if you are on this raft, please raise your hands. Your expertise is needed immediately in a matter of utmost importance.”
“Crap,” Laura muttered as the annoyed gazes of the other women turned toward her. “Two years of planning to get back to nature, and I still can’t take a decent vacation.” No one else heard her, though, and it was just as well. Resigned, she tightened her legs around the float tube of the raft to brace herself, then raised her hands. It was just too damned sad that she’d told the divisional secretary where she was going on vacation.
“A re they still teasing you at work, Dan? The men from the passport identification department?”
Dan Smithson smiled softly. The question was a hard one and while he didn’t really want to answer it, he liked the smooth sound of Dr. Roth’s voice and wanted to hear it more. Every time he went in for a session, Dr. Roth made him feel calmer, relieved—like letting out his breath when he’d been holding it too long. He opened his mouth to answer, then felt the muscles in his neck and back tense when someone knocked on the door to the office. It couldn’t be time for the session to end, could it? He’d only been here a few minutes—they’d just started.
“I won’t answer that,” Dr. Roth said evenly, noting the look on Dan’s face. “Whoever it is can come back at the end of the hour.” He paused to reconstruct his thoughts, then continued. “This teasing makes others feel better. If someone else is less, it makes them feel more.”
The knocking came again, louder, and Dan felt the answer that had been forming in his thoughts sift away, like the powdered sugar falling off the doughnut he’d had for breakfast. He struggled to answer, to ignore the steady rapping on the other side of the fine wooden door to Dr. Roth’s office. “They aren’t afraid of me. They, uh, they know I won’t fight back.”
“Dr. Roth, please open the door immediately. It’s an emergency.” The words were muffled but understandable; with an apologetic glance at Dan, the doctor rose and turned the lock. A man dressed in a dark suit and tie stood patiently on the other side, holding out a wallet bearing an identification card. Dan could see the gold seal shining underneath the plastic sheeting.
“Sorry I have to interrupt,” the man said levelly. He didn’t bother to introduce himself as he stepped past the befuddled psychiatrist. His face was expressionless but somehow reassuring. “We need your help again, Dan.”
Dan sat up and smoothed his shirt self-consciously, unable to mask his grateful smile. Someone needed him for a change, not the other way around.
Boy, that felt good.
“T hanks for looking after my cat.” Press Lennox dropped his travel bag on the steps and handed his pet to Mrs. Morris, the elderly woman who lived in the town house next door. Mrs. Morris started cooing over Lorca immediately, rubbing the tabby’s neck and ears until it purred with satisfaction. Press had to force himself to smile in her direction as he locked his front door. It wasn’t that he took her pet-sitting for granted or disliked his older neighbor. Quite the contrary—he appreciated the hell out of it every time she watched Lorca, and thought she was charming company on the rare occasions she stopped to chat. He just knew what was coming, and for some reason it drove him nuts every time she did it.
“We’ll take good care of you, won’t we, Lorca?” Mrs. Morris rubbed her cheek against the feline’s ear and Lorca made an odd noise that was half purr and half mewl. The thing was horribly spoiled to begin with and would be impossible for a week after Press got home.
There was a short, double honk from the gray sedan idling at the curb and Press picked up his bag without turning. “I shouldn’t be away long. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.” He strolled to the car and climbed in the passenger side, reluctantly lifting his hand to wave. Now came the
“Crap,” Laura muttered as the annoyed gazes of the other women turned toward her. “Two years of planning to get back to nature, and I still can’t take a decent vacation.” No one else heard her, though, and it was just as well. Resigned, she tightened her legs around the float tube of the raft to brace herself, then raised her hands. It was just too damned sad that she’d told the divisional secretary where she was going on vacation.
“A re they still teasing you at work, Dan? The men from the passport identification department?”
Dan Smithson smiled softly. The question was a hard one and while he didn’t really want to answer it, he liked the smooth sound of Dr. Roth’s voice and wanted to hear it more. Every time he went in for a session, Dr. Roth made him feel calmer, relieved—like letting out his breath when he’d been holding it too long. He opened his mouth to answer, then felt the muscles in his neck and back tense when someone knocked on the door to the office. It couldn’t be time for the session to end, could it? He’d only been here a few minutes—they’d just started.
“I won’t answer that,” Dr. Roth said evenly, noting the look on Dan’s face. “Whoever it is can come back at the end of the hour.” He paused to reconstruct his thoughts, then continued. “This teasing makes others feel better. If someone else is less, it makes them feel more.”
The knocking came again, louder, and Dan felt the answer that had been forming in his thoughts sift away, like the powdered sugar falling off the doughnut he’d had for breakfast. He struggled to answer, to ignore the steady rapping on the other side of the fine wooden door to Dr. Roth’s office. “They aren’t afraid of me. They, uh, they know I won’t fight back.”
“Dr. Roth, please open the door immediately. It’s an emergency.” The words were muffled but understandable; with an apologetic glance at Dan, the doctor rose and turned the lock. A man dressed in a dark suit and tie stood patiently on the other side, holding out a wallet bearing an identification card. Dan could see the gold seal shining underneath the plastic sheeting.
“Sorry I have to interrupt,” the man said levelly. He didn’t bother to introduce himself as he stepped past the befuddled psychiatrist. His face was expressionless but somehow reassuring. “We need your help again, Dan.”
Dan sat up and smoothed his shirt self-consciously, unable to mask his grateful smile. Someone needed him for a change, not the other way around.
Boy, that felt good.
“T hanks for looking after my cat.” Press Lennox dropped his travel bag on the steps and handed his pet to Mrs. Morris, the elderly woman who lived in the town house next door. Mrs. Morris started cooing over Lorca immediately, rubbing the tabby’s neck and ears until it purred with satisfaction. Press had to force himself to smile in her direction as he locked his front door. It wasn’t that he took her pet-sitting for granted or disliked his older neighbor. Quite the contrary—he appreciated the hell out of it every time she watched Lorca, and thought she was charming company on the rare occasions she stopped to chat. He just knew what was coming, and for some reason it drove him nuts every time she did it.
“We’ll take good care of you, won’t we, Lorca?” Mrs. Morris rubbed her cheek against the feline’s ear and Lorca made an odd noise that was half purr and half mewl. The thing was horribly spoiled to begin with and would be impossible for a week after Press got home.
There was a short, double honk from the gray sedan idling at the curb and Press picked up his bag without turning. “I shouldn’t be away long. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.” He strolled to the car and climbed in the passenger side, reluctantly lifting his hand to wave. Now came the
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