On average, therapists’ sessions were usually between forty-five minutes and an hour long, and they were always by appointment, no walk-ins. There was never more than one client waiting at a time. It wasn’t like going to the dentist. For that reason, therapists’ waiting rooms tended to be compact, but not too cramped, in case the client struggled with claustrophobia. The decoration was always placid – not too many colors or extravagant furniture, with the lighting warm and calm. The room that Hunter foundhimself in was no different. It had been minimally furnished, with just one armchair and a low coffee table. The armchair – an oxblood, Chesterfield club chair – faced a wall that displayed two framed prints – both very tranquil images. On the coffee table, there were a few magazines spread out like a deck of cards. Across the room, by the door that led into Keri Liftridge’s office, there was a twin-tap water dispenser.
Hunter chose not to take a seat. Instead, he studied the two framed images – the first one showed a deserted beach, with snow-white sand and baby-blue waters. The second was a photograph of a sunset somewhere, where the sky had turned orange-red, silhouetting the mountains on the horizon. Hunter had to admit that the prints had an almost hypnotic effect.
He was just about to pick up one of the magazines when he heard the sound of a door closing, coming from inside Keri Liftridge’s office. That probably meant her session had ended and that her client her left through the office exit door. That was another common feature in therapists’ offices – a client never exited through the waiting room. Client crossing client was a big no-no in the therapy world. There was always a private exit door. A few seconds later, Hunter heard a phone ring inside Keri’s office. The conversation didn’t last long. Seconds after that, Keri Liftridge opened the door to her office and stepped into the waiting room.
‘Detective Hunter?’ she said, offering a delicate and well-manicured hand. ‘I’m Keri Liftridge. You wish to speak with me?’
Hunter shook her hand, as he introduced himself.
‘LAPD Homicide?’ Keri’s eyes narrowed at Hunter. Her voice became tense. ‘What is this concerning? Has something happened to one of my clients?’
Keri Liftridge was almost a whole foot shorter than Hunter, with reddish-blonde hair that was neatly tied back into a slick bun. Her makeup was minimal, but done in a way that perfectlyaccentuated her dark eyes and her high cheekbones. She was dressed very professionally, in a light-blue suit, white blouse and short black heels. The sleeves of her suit jacket were rolled up to expose her forearms, but what most impressed Hunter about Keri was that everything about her exuded confidence – her posture, her movements, the way she spoke, her tone of voice… everything.
‘Do you mind if we talk in your office?’ Hunter asked.
Keri hesitated for a split second, her eyes showing concern. ‘Yes, of course.’ She turned to indicate the door. ‘Please, come in.’
Hunter followed Keri into a room that felt just as tranquil as the waiting room that they were in, but at least double its size. It was nicely decorated, without coming across as presumptuous, comfortably lit and very cozy. Apart from Keri’s antique pedestal desk, there were two armchairs, identical to the one in the waiting room, a Chesterfield three-seater couch and a typical therapist’s chaise longue.
‘Please take a seat, Detective,’ Keri said, broadly gesturing at the room. ‘Anywhere you like.’
‘I’m OK standing, if you don’t mind.’
Hunter’s reply seemed to worry Keri even more. He picked up on it and quickly clarified.
‘This shouldn’t take long.’
Keri studied Hunter for a couple of seconds longer than he expected before finally nodding. ‘Whatever you prefer,’ she said, leaning back against the edge of her desk. Her arms stayed relaxed and by her sides.
Hunter lost no time in explaining the reason for his visit, without revealing too many details.
‘So basically,’ Keri said, once Hunter was done. ‘You need me to confirm, or deny, if any of these people that you’re talking about have ever attended any of my domestic violence support-group sessions?’
‘That’s all I need,’ Hunter confirmed.
Keri nodded slowly. ‘And since you’re a homicide detective, it’s safe to assume that they’re either suspects in an investigation, or they’re the victims.’
‘That’s also correct.’
Keri crossed her arms in front of her. ‘OK. So who are they?’
Hunter handed her a photo of Terry Wilford. ‘His name is Terry. Terry Wilford.’ He was careful to use the verb in its present tense. ‘Please bear in mind that if he did attend any of your group sessions, it could’ve been a while back, as opposed to recently.’
Keri took the photo from Hunter’s hand and studied it for a few seconds before nodding confidently. ‘Yeah, I remember him. He did use to come to my sessions on Tuesday evenings, and you’re right – it was a while back.’
Hunter felt his stomach drop, as his brain caught up with what Keri’s confirmation truly meant for their investigation. ‘How long is a while back, can you remember?’ He kept his voice as steady as he could.
Keri took another moment. ‘It’s hard to be exact, but I’d say at least six months, probably longer, but…’ Her stare got lost somewhere in the space between her and Hunter.
‘But?’ Hunter pushed.
‘But I’m sure that Terry isn’t the name he used at the sessions.’ She immediately lifted a hand at Hunter. ‘Which is no surprise. It’s a tough group, Detective. The people who attend it are climbing a huge mountain – they’re accepting that what they’ve been doing is wrong… they’re accepting that they need to do better… and they’re accepting that they need help. That means that in one way or another, they’re ashamed of their actions… of what they’ve done. To face a group of complete strangers and admit to that takes courage, of course it does, but they’re still ashamed. It’s not surprising that many of them keep their names private.’
‘Of course,’ Hunter agreed. ‘Just out of curiosity, can you remember which name he used?’
Keri’s attention went back to the photo. She chewed her bottom lip for several long seconds before shaking her head. ‘I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think it was something easy to remember. John, or Paul, or something like that.’
Hunter nodded before handing her the second photo. ‘This is the second individual that I’m interested in.’ This time, Hunter didn’t use Shaun Daniels’s name. ‘Can you remember him from any of your sessions?’
