Page 45 of The Therapist
‘Felix, stop it, stop it,’ he hears Lila shout and he gives up trying to understand anything, putting everything back and going downstairs before World War III breaks out between his children.
‘I’m doing dinner now, guys,’ he tells them, ‘but if you fight, no pizza. I’ll eat it all myself.’ The kids are instantly quiet.
Should he call the detective back now? The man hasn’t called again but what if he shows up here?
He grabs his own phone from his pocket and googles, ‘How long does it take police to track a phone?’ and spends five minutes lost in the legal intricacies of police tracking phones and needing permission and using cell phone towers as the oven heats up.
It’s not as simple as it’s made out to be, obviously. Mindful of what could happen over the next few days, he deletes his browsing history.
The ideal thing would be if she were dead. Then he would have a hundred thousand dollars to help him manage and that’s a lot of breathing room. Her being dead would actually be the best outcome.
EIGHTEEN
Lana
I have half an hour until my next patient arrives and all I want to do is get up and leave right now, fetch my child early and lock the both of us in my house, but I already told Kirsty I would wait for my next patient so I have no choice.
At least Iggy is at school and safe. Mike knows that I have a child – someone I will do anything to protect.
I went to his house and I am sure that he’s not above coming to my home. Perhaps I should call Ben and talk to him about this but after the way he reacted when I told him about going over to Mike and Sandy’s house, I have no desire to tell him that he was right about everything. And he has enough to deal with right now with whatever is going on with his parents overseas.
Sitting down at my desk, I take Detective Franks’ card out of my wallet, running my fingers across the smooth flat surface as I bite down on my lip. I wish I didn’t have to call him but I know I need to report Mike for coming here. He didn’t threaten me exactly but he grabbed me and I felt vulnerable and scared. Who knows what would have happened if Kirsty had not returned from getting coffee?
Before I call him, I make one last attempt at calling Sandy. She doesn’t answer and an automated voice tells me that her mailbox is full. A very bad sign. She hasn’t listened to any new messages for a while.
I dial the detective’s number, expecting to get his voicemail, but he answers.
‘Franks here.’
‘Detective Franks, this is Lana Stanton. I came to see you this morning.’
‘Ah yes, Ms Stanton…’
‘I need to tell you that Mike, Sandy’s husband, just turned up here. He wanted me to tell the police that he wouldn’t hurt his wife and he…grabbed my wrist. I mean he didn’t hurt me but I was scared and I really feel that you should speak to him. I don’t know…I was scared.’ I know that I sound very unsure but I’m not certain what else to say.
‘If he hurt you, you can file charges for assault,’ says the detective. ‘If he laid hands on you in any way, you can file charges.’
I think about what it would take to file charges, to go down to the police station and spend some time doing that. ‘If I do, will you arrest him?’
‘Well, we would go and see him and get his version of events. And he may be arrested, yes. Did anyone else witness what happened?’
‘My receptionist came in at the end. She had gone to get coffee and she came in and he was next to me and she saw that he was holding my wrist.’
‘Okay, well you can come down and report the incident and we will look into it.’
This is not the answer that I wanted. I want the police to care more, to help me. Maybe they would be able to figure out exactly what’s going on.
‘Do you know that he has a criminal record?’ I ask the detective as I pick up my pen from my desk and begin doodling on my notepad. I feel like I want to jump out of my skin and I’m trying to keep myself grounded.
‘Who told you that?’ Explaining it all would take too long. ‘Sandy – she told me when I was treating her,’ I lie. I glance at my phone, seeing that I only have fifteen minutes.
The detective clears his throat. ‘Interesting,’ he says and I have no idea what he means by that.
‘Look, I don’t actually want to file charges against Mike. I just want to know that Sandy is okay,’ I tell the detective as I stand and begin pacing around my office. ‘I’m really worried about Sandy.’
The detective is quiet for a moment. ‘Actually, I was going to call you.’
‘Oh?’ I stop walking, hold my breath.
