One PP
November 17, 10.00 a.m.
A couple of hours after walking the crime scene, Tom Harper left Eddie Kasper to talk to the profilers at the FBI’s New York field office. Later he arrived right on time for his appointment at One PP. He knocked on the fake mahogany door of the suite on the fifth floor. The little brass sign read Dr Denise Levene, Ph. D.
On the wall hung a little certificate: Dr Denise Levene, a fellow of the American Psychological Association, was honored as Distinguished Psychologist of the Year in 2003-4 for her pioneering contributions in cognitive behavioral psychotherapy.
A warm voice from inside the office shouted, ‘Come in.’ Harper did as he was told. He had to these days. He pushed the heavy door across the thick carpet and stepped inside.
There she was, Dr Denise Levene, sitting in a high-backed black leather chair in a white blouse, writing in her desk diary.
Harper stood in the entrance and waited for her to look up. She didn’t. It gave him a second or two to run his eyes over her. Blond hair. He hadn’t expected that. Young, too. She had a petite frame. Then she looked up and a pair of bright blue eyes held his gaze directly. She was pretty, for a shrink.
‘Welcome. Take a seat,’ she said.
Harper remained standing.
‘Take a seat, please,’ she said and smiled, all nice and accommodating.
‘Look, if you’re going to get all hooked on me, why don’t you just say something now and we can end this.’
She didn’t blink. Good on her.
‘Take a seat, Harper.’ She was forceful now.
He stood his ground, unsure how to play this one. Levene leaned back in her leather chair and chewed the end of her pen. ‘I get it. I’m blonde. I’m a woman. I’ve got letters after my name. You don’t know what to do with me, do you, Mr Harper?’
‘It’s Detective Harper,’ said Tom, flexing the muscles in his shoulders.
‘Not according to your file, cowboy. Not unless I agree you’re fit for duty. Officially, you’re still on suspension.’
Harper sighed. She was a smart-ass. Just what he needed. A curt little city girl with an answer for everything. ‘All right, let’s get this over with,’ he said, moving into the room and sitting reluctantly on a wide brown couch. He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. After he’d hit Jarvis the first time, they had made him sit through sessions with some tight-faced therapist who responded to every remark with ‘Well, that’s good. So gooood.’ He’d ended up blaming the therapist for destroying his career. Too much thought can kill you as surely as too little.
Levene tipped further back in her chair. She studied Tom for a moment, unafraid of his negativity or of the silence. She was trying to get some angle. Tom felt her eyes on him and he lifted his head and stared back. She was confident. Dealt with his type before, maybe. Knew the road.
‘Let’s get some shit out of the way first,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to be here. Fine. I can read you like a book. You need to display your cynicism and negativity because you feel threatened in here. I understand that. But you don’t need to feel threatened. I’m here to help.’
‘I don’t feel threatened. You’re way off the mark.’
‘Not physically threatened, Detective. I mean emotionally threatened.’
‘Well, what do you expect? They didn’t teach us the moves to deal with an emotional attack at the academy.’
‘I like your sense of humour, Detective, but it’s just another way of deflecting the blows.’
‘I’m not afraid, Doctor. I’m just pissed off that you’re wasting my time.’
‘You don’t think this will help? Fine with me. You just want your shield and minimum fuss. Fine also. I’m not that interested in you, to tell the truth. I’ve worked with enough guys like you to know that I’d be wasting my time too.’
‘Well then, that’s all nice and easy for the two of us. Let’s just do the minimum and sign this off.’
‘Okay. Let’s do that. You need a clean psych assessment, right?’
‘Right.’
‘And you’re sure you’ve got that anger thing under control.’
‘Sure.’
‘So those bloody knuckles are just for effect, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Okay. Let’s do the minimum. You sign up for ten sessions and I’ll sign this psych form right now.’
‘Ten sessions? Fuck that. I want the minimum.’
‘That is the minimum, Detective. I had planned a couple of sessions, but after meeting you I realize we’re going to have to go in deep and that’s going to take time.’
‘No way. I’m fine. You know that and I know that, so sign the form and let me get back out on the streets.’
‘You don’t sign up for ten, I’m not letting you out on the street at all. You’re not fit.’
‘How do you know? You haven’t even assessed me!’
‘I can see everything I need to — you’re spoiling for a fight, you’re resentful and negative, and you have no idea what to do with those little things called emotions. So, in my view, you’re not ready to be issued a gun. But if you sign up for ten sessions, then that’s going to convince me that you do want to help yourself and help resolve the anger. You sign up, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’
‘So it’s Catch-22?’
‘No, it’s CBT. Cognitive behavioural therapy. We focus on practical strategies to manage your behaviour and we focus on the now. I don’t need to go back to your childhood and I don’t go looking for your subconscious. I don’t try to interpret your world. I couldn’t give a damn about why you do things or what you think. All I know is that I can change those things.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘We agree behaviour we want, call it Behaviour A, and we agree behaviour we don’t, call it Behaviour B. In stage one, we set about noticing how much we are drawn to Behaviour A and Behaviour B. Stage two, we put in some rewards for Behaviour A and some sanctions for Behaviour B. So you see, we just retrain your mind a little and maybe your emotions, but they are secondary. We focus on getting the actions we want; the emotions will follow. But first, we got to agree what the problem is.’ Denise laid her arms on the desk. She was tanned and her silver charm bracelet rattled against the wood. She looked towards Tom for a reaction. ‘If there is a problem,’ she said.
‘Not my problem.’
‘Still a problem, though.’
‘Not worth your time. Nice as you are.’
‘Let’s dispose of the attitude,’ said Dr Levene. ‘I get it. I get it you don’t like me or trust me. I get it you don’t really think psychologists can help, period. I get it you like being angry. You’re a man. I get it. Why don’t you try to be a little more interesting? I could tell right from the moment you walked in that you’re a very emotional guy. I can see it in your curled lip and your twitching hands. So be emotional. Make my day.’
Tom half smiled. She was good. He could see why the guys liked her. And she was good to look at too, if you didn’t mind the stuck-up, college-educated aura.
‘Looks like you’re the one with the attitude,’ he told her.
‘But I didn’t screw up my job. That was all you, and looking at you I’d say you did it all by yourself. Hope she was worth it.’
Harper stood. He walked over to her desk.
‘That simple, is it?’ he growled. ‘This is some problem you’re about to turn around? Solve my anger? I don’t care what you do. I’m here because this is my only option to save some lives.’
‘You’ve got this saving-lives fantasy to a T,’ she said. ‘Hero cop with bad attitude cos he cares too damn much. Lover walks out, again, because he loves too damn much. Why the hell is the world mistreating Mr Perfect? You need to get your head out of your ass. If she left you, she left you for reasons belonging to both of you.’
Harper was riled. He stared hard at Dr Levene. ‘Don’t believe what you hear, Levene. I read people too. You talk tough and act tough, but you’re scared of me. I can smell it.’
Levene smiled, but his aim was good.
‘You want more?’ Tom said. ‘I come in the door. You’re writing but you’ve got nothing to write. Look on your pad. It’s empty. You’re play-acting. You’ve done your second blouse button up too, but I can see by the crease that it’s been open all morning. You’ve turned your personal photos away from me and you’ve turned your certificates out.. Jesus, you’re the one hiding, not me. Main motivation with you — to get what you want.’
‘Right on all but the last point. Main motivation is wildly off the mark.’
‘You know what? I think you’re flirting with me, Dr Levene.’ Tom leaned right over the desk.
‘You’re in my space, cowboy. Back right off.’
‘Get you excited when I’m that close?’
‘Yeah, the smell of whisky at ten in the morning really turns me on.’
‘Quit your games.’
‘You first.’
‘You sit here in Suite No. 32B. All the signs that you are a made-it lady. You even solve people’s problems. I bet you feel great. But out there, Dr Levene, out there is a maniac who tortures his victims and takes body parts. Watching them die and convulse as he.. Shit, lady. He tore open a woman’s chest, cut out her heart and then went home. Went off to his day job.’
Levene nodded. ‘That’s the emotion I was talking about. Nice to see it as it really is.’ The smile had left her face.
‘My problems don’t amount to anything worth State dollars, so yes I resent the waste of everyone’s time.’
A lesser doctor would have ended the session right there and then. Pressed the small red security button and had this psycho cop from the dark ages towed away. But that wasn’t Levene’s way and that wasn’t how Levene succeeded when others failed. She smiled. Unbuttoned the second button on her blouse, turned the photos out and the certificates in.
‘Just seeing how good you are, cowboy. Now let’s get to work.’
Tom went for the door. ‘I’ve signed to ten sessions, right? Well, let’s keep them short. Session one over. Nine more to go.’
‘Then you agree to come back?’
‘If it’s the only way I can get out there to work this killer, then I’ll endure you.’
‘Fine. But I want you back here tomorrow. I need to get started right away if you’re going to stay out of trouble, Detective.’