‘I do.’
There was a long pause. The two women eyed each other.
‘He’s not in any trouble,’ Judith said.
The blonde rolled her eyes. ‘I know that. You’re the trouble. What’s it about?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.’
That prompted another eyeroll and a shake of the head.
‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t very important. It’s... look, lives are in danger.’
‘They always are,’ the blonde snapped. ‘That’s the problem.’ Before Judith could respond she said, ‘You’ll find him at St Bart’s. Finishing up the early morning meeting. Try to leave him in the state you found him in, would you?’ And she slammed the door in Judith’s face.
St Bart’s was a red-brick Anglican church on Burnley Street, about four kilometres from the Barrs’ townhouse in Clifton Hill. Judith parked her bike and looked Lawrence Barr up online. Katy had obviously been right about Barr not practising anymore. He wasn’t listed as a psychologist in any mental health practice. But the internet is forever, and Judith was able to find a few photographs of the former psychologist—formal-looking shots where he stood with other besuited men and women, smiling blandly for the camera. Barr was a short man—best guess, she’d put him at around five foot five or six—with a sharply receding hairline. His skin was tanned and lightly freckled.
Judith waited, sitting on her bike. At ten-fifteen a.m., she saw Lawrence Barr emerge from the building, a cardboard cup of coffee in hand, chatting with an older man.
Judith waited for the older man to leave, then approached Barr as he turned to go back into the church.
‘Mr Barr? Do you have a moment?’
He was willing enough to talk to her, and seemed unsurprised when she introduced herself as a detective. He led the way to a wooden bench that was installed against an outer wall of the building and gestured for her to take a seat.
‘I appreciate your time,’ Judith said.
‘So how can I help you, Detective?’
‘I’m trying to track down a woman you may have treated when she was a young girl. Her named is Ruth Hall.’ She watched his face when she said Ruth’s name. It took him a moment, perhaps, to place her, but place her he did. She saw recognition in his eyes. Recognition, and caution.
‘I’m not sure how I can help you with that. I haven’t seen Ruth since she was a child.’
‘Right,’ Judith said. ‘Could you point me to a psychiatrist who might have treated her more recently? Towards the end of her time in the foster system?’
‘I could, but they won’t talk to you without a court order.’
‘I don’t want to ask any questions about her treatment or her diagnosis. I’m just trying to track her down. Or even track her friends down. Anyone who might have been close to her as a teenager who might still be in touch now.’
‘Even so,’ Lawrence said, shaking his head, ‘they won’t talk to you about a patient.’
‘I really don’t mean her any harm.’
He shrugged. ‘The rules are the rules.’
Judith hid her disappointment, and tried to figure out what she could do next. She should go to the station, go through the child protection files, the release of which would now certainly be expedited. Maybe she’d find something useful there. She could go to the homes Ruth had lived in, speak to any foster parents she may have been placed with. The Giffords had been very helpful. There might be others like them who would be willing to talk to her, even if the social workers and psychologists could not. But she felt a deep sense of urgency. As if somewhere a hidden hourglass had been turned over and the sand was spilling out far too quickly.
‘Look, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think they’d be able to help you, even if they were willing to talk to you,’ Lawrence said.
‘Really? And why is that?’
‘Because Ruth would not have stayed in touch with her treating doctors, and because she didn’t have friends.’
Judith digested that for a moment. ‘If you only treated her when she was a child—’
‘I didn’t treat her when she was older, that’s true, but we were a small team, the psychologists and psychiatrists who dealt with kids in the system. We provided multidisciplinary care. We had meetings, and we discussed the kids. Ruth was a very challenging personality.’
Judith waited. He had more to say, she could feel it. But Lawrence was silent.
