The New Patient (Dr. Epstein's Couch: Criminal Minds Series) by Ann Black

chat to the boss. We’ll need to get approval, but I don’t think the brass will be a problem. Not once I mention what the media might do with this one,” he says smiling like a Cheshire cat.
    Bob stays while I secure the windows, plug the security code into the system and lock the front door. As I get behind the wheel of my car I take one last look at my practice. Despite my instincts and training, I made the mistake of underestimating Kyle. If I were a betting man, I’d say I’m about to die. But at least if he’s focused on me, my patients will be safe.
     
     

Week Six
     
     
     
    Monday 28th August, 2:00am
     
    I wake up in a tangle of sheets and remember dreaming of Bob being murdered by Kyle, but I couldn’t run fast enough to save him.
    I blink up at the ceiling and feel my pulse begin to settle. My ears strain to hear the sounds in my house, searching for anything out of place. I hear a distinct thudding noise. I slow my breathing and keep listening, and this time I hear a rattling sound coming from downstairs.
    I reach across the bed for my baseball bat and slide out of bed. I’m naked and feel the chill of late winter the minute I walk into the unheated hall—the latest of my ever-increasing cost-saving measures.
    Scanning the familiar dark shapes that comprise my living room furniture I see everything’s in order. Straining my ears again, I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. I squint to see out onto the deck. The curtains are drawn. I can’t see any shadows beyond them, so I sneak across my heavy Persian rug and lean against the wall. Carefully pulling back the edge of the curtain I survey the greyed deck. The streetlights afford me a good view...of nothing.
    Breathing a sigh of relief I switch on the reading lamp and collapse onto my favourite leather armchair. I’m getting more and more paranoid as the days go on. I’m contemplating watching some football when I hear the squeal of tires outside. I have just enough time to sit forward before a volley of gunshots ping and thud into my house.
    Throwing myself flat on the floor I lay with my head down as I listen to the car speed away. Soon after, I hear another car speeding off with sirens screaming. I lay flat for a few long moments before getting up. I put my hand on my phone just as it rings.
    “Bob.” I’m surprised by the sound of my own voice. It seems distant and I realise I must be in shock.
    “You alright Doc?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Just sit tight. I’m coming over. The boys are after the vehicle now,” he says before hanging up.
    Realising I’m naked I pull on some jeans and a jumper and pour myself a Jack Daniels.
     

     
    7:00 am
    Bob sits opposite me on my black leather couch, “You ready for this, Doc?” he asks.
    “Of course.”
    The media had started to set up at the end of the street, the boys in uniform had taped around my front yard to establish a crime scene. Bob was nervous, but he wasn’t talking much.
    I’m tired. Tired of swinging between fear and anger, tired of being stuck inside all day, tired of going without sex and really fucking tired of being in my own head 24/7.
    I want this to be over. I’m so fucking done with this shit that I’m almost crazy enough to hunt the prick down and shoot him myself.
    “Any luck apprehending the shooter?” I ask.
    Bob shakes his head, “Nope. Hard to believe how these pricks get away. Apparently our boys got caught behind a garbage truck, by the time they got around it the vehicle was out of site. They didn’t get the rego. No doubt it’s been garaged and re-sprayed by now.”
    Bob pulls a leather-bound book from his brief case. He hands it me, “Monica kept a diary. Her mother found it while she was cleaning out her flat. I think you’ll find June onward makes for interesting reading,” he says.
    “You want me to read this now?” I ask.
    “Yep. It’s evidence and with the way things are at the Station, I’m keeping a tight reign on every scrap we have,”