Page 89 of Rules

"Nothing," I muttered, avoiding her gaze. "He's a tad confused about where his territory ends."

"Mmm-hmm." Her tone made it clear she didn't believe me for a second.

"What?" I asked, eyeing her.

She put her hands in the air, "Nothing, nothing, you have a message about your mandatory appointment. I printed the forms and put them on your desk. From the looks of them it should be a rip roaring good time."

Blowing out a huffed breath I went to my office and hit the play button on my desk phone.

"Sheriff Trenton, this is Dr. Salinger's office calling to confirm your appointment tomorrow. Please remember to bring your completed intake forms. Thank you."

Therapy. In the midst of everything else, I'd almost forgotten about Clark's mandatory referral. The last thing I needed right now was to be gone. The drive to the capital would take hours then having to sit and listen to this Dr. Salinger ask about my feelings on catching a killer. I can't wait. If I see Clark, I'll be explaining to the Dr. why I broke the police commissioner's nose. Now that would be a rip roaring good time.

Chapter 31

Tobias

The drive to the capital was a miserable three hours of construction delays, detours, and rain that never quite decided whether to pour or drizzle. My mood matched the weather—gray, unsettled, and threatening to turn worse at any moment.

First thing I did this morning, in an attempt to reschedule this madness was call Clark. His smart ass response was that the appointment was already set, meaning I had no choice. Then his asking if I want to meet for dinner was like the cherry on the top of my mood.

"Clark, I couldn't be leaving my team at a worse time. And why am I doing it? Because you pulled rank and think I need to talk to a psychiatrist to make sure I'm managing my stress the rightway. Let me just say that if I see you, I'm going to clock you right in your pretty face. So, it's probably best if we skip dinner." I hung up on him when he started laughing.

The rest of the morning was spent making preparations, methodically checking off items on my mental list. Brooklyn was in charge, with explicit instructions to call me for anything remotely significant. Law had grudgingly agreed to stay in town rather than chasing down one of his "hunches" about Michael's whereabouts. I'd scheduled extra patrols through the business districts, particularly the areas we anticipated might be targeted next. And I'd made Holly promise to keep her radio on all day, just in case.

"For God's sake, you've left town before," she'd said, rolling her eyes as I recited her responsibilities for the third time. "It's not like you're going to another country, you're hours away. Stop micromanaging and leave."

"I'm not micromanaging. Okay, I am but I haven't left before with a killer on the loose and break-ins happening every few days," I'd replied, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing me since I woke. But she was right, I was micromanaging. I knew my team was more than capable of handling things for a day. I'll be back tomorrow. What's the worst that can happen in twenty-four hours?

I'd decided to leave Ruth out of my thoughts today. I know I need to fix things, even if nothing comes from it. I can't leave her thinking what I said about her was the truth. Perhaps I'm not ready to tell her everything but I certainly don't want her thinking she's the reason I'm struggling. That's the coward's way out and I've already been down that road.

Now, as I pulled into the parking garage of the nondescript office building housing the state police psychiatrist, I was still questioning the necessity of this trip. The last thing Whispering Pines needed was its sheriff wasting time with mandatedtherapy while a murderer roamed free. But even more than that the last thing I needed was my badge pulled. I love Clark, he's been like my brother for years, so, I know when he's serious and unfortunately that bastard is serious about this. Jackass.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor gave me time to rehearse my approach. I'd answer the questions perfunctorily, demonstrate emotional stability, and show this doctor I can handle my job. Then I'd be at Joe's enjoying a cheeseburger before I knew it. Simple.

The waiting room was everything I expected from a government-contracted psychiatrist: beige walls, outdated magazines, and furniture that suggested comfort without actually providing it. A young receptionist looked up from her computer as I approached.

"Sheriff Trenton?" she asked, though the uniform made it obvious. "Dr. Salinger will be with you shortly. You can have a seat." The receptionist passed me a clipboard with standard medical forms for me to fill out.

I nodded, choosing a chair with a clear view of both the entrance and the inner office door. Force of habit. When the door opened it revealed a woman who exactly matched my expectations. A drill sergeant. Dr. Salinger was somewhere in her sixties, with a straight-backed posture that reminded me of the military officers I'd served under. Her silver hair was cropped short in a practical style, and she wore a crisp charcoal pantsuit, a sensible pair of black shoes and a single strand of pearls. No smile, no cheery greeting. Man, I was going to get Clark for this.

"Sheriff Trenton," she said, her crisp voice carrying a hint of an accent I couldn't quite place. "Come in."

Her office was exactly like her appearance. Walls lined with bookshelves filled with an eclectic mix of psychiatric texts, military history, and what appeared to be first-edition classics.A large window overlooked the capital building in the distance, and her desk was positioned to face the door rather than the view, another habit of someone who preferred vigilance to scenery.

"Take a seat," she gestured to a leather armchair positioned at an angle to her own. Not directly facing each other, an interesting choice that somehow made the arrangement feel less confrontational.

I sat, maintaining what I hoped was a neutral expression.

"I understand the Commissioner ordered this evaluation," she said, settling into her own chair. "How do you feel about that?"

"It's a waste of time," I replied honestly. "I have active investigations that require my attention."

"Mmm." She made no move to write anything down. "And yet here you are."

"I wasn't going to lose my badge."

"Tell me," she cocked her head to one side. "What made the Commissioner set up this appointment?"

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