‘A little over five months,’ Mary confirmed.
‘And who is she? How did you find her?’
‘Her name is Dr. Lillian Fox,’ Mary explained. ‘And I found her through an internet advert I saw almost a year ago, before I even moved to San Francisco. I checked her out and she was perfect – well known, with a great reputation and very well respected. In court, her testimony will be worth its weight in gold. Trust me.’
‘And how’s it going with her?’ Denise asked.
‘Smooth as silk,’ Mary’s tone was full of pride. ‘During those five initial months, before I met Quaddra, we’ve talked about all the normal therapy subjects – childhood, family, love life… you know the drill. Then, five months into therapy, there’s a mention of me having possibly met a new love interest. A couple of weeks later, the love interest has become a full-blown romance and boom, every now and then, a few expertly placed bruises start showing up – arm, shoulder, legs – same as always. Never something too exposed or too visible like on my face, neck or hands. She gets to see them every now and then because sometime during the session, I accidently hitch up my sleeve a little too much, or my blouse, or my skirt, or whatever.’
‘Has she asked about them yet?’ Denise questioned.
‘She mentioned them, yes.’
The waitress came back with their drinks. ‘The food will be right along.’
‘Oh, there’s no rush,’ Denise said, giving the waitress a sympathetic smile. Once the waitress was far enough away, Denise’s attention returned to Mary, but this time, it was full of concern. ‘Hold on a second here. Doesn’t California law require a therapistto tell the police if they suspect that a patient of theirs is being a victim of domestic abuse, domestic violence, or both?’
‘That’s exactly right, yeah,’ Mary replied, as she sipped her drink. She didn’t seem concerned.
Denise frowned. ‘And how isn’t that a problem, sis? You said that she’s already noticed the bruises, right? If she reports it – which, by law, she must do – the cops will come knocking… Quaddra will probably be arrested… and that’s that. End of. We’ll walk away with nothing.’
‘Yeah, but she won’t report it.’ There was real confidence in Mary’s tone.
‘How can you know that, Mary?’
‘Because of one tiny detail… but a very important one.’
‘Which is?’
‘Doubt.’
Denise’s head recoiled back half an inch. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that Dr. Fox is a very well-known therapist,’ Mary began. ‘With a solid reputation. A reputation that she won’t want to tarnish. For her to go to the authorities with a “suspicion” about one of her clients, that “suspicion” has to be pretty undeniable, because if she makes a mistake… if it turns out that there was no abuse happening at all… if it turns out that I was just clumsy, like I told her I was… her “solid” reputation will take a huge hit – and that’s the last thing that a therapist of Dr. Fox’s caliber would want.’ Mary lifted a finger at Denise, for emphasis. ‘Plus, I never told her who my partner was. She doesn’t know his name, his profession, or anything, but I made damn sure that she understood that he was a very, very influential figure. The kind of influential that could end careers, if he got rubbed the wrong way. Do you know what I’m saying?’
Denise took a second.
Mary smiled. ‘She knows very well that, like you’ve said – if she reports it, the cops will probably come knocking… Quaddrawill be, at least, taken away for questioning… and that would certainly rub him the wrong. That means that she knows that if she gets this wrong, it’s the end of her career. I never, not once, complained about Quaddra to her. I never said anything bad about him either… meaning that I never “explicitly” voiced any sort of concerns about him. So, sure, she might have suspicions, but she will also have doubts… the kind of doubts that will make her second guess her decision every time. Why? Because her career is on the line.’ Mary shook her head. ‘Without concrete proof, she won’t risk it because the consequences can be too damaging, and concrete proof will only come with the “evidence package”.’
Denise chewed on all that for a moment. ‘You really got good at this, didn’t you?’
Mary took a bow. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘So, you stuck with the “being clumsy” story?’ Denise asked.
‘Of course – and of course I made sure that Dr. Fox noticed that said clumsiness seemed to have magically appeared just after I started dating Quaddra. Small bruises at first, but soon they’ll start getting just a little larger, which will coincide with my mood changing to sadder and sadder, and me becoming more and more withdrawn. I’ll start showing a little fear just weeks before the grand finale.’
‘So how often do you see her?’ Denise asked.
‘For now, once a week,’ Mary replied. ‘I have a session tomorrow afternoon actually, but just like always, I’ll increase the sessions to two a week, once the wedding is out of the way.’
‘How about Quaddra?’ Denise pushed. ‘He must’ve noticed the bruises too because the two of you are practically living together.’
‘Of course he has,’ Mary confirmed. ‘But I laid the groundwork right on our first night together.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘How clumsy I can be.’ The smile on Mary’s lips was a smug one. ‘We had just finished having sex for the first time,’ sherecounted. ‘I was exiting the room and bumped my shoulder on the doorframe… hard. When he asked if I was alright, I told him that I’m usually clumsy, but I get even more clumsy when I get nervous.’
