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He nodded, then sat back on his chair and crossed his arms, cocking his head to one side.
“What is it?” Faith said with the barest hint of irritation. “Whenever you sit like that, it means you disagree with something I said.”
“It’s not about disagreement,” he replied. “I already said, agreement is not the purpose of our sessions.”
“So what is it? I spilled. Your turn.”
“I think you’re lying.”
She didn’t hide her irritation anymore. “What makes you think I’m lying? Why would I lie?”
“Because you don’t like questioning yourself.”
“Well, I’m not questioning myself.”
“Exactly. When you make a choice, you refuse to examine your reasons for making that choice.”
“Well, I examine them before I make the choice,” she explained.
“Do you? You have said many times that you love Michael, but when the two of you had a chance at a future together, you rejected it. Now, however, you have a deep-seated, irrational distrust of his current girlfriend to the point where you claim to fear for his safety. Yet you’ve made no attempt to protect him. If you believed Ellie was as dangerous as you say, I have a hard time believing that you wouldn’t physically remove her from his life. They sleep in the same bed, share intimate moments with each other, they are physically close—”
“I get it,” she snapped. “If I thought Ellie was going to hurt him, why am I letting her live with him, sleep with him, screw him and I’m doing nothing about it.”
“Yes.”
"Because…" she pressed her lips together and then admitted, "I guess I don't really think she's that dangerous. I just… don't like her."
“Why?”
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked suddenly. “This is…” she waved her hands as though warding something off, “an awful lot about Michael.”
Dr. West held her gaze for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Sure. Wake up, Faith.”
She frowned. “What?”
“You fell asleep. Faith, can you hear me? It’s Michael.”
“Michael?”
“Faith.”
She started and swiped with her hand. Michael jumped backward, narrowly avoiding a fingernail to the eye. He lifted his hands cautiously in case Faith decided on a more dangerous attack. “You awake?”
Faith straightened and looked around. She was sitting in a chair in a conference room at the Sioux City Police Department headquarters. Turk was curled up on the floor next to her. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. How long was I out?”
“Seven hours, give or take.”
“Seven hours?" She looked outside, and the bright sunlight filtering through the windows told her that she had slept through the night. "Why didn't anyone wake me?"
“Maybe they wanted to keep their eyesight,” he deadpanned. “Honestly, you looked so comfortable, I just told them to leave you alone. You were exhausted and you needed your rest.”
“Didyousleep?” she asked, a little peevishly.
“Yeah, I crashed in one of the jail cells.”
“You slept in a jail cell.”
“Yeah. Why not? It has a bed, a toilet, a pillow and a blanket. What’s wrong with that? It’s more comfortable than sitting slumped over in a chair.”
