26

“I have this cat … ”

The shrink nodded in approval. “I’m encouraged by that news. Research shows comfort pets are instrumental to recovery for PTSD sufferers.”

Comfort pet? Davie stared at the shrink’s thin smile and thought about Hootch. She didn’t know much about cats, but this one was standoffish and wary. That might be feline nature or maybe he was still adjusting to the loss of someone he trusted.

“He won’t play with any of his toys,” she said.

“Did you buy the toys so you could play with him or so he could entertain himself while you were gone?”

She thought about that before answering. “Somebody else bought them. Mostly, he prefers to bat a paperclip across the floor.”

“Give him time. I imagine he’ll come around.” The shrink rested his elbows on the desk and studied her face. “You look more rested. Has your sleep improved?”

Davie wanted to laugh. She had counted for nearly an hour before falling into a black pit of sleep. She’d barely managed to drag herself to this seven a.m. appointment. “I never sleep all that much when I’m working a case.” She considered leaving it at that but at the last minute added, “The counting helps quiet my mind … sometimes, at least, enough to fall asleep.”

He nodded and wrote something on his tablet. “I’m glad you tried the meditation exercises. They seem to have helped, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why do you always make me restate the obvious?” she said. “I just told you they helped.”

“I want to make sure I’m not misinterpreting your experience.” He waited for a moment before adding, “What else is happening in your life?”

Her gaze swept the room and noted a cartoony-looking greeting card displayed next to a pile of books. It was past Valentine’s Day and not yet Easter. April Fools? If so, she wondered who would send a card like that to his office. Maybe it was a thank-you from one of his patients.

Davie heard the shrink clear his throat and remembered he’d asked her a question. “I almost drowned.” She told him about the attempt on Lunds’s life, falling in the river, and how she’d felt those moments in the water would be her last.

“But you survived.”

Davie thought about that for a moment. “The man who saved my life was a soldier. He told me things. Horrible things he saw and did to protect his friends and survive the war. At night when I’m alone in bed I sometimes close my eyes and think about how I killed two men to protect people I love, and I wonder why I’m still alive.”

“People are sometimes called upon to make life-or-death decisions. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t mourn the loss of life, even if it was a necessary part of the oath you took—to protect and to serve. Isn’t that it? Your job now is to forgive yourself.”

Davie squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s hard.”

“Sometimes it is.” He looked at the wall clock. “Our time is up.”

Davie collected her purse from the floor and prepared to leave. “See you next week?”

The shrink slipped his notes into a file folder and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Actually, I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. If you need to talk about anything, here’s a number you can call. We’ll set up another appointment when I get back.”

She studied his expression for hints to his thoughts. “Why do I get the feeling you’re brushing me off?”

He smiled. “Feeling? I’ll take that as progress.”