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“I don’t know. That’s a lot to ask of him, Melanie.”
“I agree. Although it may benefit him to look Larry in the eye at some point.”
“I’m not sure it will tomorrow.”
She nodded. “It’s still too soon. Do you want me to go with you?”
Now that was an idea. “I honestly hadn’t given that a thought, Melanie, but it makes perfect sense. If there are two of us, we’ll have to use the visitation room, and there will be no barrier between us. Plus, your input as a psychotherapist will be invaluable. I never would’ve asked you to do this, but would you like to go?”
“I will go. Do I want to go? Not really. I mean, to come face-to-face with him isn’t high on my list. But I’ve been thinking for a while now that maybe I should go. Not just to support you, but to try to help Talon in any way I can. I still consider myself his therapist.”
“We all do.” I took her hand and rubbed my thumb into her palm.
She sipped her martini with her other hand. “When do you want to go tomorrow? I’m sure you have things to do around the ranch.”
I nodded. “I do. Let’s say we leave here around two in the afternoon. That will get us to the city by three. We can visit with Larry and then maybe catch dinner before we drive home.”
She smiled. “That sounds good to me.”
* * *
Melanie was visibly tense as we sat at the table in the visitor’s room at the prison, waiting for the guard to escort Larry to us.
“I don’t mean to be so jittery,” she said.
“I understand completely. I was jittery the first time I met him as well. I’m still jittery to a certain extent. This man—my uncle, for God’s sake—did terrible things to my brother. That thought never leaves me as I talk to him. Yet I have to keep my cool, keep my head, because I’m trying to trip him up. I’m trying to get him to give me information.”
“Do you think he’ll be a little more forthcoming today?”
“I’m banking on it. I don’t know for sure, but now that we know who the two other culprits are, there’s no reason for him to keep anything from me. They already know that we know.”
“True,” she said. “But don’t underestimate him. He may have his own reasons for keeping silent that have nothing to do with his fear of Simpson and Mathias.”
I widened my eyes. That thought hadn’t occurred to me. “What other reason could he have?”
“We may never know. The man is a psychopath. He doesn’t understand empathy or remorse. What is inherently wrong to a sane individual doesn’t seem wrong to a psychopath, and even though he knows he’s hurting someone, he feels no remorse or sorrow for his offenses.”
“So are you saying you think he might’ve been pulling my chain all along?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility.”
I looked up. A guard was escorting Larry to our table.
“Steel,” Larry said, plunking into a chair. He had two black eyes that were sunken, and lacerations and bruising covered his arms. “What the hell do you want now?” He looked to Melanie. “And who the hell is this?”
“This is Dr. Melanie Carmichael. She’s a psychotherapist.”
“Oh, you want her to shrink my head? Believe me, I’ve been through more psych evaluations since I’ve been in here than I know what to do with.”
“She’s not here for that. She’s here because she’s my friend. She’s here to support me.”
“Hello, Mr. Wade,” she said.
“Aren’t you courteous? Please call me Larry.”
She didn’t bat an eye. “All right, if you prefer, Larry. You may call me Dr. Carmichael.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. Melanie never ceased to amaze me. Professional even in the most dire circumstances.
