about a friend,’ Mary lied. ‘Something criminal.’
Mary knew that if she tried to hit Dr. Fox with ‘my friendfound out that her husband has a secret room in their house’, the doctor would immediately know that she was talking about her own husband, not a friend’s. But she didn’t want Dr. Fox to know that the person at the center of what she was just about to reveal was Quaddra. At least not yet.
‘OK. How criminal are we talking about here?’
‘The worst kind. The kind that can land the person on death row.’
‘Murder.’ Dr. Fox didn’t phrase it as a question.
‘That’s the one,’ Mary confirmed.
