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“I wonder if we could have a private word?” I say.
She hesitates only a moment, and then she nods. She leads the way towards the nearest edge of the room, beside one of the large pillars at the periphery of the circular ballroom. This offers only a little more privacy. I am disappointed. I had hoped she would lead me to a private room where it would be just me and her.
“What is it?” She speaks a little stiffly, clearly still upset that I’d invaded her home without her permission.
“I wanted to apologize to you.”
“Because Agent Storm asked you to?” she says suspiciously.
I shake my head. “I genuinely wanted to apologize. It was rude of me to invade your privacy like that, not to mention illegal. I appreciate you not pressing any charges. I’m afraid I got carried away.”
“Why?” she says bluntly.
“Why am I sorry?” I wonder what more she wanted from the apology,
“Why did you get carried away? I don’t understand what your involvement in this case is.”
“I used to work for the Agency, but due to an unfortunate event I lost my job. I thought I could win it back.”
She nods her head, this time a little more sympathetically. “Well, that’s either very brave of you or…” She hesitates.
“Or what? Really, I’d like to know.”
“Or a little bit impulsive, obsessive even. The characteristics of someone who may be suffering some instability, either emotional or material, in their lives.”
She says it with clinical coolness but that soft voice of hers takes the sting out of her words. I wonder if that is why she uses it—to keep her patients from getting upset.
“Wow, you leave me no doubt that you’re a psychologist,” I joke.
“Sorry,” she says. “Force of habit.”
“So do you think that I need professional help too? Did you talk about me with Storm?”
“No of course not,” she says, seeming surprised. “May I ask what it was in my office that made you scream?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
“Is that why you’re here? You’re hoping to seek my professional help?”
“Storm thought it would be a good idea,” I say grudgingly.
“Agent Storm seems to care a great deal for you.”
My eyes narrow. I don’t want her talking or even thinking about my relationship, or lack of, with Storm. “You seem very interested in what Agent Storm cares about,” I say icily.
She doesn’t rise to the bait. Her tone is still calm when she says, “I do care what Agent Storm cares about. He is investigating the death of my business partner and dear friend.”
Enough of the chit chat, the little voice hisses. Ask her for her help already.
I sigh. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Mrs Grictor.”
“Ms Grictor,” she corrects me.
I nod in acknowledgment. “Storm said you do pro bono work and I’d promised to ask him whether you might fit me into your schedule. Maybe for an assessment or something?”
“That must have been a difficult thing for you to ask,” she says.
“You don’t know the half of it. I find it hard to trust people in your profession, given that my last psychiatrist tried to abduct me.”
