She went down the hall to Dr. Wilson’s office. The police psychologist opened the door after her tentative knock. She was a diminutive woman, neatly dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. The bell of her smooth ash-blonde hair swung as she gestured Lei in.
“You must be Ms. Texeira. Come on in and get comfortable.”
Lei took a seat in the corner. The room was furnished simply with a couch and several deep, cushy chairs. Amateurish paintings decorated the walls, and there was a low coffee table with a Japanese sand garden on it, complete with a tiny rake.
The psychologist took another chair across from Lei. She had a clipboard and a pen.
“Just a few housekeeping items before we get started,” she said briskly. “You have six mandatory sessions. This one was scheduled, but we will set up the next one at a time we agree on. This time is completely confidential and I keep very few notes. However, at the end of your last session I have to fill out this assessment form.” She held up the clipboard showing the form. “I have to give you a rating as to how engaged you were in the process and my opinion as to whether you are fit for duty. Needless to say that’s a big axe to have hanging over your head, so I am going to remove it now.”
She filled out the form. The 1–5 rating scale on engagement was circled at 4.5, and she printed “Fit for Duty” in the outcome area. She signed it, a bold Patrice Wilson, Ph. D., and held it up.
“I have never felt this was the way to treat people,” she said. “Now we can put that behind us and just see what comes up.”
She folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope, sealing the edge and writing “Lieutenant Ohale” on the front. She laid it on the coffee table and sat back comfortably.
“Isn’t that unethical?” Lei frowned.
“Isn’t it unethical to expect counseling to work with that kind of threat hanging over the process?”
“I don’t know. I think this whole thing is bogus.”
“So do I. But they still pay me.”
Astonishingly, she snickered. It was such an undignified noise coming from such a polished, respectable-looking woman that Lei just stared.
“Want something to drink?” Dr. Wilson asked, getting up and going to a little mini fridge in the corner. Lei halfway expected her to hold up a booze bottle, the way things had been going, but she just held up a water. Lei took it, realizing she was parched from the busy day. Might as well shock this lady, she thought, draining the water bottle.
“I was raped when I was nine.”
“Huh,” said Dr. Wilson, sitting back down. “You’d be surprised how many police officers were.”
Again Lei was off balance, flummoxed. Her other counselor had been warm, teasing the story out of her by inches, affirming her all the way.
“Female police officers, I should say,” Dr. Wilson clarified. “Some guys get into the force because they like being aggressive. Got a lot of wife beaters around here.”
“Huh,” Lei said, mimicking her. “Well, it was my mom’s boyfriend.”
“What did you do about it?”
Again the unexpected response. Lei felt the heat of rage roar up her neck. “I fucking took it. I was nine years old for chrissake. What the hell kind of counselor are you?”
Dr. Wilson said nothing. Lei felt the anger recede, felt the pressure of her secret easing. She settled back into the couch.
“I guess I didn’t just take it. I got good with weapons. I decided no one was ever going to do that to me again.”
Dr. Wilson inclined her head. “Nice,” she said. “You’re a fighter. How are your relationships with men? Do you have sex?”
“Not if I can help it,” Lei said. “I’d like to, but I get all frozen.”
“So are you gay?”
“What the hell? No, I’m not gay!”
“Okay. So have you been to counseling before?”
“Yeah. I went to my Aunty’s when my mom died of an overdose. She sent me to a bunch of them.”
“Was it helpful?”
“Some of them were. Mostly not. The one I went to in college helped me the most. She gave me some things to do when I… disappear.”
“So you dissociate?”
“Is that what you call it? Yeah, I do sometimes. It’s under control though. It doesn’t interfere with the job.” Not too much, I hope, she thought.
“Tell me about the last time you dissociated.”
“Recently.” Lei thought of the pictures on the Reynolds’s computer. “Can I talk about a case?”
“Only if it’s relevant… and, it’s all relevant.”
“Okay. The last time I almost checked out was this afternoon. We found some pictures of the girls who were murdered. I got a really sick feeling, kinda dizzy. I had things to do so I left the room, and when I came back in the other detectives were still looking at the pictures and I got super mad. I just wanted to kill them, and him most of all, the guy who did it.”
“Go on.”
“I know I just said it didn’t interfere with the job but sometimes I think it does. Like today. And the thing that made me have to come in for counseling.”
She took a deep breath and told Dr. Wilson about the stalker, how she thought the murder investigation and the stalker were connected somehow, though she hadn’t yet found the link. She finished with how she’d gone after the stalker with her gun and dog.
“If I had been thinking clearly I wouldn’t have done that.”
“I don’t know.” Dr. Wilson shrugged. “If it had worked, it would have been awesome.”
“Yeah. It would have.” Lei broke into a grin. This was the first time anyone had said anything positive about her action. “I’ll get him next time. Only, the guys are hovering around, taking turns keeping an eye on me. Detective Stevens has been sleeping over to guard me.”
“One.” Dr. Wilson held up her hand, folding down her fingers as she made her points. “The guys think the stalker is a real threat and you’re in danger. Ergo, you should take it seriously too. Two: Stevens may have more than helping in mind when he stays over. Three: maybe these cases are connected and you could bust the stalker and find the murderer at the same time. Tell me again what makes you think they’re connected?”
“I don’t really know.” Lei rubbed her hands up and down her slacks. “I just have a feeling. I’m also freaked out about Mary.” She filled the psychologist in on her budding friendship with Mary, and the other woman’s disappearance.
“It doesn’t seem all that farfetched that this is all connected somehow,” Dr. Wilson said. A tiny line had appeared between her smooth sandy brows. “How often do we have a case of unknown stalking, drowning, and disappearance in Hilo? I wouldn’t be surprised if more comes out when Mary is found.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Well, your time’s up. Let’s get together next week, same time.”
“Okay,” Lei stood up, headed for the door, and then turned back. “This wasn’t so bad. Thanks.”
“Oh, music to my ears,” Dr. Wilson said, laughing. “You did all the work and I get the credit. That’s why I love my job.”
Lei went straight to her desk. She knew she should go back to help with the search, but she hadn’t had time to do anything about Mary. She sat down and called the Puna Police Department.
“I might have a lead on Mary Gomes,” Lei said when she was transferred to the investigator on the case, Lono Smith. “I got delivered a piece of long black hair from someone who’s been stalking me. I thought it might be Mary’s. It was dropped off at my house with a threatening note.”
“Do you have it logged in to evidence?” Lono asked. She could hear the clicking of his keyboard.
“Yes. If you want to compare Mary’s hair and what the stalker left, it’s here at South Hilo Station.”
“On my way,” Lono said. “We move fast for our own.”
“Glad to hear it.” Lei felt her throat close. She cleared it, blinking. “The hair has no follicles though-it will have to be a visual comparison.”
“That’s fine. I’ll keep in touch.” He rang off.
Lei sat back in her squeaking orange chair, did a few spins to discharge stress as she called Stevens.
“Still need me?” she asked when he picked up.
“Nope. We cleared out just ahead of Reynolds and his lawyer,” he said. “I have the computer with me. We’re going to do a more thorough search at the station. You can call it a day-I’ll be by later.”
She sat silently, thinking of what Dr. Wilson had said.
“Okay.”
“What, you feeling all right? No arguing?”
“I’ve decided to rely on my senior officer’s estimation of the situation.”
He laughed. “Oh that’s just great. Now I’m a senior. Just don’t forget that futon.” He clicked off.
She smiled, shutting down her workstation and feeling the triangle of Stevens’ note as she left the building. She headed out to Wal-Mart and bought a set of twin sheets, a new pillow, and a futon. Who knows, I might need it for guests, she told herself, stowing it in the truck.
She remembered the package slip from the other night. She still had time to swing by the post office and pick it up, so she pulled into the crowded parking lot and redeemed the package-a thick bubble-padded manila envelope.
Her name and address were printed on it in block letters. There appeared to be a small box inside. There was no return address, and it was postmarked Hilo. She set it on the passenger seat.
She glanced over at it again and again as she drove home, torn between getting the suspense over with and opening it at home with Stevens or Pono. The sun dropped long red rays to the west ahead of her. She speed-dialed Mary’s phone and it went to voicemail again. Time could be running out for her friend.
“Mary, where are you?” she cried into the phone and snapped it shut. She hit the steering wheel, but it didn’t help-nothing did. Her friend was gone.