“Katherine believed she took that pill. Before she could swallow it, I took over and spat it in the toilet. The pill was enough to make the police believe that she was knocked out all night. And yes, I know Detective Walker suspects her, but she will never find any evidence proving it. I’ve hidden my tracks well, Dr. Burton. You can go ahead and stop the recording.”
He leans over and pushes the button. “Aren’t you worried I’ll go to the police with this?” he asks.
“I know that you can’t go to the police because that would break doctor/patient confidentiality unless I tell you I’m going to commit another murder, which I’m not—at least not here in New York.”
His eyes steadily narrow at me. “You are not a patient of mine.”
I reach into my purse, take a dollar bill from my wallet, and toss it on the table in front of the couch. “I am now.” I smile. “You know what I’m capable of, Dr. Burton. And I know you won’t say a word, or I’ll have your license snatched away from you so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“What do you think Katherine will do when she hears this?”
“It’ll be hard for her to accept at first, but in time, she’ll adapt.”
“She’s too fragile. I think it’ll break her,” he says.
“Perhaps you’re right.” I tap my lip with my index finger. “But she needs to know, or else she’ll go on with the rest of her life thinking someone is watching and following her. Make sure you convince her that she wasn’t the one who killed those men. She will call you for an emergency appointment when I wake her up. Give her one. Understand me?”
“Yes, of course.” He nods.
“Good.” I stand from the couch and pick up my purse, hooking it over my shoulder and gripping the strap. “It was nice to speak with you finally, Dr. Burton. Have a pleasant day.” I smile as I leave his office.
41
DR. BURTON
The door slams shut.I let out a sigh of relief and walk over to my computer. My fingers automatically type 'dissociative identity disorder' into the search bar, a term I've heard of but never encountered in my practice as a therapist. The cursor blinks impatiently as I scroll through patient cases and medical articles, trying to understand what just happened in my office.
Dahlia calls herself Katherine’s sister, but she’s not. She emerged from the depths of Katherine’s subconscious, taking over to protect Katherine from the devastating trauma her mother inflicted on her. Dahlia was braver, stronger, and more resilient than Katherine could ever be. It was uncanny how different her voice was from Katherine’s. Every word and movement seemed calculated and precise. She radiated a confidence I had never seen before. It was eerie how different they were, leaving no doubt in my mind that the woman who spoke to mewas notKatherine.
I need to do some more research before Katherine calls to schedule an appointment, so I press the intercom button on my desk phone.
“Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day. But if Katherine Tate calls, put her through.”
42
KAT
My hands trembleas I shake a white pill into my hand and chase it down with some water. I take in a breath as I grip the bathroom counter and lower my head. I need to talk to Dr. Burton. I have to tell him about the storage unit and what I found.
I enter the bedroom, grab my phone from the bed, and dial Dr. Burton’s number.
“Dr. Burton’s office. How may I help you?”
“Hi, this is Katherine Tate. I was hoping to get in to see Dr. Burton today. It’s an emergency.”
“Hold one moment, Mrs. Tate.”
The staff probably thinks I’m crazy, too.
“Hello, Katherine. It’s Dr. Burton.” I found it strange that he answered the call.
“Oh, Dr. Burton. I was hoping to get an appointment with you today. Something happened last night that I need to tell you about.”
“I’m very booked right now and am currently behind on my patients. How about I stop by your house tonight, and we can talk there? It sounds like you need to speak with me today.”
“I do. My house will be fine. What time?”
“Will seven o’clock work?”
