The New Patient (Dr. Epstein's Couch: Criminal Minds Series) (4 page)

I walk out to reception interrupting Phyllis as she rifles through her desk, “Phyllis, remember we’re leaving early tonight. Be ready to go by 4.30, okay?”

She looks up with concern in her eyes, “Sure, John. Your next appointment isn’t scheduled until two, did you want me to phone the deli and have your lunch sent up?”

“That would be good.”

“Oh, and do you have any extra prescription pads in you room?”

“No, just the spare I always keep in the desk. Why?”

She seems a little confused. “Nothing, just early Alzheimer’s, I thought I’d ordered plenty for the next couple of months, but we’re short again.”

I shrug, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to prescribe more than usual.”

The rest of the afternoon seems to float past. I’m comfortable behind my glass again.

5:15pm

I pull into Ivan’s wide drive and park under one of the large trees in his front garden. Now mostly retired, Ivan only sees a handful of patients. I am a former student but he continues to see me because he decided I should maintain my bond to him—given my attachment issues.

He is what I consider to be a real therapist. I know I’ll never match his skills, or his compassion and I’m grateful he continues to make time for me.

I ring the doorbell and soon he answers. It seems like he’s been wearing variations of pressed slacks, shirts and hand knitted cardigans for years and I realise I’m comforted rather than bored by the familiarity—rare for me. He smiles warmly and takes my hand giving it a shake, “John. Come in. It’s good to see you again.”

He leads me into his study, there’s a fire started and we sit opposite each other in deep old armchairs. I can feel myself unfurl in the warmth. After some brief chatter he settles back and waits.

I talk.

At the end of our hour together I’m emotionally lighter, but bone tired. The fatigue pulls at my concentration on the way home and I know I need an early night. The phone rings as I pull into my drive. It’s Bob but having decided I’ve had enough shit for one day, I let it go to message.

7:45pm

Having heated up some left over Thai, I wash up and set about changing my sheets. I dump the sheets with some other washing in the machine and start back upstairs, when there’s a loud knock at the door. Checking my security monitor I see Bob standing outside.

I let him inside, anxiety curling in my gut. “What’s going on Bob?”

“Monica Riordan, friend of yours I believe?” he asks.

There’s a seriousness in his eyes that actually scares me. The fact that he’s sober at this time of night scares me even more. I walk inside and sit heavily on a dining room chair motioning for him to join me. “Yeah, we’ve had a friendship.”

Bob sits and looks at me earnestly, no fucking around now. This is the side of Bob I like. “Monica was found dead in her unit this afternoon.”

“How did she die?” I ask numbly.

“Looks like an overdose. Did you know she was taking Valium?” he asks.

“No. I met her two months ago, we only caught up a handful of times. I didn’t know her very well,” I explain.

Bob nods , “Listen Doc, I have to ask, when did you last see her?”

“Only this morning,” I feel sick.

“It looks like a suicide. We followed Kyle downtown this afternoon and CCTV footage shows him talking to Monica after his appointment with you. They spent a couple of hours at a café and left separately. There was no other contact after that, we’re sure of it,” he finishes.

I get up, throw up in my toilet and wash my face. When I return Bob’s putting the kettle on.

My head is thick with shock. Guilt twists inside my chest, “This is punishment,” I say quietly, “I told Kyle I’m referring him back to the Sex Offender’s Program and that I doubt his rehabilitation. He’d be aware of the CCTV footage. He wants me to know he’s involved with her. God knows what happened in that meeting.”

Bob looks at me and nods. “Sick prick,” he says as he pours the tea, “I don’t know what he said to her, but she’d been taking anti-depressants for years. Family says she tried to kill herself and was hospitalised in Wyama as a teenager. I gotta tell you Doc, this is just the start. If we don’t get the bastard behind bars he’ll keep on killing.”

How would Kyle know Monica’s vulnerability? For a split second hate surges in my veins, he is fox smart and has nothing but time on his hands. He could easily follow her from here. It wouldn’t take much for him to convince her to trust him. God knows what she’d disclosed to him.

I become calm, distantly I feel my shock settle into something cold, “Don’t worry Bob. He’s going back.”

Week Three

Monday August 8th, 6:30am

Nursing my morning coffee I scan the updated security monitors I’ve had installed. The black and white images provide reasonable resolution and afford me a 360-degree view around the bottom floor of my townhouse. The tree near the drive slightly obscures one corner during the day, but at night it’s a blind spot of shadow. I decide to have the branches lopped. I want to be ready for my intruder when he comes to get me.

I down the rest of my coffee and make my way to work. I’m curious about how Kyle will present today. He wanted me to know he’s involved with Monica. Harder to know whether he knew she was going to kill herself. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen the M.O...and I’ve no doubt Kyle’s capable of talking someone vulnerable into suicide.

7:15am

I park, lock up the car and wave to the on-duty officer across the road. He waves back, smiling tightly. I barely even register the security screens and Phyllis’ absence anymore as I open up the building and head straight to my consulting room.

Almost immediately, the phone rings. “Hello, Bob.”

“Morning, Doc. You’re up bright and early.” I realise he must have had a call from my friend across the street. “Ready to do business with our mate?” he asks.

Visualising Kyle’s smug grin triggers a quick surge of contempt. “You could say that,” I respond evenly. 

“You sure you’re up for this, Doc?” I could tell Bob was starting to worry about me, “I mean, this type of thing isn’t exactly your area.”

If only you knew, I think to myself. “Are you doubting me, Bob?”

“I wouldn’t say its doubt, Doc. Think it through, that’s all I’m sayin’. There’s a shitload of shit coming your way, that’s all.”

I chuckle, “that was almost poetry, Bob.”

“Ah, fuck off,” he says.

9:00am

Evelyn Lyons walks in, sits carefully and offers me a watery smile.

“Hello, Evelyn,” I respond. She’s modernized her hair; it’s darker, shorter, and makes her look like a woman in her fifties, rather than the sixty-three year old I know her to be. The attention to her appearance suggests she’s stabilising and I resolve to keep her on the same dosage of her antidepressant for a while longer.

“Hello, Doctor.” She insists on calling me that, despite my numerous attempts to get her to refer to me as John. Part of her wants the safety of subjugation.

“Evelyn. We’ve talked about this. I’m John. Your smart enough not to need me to tell you what to do.” I smile to soften the blow of my words.

She smiles and nods, she takes criticism too easily, she’s always ready to blame herself. “I know. Sorry, it’s not how I was raised. It feels wrong somehow,” she explains.

“And you’ve always done what others expect of you.”

She nods and starts to cry, “Everything has changed. I used to know what was expected, what I had to do...so I did it. I was a good wife and mother. I can’t understand him leaving me.” She blows her nose, plucking multiple tissues from the box and dabbing her eyes .

I move closer, “How are things going with Sonia?” I ask.

She draws a shaky breath, “She certainly is thorough.”

I smile inwardly. ‘Obsessed’ would be more accurate. I make a mental note to have Phyllis call Sonia for a check-up. Just to be sure she wasn’t forgetting her boundaries again. “Yes, she has an excellent reputation,” I lie smoothly.

The next fifteen minutes are spent helping Evelyn to work through her guilt about the property settlement.

I think about the whisky waiting for me at home. I think about punching Kyle Stevens in the face.

11:00am

I walk into the reception area, Phyllis sits at her desk talking into the hands free headset while she clicks and types into the appointment calendar. I wait for her to finish. “Phyllis, is Khia Morrison here?”

She looks up and shakes her perfectly styled head, “No, I think she’s a no-show today. I tried her phone and left a message,” she explains.

“Okay, thanks. Who do I have next?”

She clicks her monitor and pulls the file as she answers, “Kyle Stevens at 11:30. Do you want me to phone for a coffee?”

I’m a little surprised to feel excitement start to beat in my chest. I realise I’m looking forward to seeing him. No...it’s more than that. I want to do battle. “No thanks, would you just let me know when he gets here?” I snag the file from her and head toward my office.

“Sure...John! Are you alright?” she asks as I turn to face her.