She Told a Lie

by P. D. Workman

  A video. Zachary tapped the triangle and watched the same video that Rhys had shown him before. Madison and Noah together. Telling Rhys to quit taping. Zachary opened his mouth to remind Rhys that he’d already seen the video. But there was a reason Rhys was showing it to him again. Rhys knew where Madison was now. Knew that she was with Noah and that she hadn’t been kidnapped or murdered. And he still wanted Zachary to watch the video.

  Zachary tapped it and watched it over. Madison, looking sore and tired. Flinching and initially pulling away when Noah touched her. Noah’s anger when he saw Rhys taping them.

  With his elbows on the table, Zachary put his palms over his eyes, closing his eyes and reviewing the video and everything else he knew.

  “I’m going out,” Vera called out, as she walked by.

  Zachary removed his hands from his eyes and saw her look in through the doorway. She stopped, head cocked to the side.

  “Are you okay, Zachary?”

  “Yeah. Just tired.”

  It was a good excuse, because he usually looked tired. He was chronically short on sleep. Vera nodded. “Don’t keep him too late, Rhys. He needs to go home to bed.”

  Rhys nodded his agreement. Vera left the kitchen, and in a minute they heard her close the front door as she left the house.

  Rhys motioned toward his phone, still beside Zachary’s plate. Zachary pushed it slowly back toward him.

  “She looks like… something could be wrong,” Zachary said, not wanting to put ideas into Rhys’s head if it weren’t something he’d already thought of. He didn’t want Rhys lying awake at night, thinking about what was happening to Madison.

  Rhys nodded briefly. His eyes were on Zachary’s, waiting for him to say more.

  “You think this guy is taking advantage of her? That he’s not… what he appears to be?”

  Rhys nodded firmly. Yes. Of course. Why would he keep showing Zachary that video if he didn’t think it told a story? Madison, tired and in pain from her recent activities. Flinching away from a man’s touch. Pulling away from the one who was supposed to be her boyfriend. Noah’s anger at Rhys catching them on video.

  Did Rhys know? Did Noah and Madison realize that Rhys knew? Was that why Madison had to disappear?

  Back at his apartment, Zachary scowled as he looked through the pictures he had of Madison once more, looking for signs that she was being coerced into trafficking for Noah. Or, if not coerced… encouraged. Pushed. Emotionally blackmailed. Maybe, as Joss had said, she didn’t even know that she was being trafficked. She didn’t realize that’s what it was. She thought that it was just her own choice to help out her boyfriend, not realizing that she was part of a larger criminal enterprise. Not understanding what would happen if she refused.

  But the pictures were not a lot to go on. Rhys had seen her. He’d seen how she had changed and how she behaved around Noah. Something had struck him as being wrong, but he couldn’t tell Zachary exactly what that was. He could keep showing him the same pictures and videos over and over again, but he couldn’t explain what it was that he was seeing and feeling. And Zachary didn’t think that was just his communication difficulties. Even if Rhys could put it all into spoken words, maybe he still wouldn’t have been able to explain what it was he knew. But he knew.

  He thought back to Rhys’s response when Zachary had asked him, “What do you want me to do?”

  Rhys had considered it for a few minutes, then he had pointed to Zachary, pointed to himself, and pointed to the video of Madison on his phone. You and me go see Madison.

  Zachary had immediately shaken his head. He couldn’t take Rhys there. He wouldn’t do it. They would have to find another way to approach the problem.

  He had thought that he was done with the case. He had told Kenzie that it was solved. He’d told his family that it was closed. But there he was, looking through the pictures and the notes he had written when he talked to Madison’s family and the people at the school.

  If Madison had been pushed into prostitution and drug addiction, then he was morally obligated to do what he could to help her. It wasn’t just a matter of telling the police where she was and letting her family know that she didn’t want to go back home. That didn’t clear him of any obligation. It wasn’t the end of the case, and he knew it.

  Zachary rubbed his gritty eyes, looking for some other approach. He had talked to Madison and Noah. Of course, the next step was to approach her when she was alone. She might have a different response from what she had when Noah was there. Like in the video when she had told Rhys to stop recording and to leave her alone. That was what she had said out loud, but her eyes and facial expression had been apologetic. She didn’t like the way Noah had talked to Rhys. She hadn’t wanted to tell Rhys to go away and leave her alone.

  When Rhys had followed up with a message asking her if she were safe, she had told him that he shouldn’t contact her again.

  Noah could be controlling her use of her phone as well. He could be reading all of her messages and making sure she responded to them the way that he wanted her to. He could be controlling every aspect of her life, while she thought she was still in control.

  So how was Zachary going to get her alone? That was what he needed to do. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to talk to the cops even when she was alone with them. But Noah had been in the next room. He could have overheard. He could have the room bugged. If the cops had taken Madison out of there, he would have a pretty good idea that she had wanted to go. They didn’t have any reason to arrest her unless she gave them a reason to.

  24

  Zachary shifted in his chair. He had not anticipated that he would be quite so uncomfortable in his session with Dr. Boyle. He had been seeing her for a while and, although he was sometimes nervous about telling her something or exploring his deepest feelings about a problem or an incident in his past, he had been forcing himself to see her regularly and not to cancel or reschedule any of his sessions. Not like after the assault, when he had avoided going to see her for weeks, when it was probably the time that he needed to see her the most. He hadn’t been able to. He’d just shut down.

  But having Kenzie in the room there with him changed things completely.

  He wasn’t afraid that Dr. Boyle was going to reveal anything to Kenzie or break any confidences. She had already promised him that. He still had his privacy. She wouldn’t tell Kenzie anything Zachary didn’t want to tell her.

  And he wasn’t afraid that Kenzie was going to tell Dr. Boyle anything that was shameful or embarrassing. It would be easier if Kenzie talked to Dr. Boyle directly about any concerns that she had than for Zachary to have to put them into words and bring them up himself.

  But he’d never had anyone in sessions with him. Not since he was a kid and had been forced at several points to do family or group therapy. Bridget had never wanted to do couples therapy. It felt wrong to have Kenzie in the room with him.

  He shifted again, looking over at Kenzie, who gave him a warm, reassuring smile.

  Everyone had said everything right. They had all assured him that they would be respectful of his boundaries and his feelings. But it didn’t feel that way.

  Dr. Boyle’s door opened and she walked in. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Zachary. I had an emergency call. That doesn’t normally happen.”

  Zachary nodded and smiled tightly, saying nothing.

  “And you must be Kenzie. It’s nice to meet you.” Dr. Boyle extended her hand to Kenzie, and the two women shook. They didn’t make small talk about how they had each heard of the other and were looking forward to the session. Both quietly professional.

  Zachary shifted in his seat, looking for a comfortable position. Dr. Boyle’s eyes went to him as she sat down.

  “You’re looking a little anxious there, my friend.”

  “Yeah,” Zachary croaked. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. This is a stressful situation. It’s something new. It might feel intrusive, like Kenzie isn’t supposed to be a part of thi
s life.”

  Zachary nodded his agreement.

  “It’s okay,” Kenzie said. “After we’ve done it once or twice, it will be natural.”

  Zachary tried to keep his face blank and emotionless like a mask. He didn’t want the two of them reading him, discussing him with each other. He wasn’t a monkey in a cage.

  But he sure felt like one.

  He didn’t need to pound his chest like a gorilla; his heart was already doing that, pounding so hard it hurt. He knew it was just anxiety. He wasn’t having a heart attack. At least, that was what they always told him. It might feel like he was going to die, but he wasn’t. If he just rode it out, it would go away by itself.

  Zachary wiped at the sweat trickling down his temple. He tried to meet Dr. Boyle’s eyes. To look like he was calm and casual and ready to begin the session. Just like any other session. Just like any other patient she had. Totally onside and cooperative.

  “Do you need a minute?” she asked.

  “I’m…” Zachary swallowed. He couldn’t find the right words to respond.

  “Zachary, are you okay?” It seemed to be dawning on Kenzie for the first time that something was really wrong. Her voice was full of concern. Not like Bridget, who had grown to hate his panic attacks, acting like he could decide to turn them on or off.

  Dr. Boyle looked at her watch. “I can give you some time, if you need it. I realize that I’m already running late, but that’s not going to affect your session. I’m not rushing you into your first couples session. I want you to be ready. To be comfortable with what we’re doing here. If you feel pressured, you’re going to associate those feelings with our sessions, and we want this to be a safe, comfortable place for you. So take your time.”

  The sweat was still gathering on Zachary’s temples and was running down his back in long, cold streams. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on Dr. Boyle’s desk and mopped his face. He used his right hand, aware that his left was clenching a handful of his shirt tightly over his chest. It was like it wasn’t even under his control.

  “Maybe we should do some guided relaxation,” Dr. Boyle suggested.

  Despite all of his efforts to appear calm, Zachary started gasping for breath, unable to get enough oxygen. There were too many people in the room. Kenzie was stealing his air. His breaths were loud in the room, horrendous gasps.

  “Zachary!” Kenzie moved her chair closer and grabbed his right arm to comfort him. She couldn’t exactly hold his hand while it was full of soggy tissues. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe. You’re all right.”

  Dr. Boyle stood up and hurried over to Zachary, pressing her cool fingers firmly over the pulse point on his left wrist.

  “Nice long exhales,” she prompted. “When people start to hyperventilate, they aren’t getting rid of carbon dioxide. It isn’t lack of oxygen, it’s that you aren’t getting rid of the carbon dioxide.”

  “Can’t,” Zachary gasped. “Can’t breathe. My heart!”

  “You’ve had panic attacks before,” Dr. Boyle said calmly. “You’ve never had one here, but you have a history, don’t you?”

  Zachary nodded his agreement. The pain in his chest was like a knife. Heart tissue dying. They didn’t know what it was like. He was going to die there right in front of them. While they watched. Because they thought it was just another panic attack.

  “Hurts.”

  “I know it does,” Dr. Boyle agreed. “Do you have your meds with you? Do you want to take something?”

  Zachary panted. He looked at Kenzie, sweat running down his hairline, embarrassed for her to see him like that. She’d seen him have one before. But he’d been triggered by Bridget. Kenzie had been able to see that he had been provoked. It at least made sense.

  For him to break down in his therapist’s office because he had to do couples therapy with Kenzie would be an insult to her. She’d think that he was trying to get out of it.

  “It’s okay,” Kenzie assured him. “You can relax. It’s fine.”

  But he knew it wasn’t fine. He wanted to get through it without taking a Xanax. He still wanted to go through with the session, and the combination of a panic attack and Xanax would knock him out. He’d be too tired to do the session. He would just want to crash and go to sleep.

  “No,” he told Dr. Boyle. “I’m… I’m okay.”

  He took a deeper breath at another stabbing pain to his heart. He held back tears, struggling mightily to keep from completely embarrassing himself.

  “Can I get you a glass of water? Do you want to be alone? How can I help?”

  Zachary shook his head.

  Kenzie rubbed his back. Zachary could feel how his shirt was soaked through with sweat, but she didn’t recoil. She acted like she didn’t even notice, moving her hand in slow, firm circles. “I know it’s not a flashback or dissociation, but would anchoring help?” she suggested.

  Zachary shook his head. But he tried anyway. What could it hurt? “I see… blue sky outside.” He tried to pick the things he saw that would normally make him feel good. “Your lipstick. B-birds. Dr. Boyle’s pen.” He took a shuddering breath. “Coffee cup.”

  “Good,” Kenzie encouraged. “How about five things you hear?”

  “My breathing.” It was drowning everything else out. Zachary tried to hear something else. He breathed out as long as he could, getting rid of the carbon dioxide and trying to hear something other than his own rasping gasps. “My heart. There’s… a phone ringing.” He strained, holding his breath. “You… moving…” He swallowed. “The air.”

  “The air?” Kenzie repeated. “I think you’re grasping. You can’t hear the air.”

  Zachary managed a couple of longer breaths. He pressed his fist into his chest, trying to focus on slowing his heart down.

  “I can,” he insisted. “It’s forced air heating. I can hear it.”

  He swallowed. His mouth was very dry from breathing so hard.

  “Smell?” Kenzie suggested.

  Zachary swallowed again and tried to focus his attention on his sense of smell. Dr. Boyle released his wrist and leaned back on her desk, watching him.

  “Your shampoo.” Despite the sopping tissues in his hand, Zachary put his hand alongside Kenzie’s lowered face and pressed his face against hers, smelling not only her shampoo, but her skin and everything that was Kenzie. She didn’t pull away from him, but turned her head slightly and brushed his cheek with her lips. Not quite a kiss, but close. Zachary was breathing more easily. He closed his eyes and took a couple of slow breaths, counting the intake and the exhale. The hand over his chest loosened a little. He rubbed the muscles, sore from holding himself so rigid.

  “That’s looking better,” Dr. Boyle said.

  Zachary nodded.

  Kenzie sat back down, drawing away from him, but at the same time holding his hand with the balled up tissue inside her own.

  “Sorry,” Zachary told them both, embarrassed.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Dr. Boyle said. “If this was easy, you wouldn’t need me. You come here together, looking for my help with your relationship, which is very important to you. You don’t want to mess it up. It feels strange to have someone else here. You’re venturing into the unknown.”

  Zachary gulped and rubbed at his face, trying to wipe all of the sweat away with his left hand this time, keeping the right in Kenzie’s grasp.

  “I’m nervous too,” Kenzie offered. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m kind of worried about what it’s going to be like. What if I make things worse? What if Dr. Boyle says we’re incompatible and shouldn’t be together? What if you decide you’re better off without me? That it’s too hard?”

  Her fears reflected a lot of Zachary’s.

  “For what it’s worth,” Dr. Boyle said, “I’m not going to tell you that you should break up.”

  “How do you know?” Kenzie challenged. “Maybe you decide that we’re not good for each other. That I’m damaging Zachary?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t think that’s going to happen. If one of you is being abusive, then we’ll talk about how to change the dynamic. I might recommend certain individual therapies, anger management, something like that. I don’t think that any relationship is hopeless. Not when both partners come here to see me and are determined to do what it takes to make things work. You’re already way ahead of the curve by coming here to learn how to deal with your differences.”

  “My differences,” Zachary corrected.

  Dr. Boyle shook her head, smiling slightly. “You are both different than each other. Yes, Zachary, you have a lot of challenges. More than the average person, for sure. But that doesn’t mean that you are broken and Kenzie and I are here to fix you. And it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever have a healthy romantic relationship. This is the starting line, not the finish line. You’ve got lots of road ahead of you.”

  “I can’t even do therapy without having a meltdown,” Zachary said with disgust.

  “Really? This is the first time I’ve seen you have a panic attack. Which means that you can do therapy without having a meltdown. When is the last time you had couples therapy?”

  “Well… never.”

  “So would you say it’s something new?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There are a lot of people who feel anxiety over new situations. You need to give yourself a break.”

  Zachary rubbed at a spot on his jeans, nodding. He looked at the clock on Dr. Boyle’s desk. How much of their time slot had he wasted with his breakdown?

  “We can still get started today,” Dr. Boyle said. “In fact, I think it’s important that we still go ahead, so that you can feel like you have achieved something today. It will make it easier next time.”

  “You don’t think I’ll have a panic attack next time?” Zachary sniffled, still trying to get his emotions smoothed down and under his control.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. But even if you do, we can still achieve something, can’t we? We can still move ahead with couples counseling.”