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“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice low and menacing. “How dare you barge into my office like this!”
Dr. Balog’s patient stood up, a scared expression on his face. “Um—I can go,” the patient said.
“We aren’t done yet!” Dr. Balog said, but his patient was already scurrying out the door.
Left alone with them, Jake stared down Dr. Balog to show him he wasn’t intimidated.
“Now,” Jake said, “are you going to come with us?”
Dr. Balog’s face twisted in anger. “What is this about? You just scared my patient away.”
Fiona stepped up and said, “Dr. Balog, we need to speak to you about some of your previous patients,” she said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but at least two of them have been found dead. We believe the third was a patient of yours too.”
Dr. Balog’s face went pale as he heard the news. He slowly shook his head, seemingly in denial of the accusations.
He took a deep breath and looked them both in the eye before speaking. “I can assure you that I have never had any patients who have met such a fate.” His voice was firm and steady now, as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words as much as them.
“I’m a therapist and I help people with their problems, not cause them harm.” He glanced at Jake, then Fiona, before continuing. “If you have any other questions for me, then you’ll need to provide evidence that ties me to these deaths or else I can’t answer them.”
Jake kept his eyes trained on Balog. He hadn’t even outright accused the man, and yet he was already acting like he was on trial—and that alone was a red flag to Jake.
“I need you to come with us, Dr. Balog,” Jake insisted. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We just want to talk, and we have on good authority that at least two victims connected to you are dead. I think you know that, don’t you?”
Dr. Balog tried to look strong, but Jake could see him cracking. Shaking. Trying to hide his guilt.
“Come with us, Dr. Balog,” Jake said. “If you have nothing to hide, you’ll come.”
Dr. Balog sighed, then glared at Jake like he wanted to murder him. Jake had no idea how this guy could be a working therapist and psychologist; he didn’t exactly give off a warm aura.
“Very well,” Dr. Balog said. “I’ll go with you.”
***
Sitting across from Dr. Balog in the interrogation room at the logan precinct, Jake looked the man in the eyes as he prepared for the interview. Dr. Balog’s eyes were dark and empty, almost soulless, and Jake felt in his gut that this was the man who had cruelly murdered three people.
Beside him, Fiona was quiet. She’d asked to sit in for the interview, and Jake was fine with it—she needed to learn, but she stayed back, letting him take the lead.
“Why don’t you start by telling us about this anonymous support group you used to run?” Jake asked. “It was specifically advertised toward people with different, but severe phobias, correct?”
“I don’t see how this is relevant,” Dr. Balog said. “I already told you, I haven’t heard of any of my patients dying. You have the wrong man.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jake opened up his file and took out three photos—one of each victim, alive.
Chris Barlow.
Trish Walker.
Mason Monroe.
All people with lives, people who mattered. Who were now dead.
Dr. Balog looked at the photos, frowning. He pointed at the one of Senator Barlow.
“I know this man,” he said. “He’s a senator. I did not hear he died.”
“And the others?” Jake pressed.
Dr. Balog was starting to look sweaty and nervous. He swallowed hard and said, “I… I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
