Marissa spent most of the week with Allison. The first two days at the hotel, then back at her house on Allie’s days off. It reminded Marissa of their high school days. It made her feel somewhat normal. And with Allison keeping her in check and relaxed, Marissa’s flare-up had eased, giving her a much-needed rest from the pain. So by the following Friday, she was feeling closer to her usual self.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened last week that had set you off?” Dr. Seaver tilted her head to the side and feigned a look of interest.
“It was a lot of things,” Marissa answered, although she was sure it wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer.
“Was it?”
She stared at the blonde woman and let out a long sigh as Dr. Seaver continued.
“Why don’t you talk to me about Jared?”
“He came for Bree’s birthday,” she replied dryly. Her throat felt sore. “He has a new girlfriend. She looks like she’s maybe twenty.”
Dr. Seaver stared at her expectantly as though she already knew what was coming. When she didn’t say anything, Marissa reluctantly continued.
“He introduced me as ‘Mel’s sister.’ It felt like a slap in the face.”
“I can imagine.” She kept her face neutral, but Marissa felt like none of this was coming as a surprise. “You were together through high school, right? And married pretty early, didn’t you?” Marissa just nodded. “And then you divorced. Remind me why?”
“Because I felt like we were too young, and we weren’t ready for that kind of commitment.”
“Did you both do any dating after that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you still talk?”
“We did. We were still good friends. There were no hard feelings.” Their first divorce had been smooth. They both agreed it had been too soon for such a commitment.
“And then, four years later, you were married again, right?”
She had no idea why any of this was necessary. Her relationship with Jared had been public knowledge for everyone they knew. “Yes.”
“And that marriage lasted about three years?” Marissa nodded. “Tell me about how it ended that time.”
“As Jared became more popular on his radio show and started doing live shows, he started drinking a lot. By the end, he was drunk 99 percent of the time. I moved out, hoping he would give it up. But it wasn’t until after I filed for divorce that he sought out help and went to rehab.”
“And was he angry with you then?”
“For the first few months, yes. But once Jared was sober, he understood.”
“And when he was angry with you, how did he treat you when you saw him?”
“He was an ass, but he still acknowledged me. He still talked to me. He answered my calls and texts. He eventually allowed me to help him find a rehab.”
“And you both dated during this time apart?”
“We did.” She had even liked Jared’s girlfriend. The girlfriend’s brother had been in rehab with him.
“And you both still decided you wanted to give your relationship another go?”
Just hearing it all out loud was exhausting. Their history was long and exhausting, and this was twenty years of history summed up in a matter of minutes.
“We did.” They had agreed not to marry again but moved back in together, planning on giving it a real go.
“And how was your relationship this time?”
“It was nearly perfect,” Marissa said sadly. “We were even talking about having a baby. Things had never been so easy before.”
“And then everything happened.”
“And then everything happened,” Marissa repeated sadly.
“Remind me what it was like right after.” She leaned forward with mild interest, clicking her pen every few minutes when she wasn’t writing.
“Well, Jared stayed with me in the hospital. And then I went home with him, but it was a lot. I couldn’t sleep; I would wake up screaming. I even clawed at him during a nightmare.” She thought back, remembering his patience. “So I came home, stayed with my mom for a month or so before she moved out and gave me the house. Jared would drive up on Fridays and spend the weekends with me before returning home to work. We did that for about a year.”
She sighed. It had been hard, but they had made it work.
“And then what happened?” Marissa hated how she was making her say everything, even though she was already aware.
“I started receiving pictures. Mostly of me but some of Jared and me. And then some of just Jared. It was the MO of the Couple’s Killer. The next step, if it is the same person following the same pattern, would have been to take and kill him.”
“So what did you do?”
“I told him I wasn’t going back to Seattle. It wasn’t up for discussion; I had already made all the arrangements I needed to. I told him that we were over. I told him that we were never going to work. We had already tried and failed. We just kept coming back together because we were familiar. I told him I didn’t want to try anymore.”
“So you let him go.”
“Yes.”
“And you did it in a way that you knew he would be angry. Why is that?”
“Because that was the only way he was going to accept that we’re done.”
“And now, six months later, you’re upset he’s still angry.”
“No. I knew Jared would be angry. I knew it wasn’t going to go back to normal. I just…” What did she expect? She wasn’t sure.
“It doesn’t seem fair to either of you. You expect Jared to be able to just be friends after everything the both of you have endured together. And then when you see him, and he’s moved on, you take it personally and completely shut down. You can’t live your life that way. If you’re going to let him go, you need to let him go.”
Breathing heavily through her nose, Marissa felt that shooting pain in her chest. It felt heavy.
“Did it make a difference?” Dr. Seaver continued, not noting Marissa’s discomfort.
Marissa shifted uncomfortably before nodding. “He’s still here.”
This was all the proof she had needed. It had been the only thing she could think to do. Her Hail-fucking-Mary.
Dr. Seaver continued without noting her comment. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve fallen into some self-destructive behavior.”
Dr. Seaver raised an eyebrow, and Marissa found herself sinking back into the couch. Her face grew hot.
“You’ve been running yourself ragged, you’re not eating, and there was a concern of self-harm.”
“Wow. Is that all?” Marissa folded her arms across her chest, anger rising. The anger soothed the pain, at least.
“Am I wrong? Honestly?” Dr. Seaver gave her a wary look.
Allison. It had to be Allison. “You are wrong. You are assuming this is all about him.”
“I’m not assuming anything. Why don’t you tell me what this is about?”
“I feel like that kind of speaks for itself.”
“If you talk to me in riddles, I can easily make a phone call or two and keep you from returning to work. I know the time for your review is coming up.”
Marissa felt like a scolded child, and it was not appreciated. “It feels like I can’t close my eyes and not end up back there. Every time. Every time I close my eyes,” she finally said. “I don’t feel sane anymore. I always feel like I’m just on the edge of a panic attack, always amped up. Even if nothing is happening.”
What she didn’t add was how often she wanted to scream into the air and ask them what they were waiting for. Her heart rate must have been on the rise because Ellie got off the floor, climbed onto the couch, and put her head in Marissa’s lap. If she was being honest, she would have admitted that while she was scared, a part of her didn’t care. She didn’t care about her own safety. She wasn’t looking to get herself killed, but she wasn’t particularly interested in saving herself either.
“I have no control. The precinct that I worked at for years doesn’t believe me. They take my calls to appease me, but they don’t believe me. There hasn’t been any progress.” Marissa petted the top of Ellie’s head, looking at the floor as she spoke. “I have no control.”
Dr. Seaver seemed to accept her answer and let out a sigh as though she’d been holding her breath. “Are you having any suicidal ideations?”
“No.” That was the truth. She had no interest in ending her own life, and maybe that was the narcissist in her. But she also wasn’t interested in protecting it anymore.
“Okay. So what I want to do is up your prescription for antidepressants and give you a different sleeping aid to try.” Dr. Seaver prattled on with what she should do when she felt out of control, whom she should call, and so on. Marissa zoned out. Her face was still hot and flush with anger. She barely heard anything else Laura Seaver said. As soon as the time was up, she all but bolted out of the little building.
She made the fifteen-minute walk to the Mansera Hotel in half the time, shoving the doors open and storming past Lee, who was trying to tell her the dining room was closed.
“How could you?” Marissa leaned against the bar, staring at Allison, who stared back while she wiped the glasses.
“How could I what?”
“You know exactly what. You called Laura Seaver.” It had to be her. She was the only person she had seen in a week. And Allie didn’t deny it.
“I’m worried about you, Rissa.” She sighed and glanced around the empty dining hall, nodding at Lee to be anywhere else. “I know you’re having a hard time, and I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
“You had no right,” Marissa said half-heartedly. She knew deep down Allie was probably right, but it still felt like some kind of betrayal. “Am I not allowed to struggle?”
“You’re allowed to struggle, Marissa.” Allison paused, trying to temper herself. “I will not apologize for trying to help you. I love you, Marissa. Let me be here for you.” Allison put the glass down she had been working on and put her elbows on the bar, looking Marissa directly in the eyes. “You think I didn’t see those cuts on your thighs? Do you think I haven’t noticed how heavy-handed you are with drinks and pills? And how empty your fridge is?”
“I’m doing my best, Allison. I’m sorry it’s not good enough.”
“No, you don’t get to do the pity party thing. You’re not trying at all, Marissa. You’re just giving up. That is the whole problem.”
“Whatever. I’m going home.” Marissa turned to leave, but Allison stepped out from behind the bar and stood beside her.
“You can be as mad as you want. But you better fucking text me later telling me you’re okay. Alright?”
“Fine.” Marissa let her glare linger before she whistled for Ellie, who had curled up on her dog bed behind the bar. She stretched and trotted to Marissa’s side as they headed out.
Marissa walked much slower back, taking her time. They walked along the pier, Marissa leaning against the railing once she made it back downtown. The worst part of it was Marissa knew Allison was right. It didn’t make her any less angry, especially when she thought about how she called Laura Seaver. It made her shudder, bringing up the memories from when the two of them had been a couple. She had probably been Marissa’s least favorite of Allison’s ex-relations. And that was saying a lot.
“Hey, haven’t we met somewhere before?”
A familiar voice startled her, causing her to jump where she stood. Turning, she found striking blue eyes. Ellie stood and put herself between Marissa and Jack, surprising Marissa. “Easy girl. Lay down.” The shepherd grumbled but did as she was told. “Jack, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I hope there aren’t any hard feelings about the other night; I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Not at all.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she remembered nearly taking his arm off. “And I hope I didn’t hurt you, did I? It’s all a little blurry.”
“Not at all.” He grinned. “And for what it’s worth, it’s all a little blurry for me, too.” He glanced down at Ellie, who was still staring at him but lying down as she’d been told. “So why does such a beautiful woman such as yourself look so sad?”
Marissa leaned back against the railing, looking out at the water. “Oh, you know. Just having a day.” She smiled over at him. “And what brings you out here? And to Port Townsend?”
“Well, I thought I saw a woman standing by herself out here looking sad, and I just can’t let that happen.” He looked out into the water. “I work up in Alaska on fishing boats, anywhere between six and nine months out of the year. I came through Port Townsend a couple years ago and thought it would be a nice place to spend the next few months off. Won’t be leaving till mid-January.”
“Oh wow.” Now that he mentioned it, he did have the appearance of one who was built to work on a ship. “That sounds exciting.”
“Not really. But it gives me flexibility in life that I like. I can do what I want when I want.”
“That must be amazing.” She meant it. An untethered life looked more and more appealing sometimes.
“It’s not too bad.” He smiled at her before looking back at the water. “But you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing out here looking so sad?”
Marissa sighed. “Like I said, it’s just been a day. It’s been a couple of years.” Wasn’t that the truth? “Because specifically today, my best friend thinks she needs to be my mother,” Marissa said with bitterness.
“Not to step over the line since we just met and all, but I’m sure it’s only because she cares.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”
She looked at him and, for a moment, seriously considered it.
“Maybe another time? I think I just need to go home right now.”
He looked disappointed, but he smiled back at her. “Of course. As I said, I’m in town until January. And I’m just staying up the road at the Tides Inn and Suites.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“Of course. I look forward to lunch.”
He flashed her another smile before pushing off the railing and heading back across the street. Marissa watched him leave, letting out a heavy sigh. Once he disappeared up the road, she turned, leaned back on the railing, and looked into the water. Maybe she should have said yes.
Pulling her phone out from her back pocket, she stared at the background. They looked so happy in that photo. She kept meaning to change it, so she wouldn’t feel the heartbreak every single time she unlocked it. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She hit the phone symbol, scrolled through her contacts, pressed Call, and listened as the phone started to ring.
Unsurprisingly, it went straight to voicemail. Grumbling, Marissa hung up, scrolled through her contacts again, and dialed a different number. It rang a few times before she heard a woman on the other end of the line.
“Seattle Police Department.”
“Hey, Nell. It’s Marissa Ambrose.” She heard the hesitation on the other line.
“Hey, Marissa. What can I do for you?”
“Is Lieutenant Cooper in?”
“Let me see…” She paused.
“We both know he’s there, Nell. Please just put him on.” She was sick of the roundabout games they seemed to play every week.
“Alright,” Nell said, sounding less exacerbated this week and more sympathetic. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll put you through.”
Marissa waited for a beat, staring out at the waves coming in as she waited. Just as she was considering taking the phone from her ear to see if Nell had hung up, the phone rang again, and a gruff voice answered on the other end.
“This is Lieutenant Cooper; how can I help you?”
“Lieutenant. It’s Marissa.” She heard him sigh. “I’ve been calling to check in but haven’t been able to get through the last couple of weeks.”
“Ah, yes. Marissa.” If he was attempting to cover up his annoyance, he was doing a terrible job. “How are you doing?”
“The same.” She let her shoulders fall forward and closed her eyes. “Has anything in the case changed at all?”
“No,” he said flatly. “There have been no changes. I told you I would call when there is something to tell you.” He paused. “Are you still receiving pictures?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“And you still believe it’s connected to the case?”
“You know I do.”
“Do you have any proof?”
Marissa wanted to yell into her phone. Remind him he was supposed to be a detective and that maybe he should do his job. Instead, she just shook her head even though he couldn’t see it.
“No, sir. Nothing more than what I’ve already given you.”
“And you’re still seeing your therapist?”
“Yes, sir.” She sighed, her temper starting to win. “You are welcome to call her and get the details. I’m of sound mind, and I know what happened. I’m not fucking crazy.”
“Marissa.” He sounded tired on the other end of the line; they’d had this conversation far too many times to count over the last two years. “No one is saying you’re crazy. We just can’t do anything without any proof. It doesn’t fit the profile. Our unsub never spent more than a few weeks sending pictures.” He paused again. “Look, I’ll call over to the PD there and see if they have seen anything or have anything to offer. But that is the best I can do right now.”
“Cool.” It was the best she could force out.
“How are you feeling?” He sounded generally concerned, but it didn’t give any sense of comfort.
“Like I’m going crazy,” she muttered. “I’ll call you back next week.”
She hung up before he could respond, sucking in air as though she were out of breath. Replacing the phone in her back pocket, Marissa looked out to the water.
“Let’s go home, Ellie.” She patted her side and started walking, the shepherd trotting alongside her.
Marissa found herself wishing she had taken the damn car this morning instead of walking. Her body ached by the time she made it back to the neighborhood, having to stop several times before she made it home. She could feel her legs quivering beneath her. She imagined it was what it must feel like to have your bones beaten with a lead pipe. Repeatedly. It was baffling how one day she could run five miles, but the next day an easy walk would be the end of her.
She was entertaining the mental image of lead pipe meeting bone as she approached the porch when she stopped, her blood running cold—there, in front of her door, was a large white envelope, plain with no writing on it. But Marissa knew what it was. Sighing heavily, Marissa took one of the poop bags from her pocket and used it to pick up the envelope and bring it inside. She knew there wouldn’t be any fingerprints on it but kept them from contamination, nonetheless.
Unlocking her door and shoving it open, she let Ellie in before closing it behind them and heading straight to the kitchen. Carefully, she opened the envelope and emptied the contents onto the counter. Using the dog bag, she spread them out to look over the photographs; there were only three this time. It probably had something to do with the fact that Marissa hadn’t really left the house much in the last week. The first picture was Marissa entering Dr. Seaver’s office, the next of her walking along the beach up by Fort Warden, and finally, a photo of Marissa sitting at the bar at the Mansera Hotel.
Shaking off the chill that ran through her, she got up and ran to her study, where she grabbed her fingerprinting kit to run the envelope and photographs for prints. This had become such a routine. And like always, no fingerprints had been left. When she first began receiving photos, she took them to the police station, but that would take hours. No one felt like it was much of a priority. Sure, this fell under the definition of voyeurism, but it wasn’t considered a real threat. So she just started checking from home. She was trained and knew how to lift prints and efficiently run them through the same database on her laptop as she could at the station. But then, there were never any prints to find.
When she was certain there was nothing on the photographs, she threw the envelope away and put the photos in the lockbox with the rest. Out of sight, out of mind was the hope. She could hear Tom’s voice in her head telling her this was no way to handle a case. She wandered to her pantry, then to her fridge, but just continued to walk through her downstairs until she found herself in the bathroom. Digging through the medicine cabinet, she grabbed the pain pills. She popped two before making her way upstairs, Ellie following behind her. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she yanked her pants off before climbing into bed. Getting herself under the covers, she grabbed her phone and pulled up her texts.
She texted Allison, only to receive a response moments later.
[Marissa: I’m fucking fine. I’m going to take a nap. I’m still mad at you.]
[Allison: I love you too. I’ll be there after work.]
She again scrolled through her contacts, stopping at Lydia. Lydia Disher, her partner’s wife. No, Marissa still had to correct herself. Her former partner’s widow. She and Lydia talked about as often as they used to; they were friends but not the kind you spoke to regularly. The difference was now, when she spoke to Lydia, she always felt the weight of guilt over Tom’s death. Even Lydia didn’t blame Marissa, but that didn’t make her feel absolved. She still couldn’t call. Instead, she sent a quick text.
[Marissa: Hey Lydia. Just wanted to say hi. Hope you guys are doing well. I hope you’re not working too hard.]
Lydia was definitely working too hard. Now a single mom and an ER nurse. After hitting send, she put the phone on her nightstand and curled up, calling Ellie close. She tried to relax for sleep, but her body was so tense that rest didn’t come. She tossed and turned before she finally sat up, grabbed all the pillows on her bed and arranged them behind her back, and reached for her heating pad from her nightstand. There was a familiar pain in the center of her back, one she knew was going to keep her up most of the night.