Just one chapter to go after this..........
"The worst reconciliation is better than the best divorce"
---
"Dr. Hart, you have a visitor."
"I am done for the day. Tell him to set an appointment for tomorrow."
"Actually she's here to talk to you."
Shannon shifted her glasses, "All right send her in."
Monica walked into the office, resolute in her objective of finding out the truth.
"Whatever it is make it quick, I am closing up for the day."
"Did you receive a call from a Simon Chase last week?"
Shannon narrowed her eyes.
"I did. Are you with the police?"
"Yes, now you have to tell me what that call was about."
"Mr. Chase was setting up an appointment with me."
Monica groaned inwardly, she knew it. There was a secret so big that Simon had to visit a psychoanalyst.
"I need to know exactly what happened during that meeting."
"That's doctor-patient confidentiality, I'm sorry but I can't tell you that."
"I'm not asking as a detective. I am his girlfriend, I need to know."
Shannon surveyed her intently over her glasses.
"Nice try but no way, I could lose my license for this."
"Let's try this again, this time I'm not asking. Tell me or else...."
"Or else what exactly?"
"Or else, your dirty little secret comes out. The one you kidnapped twenty years ago, imprisoned in a dungeon under your house and regularly force into sexual favours."
Dr. Hart did not move, her expression was one of shell-shock. Finally, she mustered up the words to respond.
"How do you know?"
"You don't have to know."
Heaving a sigh of futility, she conceded to the inevitable.
"So you want to know about Simon Chase?"
"Start at the beginning."
---
"No please just go away."
I was sobbing into my open palm.
"What are you waiting for now? She won't come back. You saw what she was doing to that guy. She never loved you, you were only a way to blow off steam."
"She did. It was my fault, I did not tell her about my secret."
"Oh sure, THAT would have helped a lot."
I really had no idea what to do.
"Just pick up your knife and get going."
"No more blood on my hands. I am going to go to a bar and have some hot sex with a girl. Not a hooker, not someone I have to kill."
Leaving my psychotic maternal apparition fuming, I put on my coat and drove off. The lights of the city were unusually bright as I opened the window to let the wind streak through my hair. I had this strange feeling coursing through my body. Freedom, sadness, exhilaration all at once.
"You remember the last time you had this feeling?"
Did I? I did. It was the precursor to some of my most satisfying murders.
"You left the knife in the glove compartment of your car after the last time. It's still there."
The offer sounded extremely tempting. After my breakup, suddenly I was a lot easier to tempt. I could feel every fibre in arm willing itself to unlock my compartment.
"NO."
I recoiled in disgust, but I could not deny it. The thought had crossed my mind. Just for a fleeting instant-- but it had.
I stopped the car to catch my breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, my eyes bugging out of my head. A film of sweat had formed over my face. The urges were back, stronger than ever.
"That's it. Now pick up the knife and go."
I smiled at her.
"I am going to a bar to pick up a girl. Not a hooker, not someone you can make me kill. I still win."
Leaving her fuming in my passenger seat, I made a beeline for the nearest bar. I was going to unleash several days of sexual and emotional frustration on some lucky girl and she would enjoy it.
Entering the bar, the first thing I noticed was the sheer volume of people inside. With hookers having become scarce on the streets, drunk, single girls at bars were the next available source of sex, a little harder to get and usually less satisfying, but free.
I scouted out the bar for a few minutes before finding my target. She was in her late twenties, with a demure look fixed on her face. Her face was pale and her hands were dainty. I could see that she was trying to ward off the unwanted attentions of some guys. I waited for her to discourage every prospective suitor into leaving. That would be my cue to slide up to her.
I waited all of ten minutes before she finally lost them. She had just ordered another drink when I took the next barstool.
"All right, now play it cool."
For the first few minutes, I did not even speak to her. I casually had my drink as I avoided looking in her direction. It was a time tested fact--girls get curious when a guy is not paying them enough attention.
Soon enough, I could feel her eyes wandering over my body. She was checking me out. I innocently glanced over to see her intently surveying me over the rim of her glass. The trick was working.
I paid for the martini and gave quite a generous tip alongside. I was on fire, pulling out all the stops for her. I had to be, if I did not get into her pants, the temptation to pick up a hooker (and the knife) would be too strong. Maybe it could become a real relationship sometime later.
It did not take very long before I piqued her interest enough for her to initiate small talk. One of the key points--always let her make the first move.
"So, what is a handsome guy like you doing all alone?"
"Hoping I can drink away the sorrow of my breakup. Just hoping."
"Aww...... you poor thing, come here." she said, nestling her head on my shoulder.