Page 29 of In Death, Love Survives
“Mr. Walker. I understand you wanted to see me.”
Wolfe leans forward, placing his interwoven hands on the table. I pick up my pen and tap it on the yellow notepad.
I could keep going, but I like it when the patient talks first. I just gave him an opening and got nothing in return.
I want to make sure I understand what he wants out of this before I start recording our conversation. Hopefully, it will be a way to earn his trust.
Wolfe’s hair falls forward and frames his face. His beard has grown, but somehow, it makes him appear more like himself.
I internally laugh at the notion that I have any idea what Wolfe normally looks like and ever will.
“What’s the deal with you and the blond prick?”
Startled, I throw my head back. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t show any emotion with a patient. I’ve heard a lot here, far more than that question.
He chuckles at my reaction and leans back in his chair.
“Dr. Owens is my supervisor.”
Wolfe laughs further as he spreads his legs widely.
“Would have thought you would have better taste in men than that asshole.”
“Dr. Owens is not an asshole,” I lie.
Honestly, what do I know after last week?
“Whatever you want to believe, dollface, but I know men like that. The way he looks at you makes me want to…” He trails off.
Wolfe pauses before turning to stare back toward where Officer Johnson is waiting.
“These sessions are private until I deem necessary. I haven’t started recording this session yet.”
“And what does that mean to you?” he asks, looking back in my direction.
“It means I’m here to help you. If you are uncomfortable seeing me for whatever reason, I can assign you to a member of my staff.”
“Help,” he repeats.
“Yes. It’s my job to help you.”
Wolfe digs into one of his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I’m not surprised someone with his stature in the real world was able to acquire cigarettes inside prison. This brazen attitude to smoke them in front of me isn’t surprising either.
Wolfe Walker is testing me.
I know I’ve piqued his interest on some level. I’m sure he’s wondering if I’m on his side or if he’s just a number.
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“No,” I lie.
Wolfe nods his head as he lights his cigarette. The way the smoke drifts around his face is unsettling. It’s another time I’m near Wolfe and feel uneasy.
“Thank you,” he says.
A polite response back.
I start to tap my pen on the pad of paper once again.
