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“Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Pritchard,” I said to the young woman in front of me.
“Call me Megan,” she said, smiling. Soft brown curls surrounded a cheery face, and I was glad she seemed willing to help. “This will be about the girls.”
“Yes, I know you’re limited on what you can share, but it’s come to my understanding that you might have been helping a few of them.”
“I wish I could help, but the thing is, I never actually met any of them one-on-one,” she explained. “I’m new this term, and with the unthinkable start, I haven’t had the time to set up individual appointments yet. I’ve been busy talking to each house as a group. The headmaster thought it would be better that way. To deal with the trauma together as a family and ensure every student receives counseling. They were all on my list, though. We were supposed to start transitioning to individual this month.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed you knew them,” I said.
Her face pinkened, and I had the distinct feeling if I took her out for drinks, she would spill everything.
“No, it was my predecessor who worked with them. I’ve looked at their files, though,” she shared. “They were all pretty unhappy in the beginning but were doing much better with therapy. I wish I could be more helpful.”
“No, no, I completely understand privacy laws.”
“Do you mind me asking the name of the previous counselor?”
“Not at all.” She smiled. “It’s Maureen Davies.”
I tried not to let my mouth fall open. “As in DCS Davies wife?”
“Ex-wife,” she corrected with a wink. “My friend, a teacher who worked with her, says she’s gone back to London and has her own practice.”
“Really,” I said.
“Yes, that means the hunky cop is single.” She raised her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”
“Sure, I should get going,” I said, standing up. “Thank you, Megan.”
“I love your style, by the way. Very emo-goth.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have a card in case I think of anything else?” she asked, looking hopeful.
I pulled a card from my purse and handed it to her. “Thank you again, Megan.”
“It’s my pleasure. Anything I can do to help those poor girls.”
I left her office and exited through the front doors, heading toward the car. Rhys stood outside face to face with DC Havard. “Stay away from me,” Havard said, backing up. “You’re a fucking freak.”
“Fuck off,” Rhys spat.
DC Havard looked at me. “You keep your fucking boyfriend away from me. There is something seriously wrong with him.”
“Rhys?” I questioned.
“It’s all right. Get in the car.”
Havard backed up until he ran into the bumper of his police-issued vehicle. Then, turning, he opened the door and hurried inside.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Nothing. DC Havard had a change of heart about arresting me,” he said, opening the door. We both got in at the same time.
“Why was he going to arrest you?”
“He had a few unkind things to say about you and didn’t like my reaction.”
