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He was a fidgety, nervous man, she realized. "Counseling? About what."
He hesitated once more.
Was he really worried about breaching privilege? He had fled the cops. He had an assault record from his juvenile days.
But what if he was also a man of principle?
What if he was the wrong man?
She pressed, "Sir, what did you counsel them about?"
"Mostly PTSD," he said quickly. "I have... some experience in the area. It's while we go through our chiropractic sessions. All three of my clients had run-ins with traumatic health concerns. I was trying to help them through it."
"PTSD?"
"Yes. It affects nearlyone in five people who experience a traumatic event. It's a common condition, but not many people know how to deal with it. That's where I come in. I provide them with a safe space to talk about their experiences and help them find ways to cope with their symptoms."
Rachel nodded, her mind racing. It was possible that Caldwell was telling the truth. But then again, it was also possible that he was a master manipulator, skilled at covering his tracks.
"So... I know that one of your clients had fertility issues. Another had a chronic illness that forced her husband to keep bags packed in order to rush to the hospital. And Mrs. Clark... what about her?"
"An injury," he said. "She was pushed in front of a train and nearly died. Suffered a concussion. It was in the news a few years ago."
Rachel stared at Caldwell, frowning. "So all three of the women suffered PTSD episodes?"
"Yes, that's what I'm trying to tell you."
Rachel leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. It seemed too coincidental that all three women had PTSD and were also clients of Caldwell's. But then again, it wasn't impossible for them to seek counseling for their condition. She decided to dig deeper.
"Sir, did any of your clients ever mention anything strange or unusual happening to them before their deaths?"
Caldwell shook his head. "No, not that I know of. They just came in for their regular sessions."
Rachel pressed on, "And you never noticed anything odd or out of place during your sessions with them?"
Caldwell hesitated before answering, "I... I did notice something strange during my last session with Mrs. Clark."
"What did you notice?" Rachel asked, her heart racing.
"She was acting very paranoid and scared. She kept looking over her shoulder and wouldn't relax. I tried to talk to her about it, but she wouldn't say anything. I thought it might have been related to her injury, but now..." He trailed off.
She stared at Caldwell. Was he telling the truth? Or playing her.
It was all so troubling.
He didn't...
She paused, holding the thought back like a dam keeping back floodwaters.
But then she allowed the thought to return.
He didn'tseemlike the murdering sort.
He was still slurring his words, still quite drunk. He looked ashamed of his actions more than anything. He'd panicked when he'd heard about Clark's death, and had fled.
But that was just as likely because of the cops as the Clarks.
Jeb had shot up a police station for crying out loud.
