by Mia Sheridan
“Who better than you?” Zach asked softly, solemnly, a world of depth in his dark gaze.
Reed took in his meaning, felt it settle inside him. Who better? Who better than the son of a woman who had shown him firsthand exactly what it meant to overcome? A woman who’d convinced him anything was possible, because she was a living example of the will of the human spirit to rise. Who better to recognize that same spirit in another and help her see it in herself?
“I will say this, though,” Zach added. “Whoever this woman is, whatever her fight and whatever she faces it with, you’ll have to let her come to you. She’ll need that, and you will too, Reed. You can fight with her, but you can’t fight for her.”
Reed blew out a breath. Yeah, he’d had an instinct about that. And Zach had confirmed it. It was the reason he’d left her hotel room when she’d told him to go. He’d thought an awful lot about Liza and what might be best for her, but from a purely selfish standpoint, he acknowledged that if anything was going to happen between them, he’d need to know it was her decision as well as his. He’d need that. A weight lifted, not because anything had been solved necessarily, but because he’d done what he could as far as he and Liza went. If anything was going to progress, she needed to make that move. It was out of his hands. “Thanks, Zach,” he said, and he hoped the simple words conveyed how much.
“Anytime.”
Reed stood up, moving toward the door when Zach called, “Hey, I almost forgot, did you see WLWT’s morning news?”
Reed turned, his stomach sinking with the feeling he was not going to like what Zach was about to tell him. “Why?” He’d been trying to avoid the news for the past few days, the constant calls, the reporters hanging around outside the building where the city’s detectives worked. They’d inspired hundreds of calls and tips from the public, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing if it amounted to something. But so far, all it’d accomplished was detectives being taken off the case so they could go on wild goose chases. It’d slowed them down to a significant degree, and they couldn’t afford that right now.
Zach tapped the computer on the side of his desk, indicating the website of the popular local news station, Reed assumed. “They’re dubbing our guy, The Hollow-Eyed Killer.”
The Hollow-Eyed Killer? Great. Nice and spooky. Just the kind of press a sicko with delusions of grandeur would appreciate. “Awesome,” Reed sighed.
Zach’s chuckle was short-lived. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Liza turned the corner, coming up short as she almost collided into someone, jerking her coffee back and barely maneuvering her body so the coffee in her hand didn’t slosh onto her pale gray sweater. “Oh, I’m so sorry—” Her words cut off when she saw who it was. Chad.
Liza stepped around him, continuing toward her office.
“Liza, wait,” Chad said, hurrying to catch up to her. “Listen—"
“Stay away from me, Dr. Headley,” she said quietly but with her teeth gritted as she picked up her pace.
“You’re mad. I can understand why, but you have to see—”
She halted, turning toward him as he, too, came up short. “You had no right. No right to share my personal information with anyone. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust.”
To his benefit, he appeared at least mildly ashamed. “I was concerned about you and let it get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”
“No,” Liza said. “It won’t.” She turned and walked the few steps to her office, closing the door behind her. She saw his shadow through the frosted portion of her upper door, and he appeared to deliberate knocking, but in the end, turned and walked away. Liza’s shoulders relaxed as she sat down at her desk and opened her computer to look at the day’s schedule. Three appointments that morning, and two after lunch, followed by a group session. A full day.
Perfect. It was exactly what she needed.
In preparation, Liza pulled the files of the patients she’d be seeing, glancing through them quickly to make sure she was up to date, and that nothing had changed in the few days she’d been out of the office.
As Liza sipped her coffee, she went through the emails she’d missed, mostly concerning non-pressing administrative topics, answering the few that did need to be immediately addressed. When she was done with that, she began to put her computer to sleep, when she moved the cursor away from that command, opening up the web browser, and going to the front page of a local news station.
The lead story was about the man the media was now dubbing The Hollow-Eyed Killer. Liza felt her face do a strange sort of eye-rolling grimace. She wondered what Reed thought of that. She wasn’t an expert on serial killers, preferring to work with the traumatized over the psychopathic, but she did know psychopaths would lap up that sort of attention. Even worse, it might inspire other psychopaths looking for similar attention. Notoriety.
Certainly the media knew that too. Apparently, they didn’t care. Ratings always trumped integrity.
Liza scrolled down past the article, stopping at a photograph of the chief of police giving a news conference. Her gaze immediately went to the man in the suit to his right, standing with his hands linked in front of him, his expression grave. Reed. Her heart picked up its pace. Unconsciously she reached out, her fingers dropping before they touched the screen. She sighed. Why are you doing this to yourself, Liza? Still, she gave herself another moment to admire the handsome detective with the intelligent gaze. One of the good guys.
She needed to call Reed about her brother. She owed him—and the Cincinnati Police Department that had come to her aid when she’d called—an update on the break-in.
She clicked off the website and put her computer to sleep. Picking up her phone, she prepared to call Reed, almost hoping she’d receive his voicemail, but she startled as the sound of an alarm clanged in the hall outside her door. She stood quickly, flinging her office door open and looking out into the hallway where two security guards rushed past, followed by a couple of staff members who looked stricken.
What the heck?
Emergencies at the hospital weren’t unheard of, but rarely did alarm bells sound on the administrative floors. This was something more serious than a patient who’d sharpened a straw and was threatening to stab a fellow patient. Liza followed, catching up to a female nurse. “Do you know what’s going on?”
The woman gave Liza a quick glance. “A patient managed to grab one of the security officer’s guns in one of the common areas. He’s holding it to his head near the infirmary.”
Oh God.
“Any idea who it is?”
“I think it’s one of your patients, Dr. Nolan.”
“Mine? Do you . . .?”
Her question was answered when they rounded the corner and saw Simon Mullner sitting at the end of the hallway next to the door that led to the infirmary, a gun held to his head, tears streaking down his face.
Dr. Headley was standing a few feet in front of him, his hands held out as he apparently tried to talk to the crying man.
Liza’s heart lurched, her feet moving toward Chad before she’d really made the determination to do so. “Dr. Nolan,” the security guard standing against the wall hissed under his breath. “Not a good idea.”
Liza hesitated, but kept moving forward anyway. Chad must have heard the soft click of her heels on the floor because he glanced back, and when he saw her, his eyes opened wide, and he made a quick movement with his head indicating she should move back.
Liza gave Chad a small shake of her head. She felt his fingertips graze her arm as she moved around him, but she pulled away, moving toward Simon.
“Liza,” Chad said behind her, through what she could hear were clenched teeth. “Stay back. Liza.” He raised his voice slightly as he said her name again, his demand clear.
“Simon,” she said softly.
The man looked up at her through red, swollen eyes. “Don’t come near me,” he said, tapping the gun ba
rrel against his scalp. “I’ll blow my brains out right here.”
Liza stopped, putting her hands up, showing submission. “Please don’t do that, Simon,” she said. “I just want to talk to you. I want to find out what made you so upset.” She took a step closer.
Simon let out a mucous-laden laugh, devoid of humor, using the hand not holding the gun to wipe his sleeve across his face. He made eye contact with her, and she could see that if he was medicated, it was not heavily. She hoped she could get through to him, and she didn’t have time to ask if his medication had been tweaked or changed while she was out. But if he was lucid enough to get that close to a security guard and remove his weapon, he might be lucid enough to reason with. Something had triggered this episode, and she was determined to find out what. But at the moment, she didn’t have time for diagnostics. Here, in this moment, she only had her instincts to work with.
“What made me so upset?” Simon repeated. He tilted his head, watching her where she stood. “At least you know my name,” he said. He wiped his nose again, the gun jostling with his movement. Liza held her breath for a moment. “I appreciate that.” He removed the gun, looking behind her to where the other staff stood and waving it at them.
There was a general intake of fearful breath behind her and her stomach clenched again.
“None of them do,” he said. “None of them know my name.” He placed the gun back to his temple and looked at Liza again. “It’s because I’m nobody. I’m nobody at all.”
“That isn’t true, Simon.” She took a step closer, and then another. “Your name is Simon Thomas Mullner. You’re nineteen years old, and you were born here in Cincinnati, Ohio.” His gaze narrowed. She took another step, and then another until she was only a few feet from him. “May I sit down next to you, Simon?”
Simon glanced behind her again and shook his head, the movement of the gun making Liza want to cringe. Breathe. Breathe. From this close, she could see his hand shaking. If he got more agitated, squeezed that trigger, even accidentally, she was never going to be able to forgive herself. Liza took a deep breath, suppressing her own trembling as well as she could, trying to appear in control for him. “You grew up with your mother after your father died in an auto accident.”
Simon let out a small sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, swiping at his dripping nose again. Liza took another step toward him, going down on her knees. She heard Chad say her name again behind her and ignored him. Simon was talking to her, responding to her, and she was not going to leave him now.
“They don’t think you should be getting near me,” Simon said. “They’re right. You shouldn’t.”
Liza shook her head. “I don’t think they’re right,” she said. “I think they’re wrong. I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Simon, and I don’t think you’re going to hurt yourself.”
His face screwed up for a moment and several new tears dripped down his cheeks. “You don’t know what I’m going to do. Sometimes even I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
She nodded. “I know what you mean. I do. It feels like other people have this idea of the world that doesn’t line up with your own. It makes you feel like an outsider. Almost like . . . almost like you’re an alien from another planet and you don’t belong.”
Simon sniffled, regarding her for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Who told you that? Did you read it in a book?” His eyes darted behind her. When she glanced back, she saw that Chad had taken a few steps forward. Simon waved the gun at him and as he did so, his arm flew in front of Liza too. Her skin prickled. “Stay back I said!” he yelled.
Damn it, she’d just started to get somewhere with him. She looked over her shoulder. “Go on, Dr. Headley. Leave us alone to talk please.”
Chad’s gaze whipped to Liza and then back to Simon. “No way.”
“The guards are here,” she said, moving her eyes to the guards standing down the hall. “They’ll help us if we need it.” She inclined her head back toward them. “Go on.”
Chad paused for a moment, his lips pressed together so tightly, they almost disappeared in his face. After a weighted silence, he turned and walked back down the hall, his shoulders held stiffly. She saw him stop and whisper something to one of the guards, and then she turned back to Simon as his footsteps faded away behind her.
“You said us,” he murmured, his head falling to the wall behind him. “But there’s no us, there’s just me. There’s always been just me, and I’m so alone. I’ll always be alone.”
Liza licked her lips, thinking about what Simon had said the last time they’d been alone together in a session. You don’t see, you don’t see, he’d asserted. But she did see. Liza knew the feelings he was expressing because she’d felt them too. The otherness, the deep loneliness, the aching hopelessness, and she suspected, the shame.
Liza would bet the whole farm that Simon’s mother had been less than motherly to him. But like she’d told Reed about her own situation, knowing the basic outline of a story, and learning the details was a much different thing. Much different.
She sighed, scooting so close to him that her knees touched the toes of his feet. And for the first time in Liza’s career, new though it still was, she didn’t bring to mind a textbook, or someone else’s theory, or some professor’s talking points. She looked at the man in front of her, really looked, really saw, and she recalled what Reed had said to her: Don’t deny your past, Liza. It’s not your shame to carry. Grieve it, and then use it to strengthen others.
She had credibility, she realized suddenly. By virtue of what she’d experienced, she understood pain like only those who had been broken by it and learned to stand. She reached out and took Simon’s hand not holding the gun. “I do see, Simon. I do. I know what it’s like to feel pain so deep, you shut out reality, and create one of your own. I think your mother was unkind to you. My father was the one who hurt me. Can I tell you what it was like for me?”
“What it was like for . . . you?” he repeated.
Liza nodded. His eyes latched on to hers and she began to tell him her story.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Liza’s lips curved into a smile as she got out of her car, staring at the apartment building where Reed lived. The building she’d been in that night, the one that now seemed like a lifetime ago. The one she’d run from, scared and confused about her feelings for the man who’d looked in her eyes and seen her though she’d done everything in her power to hide from him.
A shiver of nerves raced down her spine and she was tempted to jump back in her car and drive away, but she steeled herself and walked to the front entrance. She still wasn’t sure this was the best idea, but she was determined not to overthink it. She was determined not to let fear rule her. Not today when she’d experienced such a victory, not just for herself, but for one of her patients too.
She saw it again in her mind, the moment Simon had put down the gun and allowed her to help him up and lead him back to his room. There’d been something in his eyes and she dared to believe it was hope. Hope that she’d put there. Hope that he was wrong about what his life could and could not be based solely on where he’d come from and the things others had done.
Reed had given Liza a renewed sense of hope too, and she wanted to share what had happened with him. She hadn’t even gone home. She’d left work and driven straight there before she lost her nerve, thankful she’d taken note of Reed’s address when she’d Ubered it home all those weeks ago.
She rode the elevator to Reed’s floor and then walked down the hall to the door she knew to be his, raising her hand and knocking, her heart beating swiftly in her chest.
She heard footsteps and the door opened and as Liza looked up, her heart dropped and her smile faded. In front of her stood a gorgeous woman wearing nothing but a towel. Liza took a small step backward, a buzz picking up in her brain.
Oh God. Stupid, stupid. You can’t just drop by Reed’s apartment. He’s a single guy who obviously has a
life that includes . . . gorgeous women who take showers after . . . no, she wouldn’t let her mind go there.
The woman was looking at her curiously.
“Uh, hi,” Liza managed. “Sorry. I must have the wrong address.” God, she sounded like an idiot. And she knew very well she didn’t have the wrong address. The name Davies was spelled out right below the number on the front door. She just needed to turn and leave.
“Are you here to see Reed?”
“Well . . . yes, but I should have called. It’s uh, about a case,” she mumbled. “Sorry, just . . . I’ll call him later.”
Liza turned to slink away when the woman called, “Wait. My brother should be home any second, do you want to wait?”
Brother? Liza didn’t exactly want to acknowledge the unbidden joy that rose in her chest, but it was too intense to ignore. “You’re his sister,” she said, barely managing to contain the sigh of relief that threatened to follow the words.
The girl grinned. “Yeah. I’m Arryn.” She pulled her towel higher. “Sorry about this. I was playing my music a little loud. I figured it was crotchety old Mrs. Prentice next door coming to tell me to turn it down.”
Liza shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t ring the downstairs bell because I—”
“You knew which apartment was his,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She stepped back. “Come on in. I’m going to run and put some clothes on.”
Arryn shut the door and Liza entered Reed’s apartment. “I really can’t stay,” she lied. She’d been temporarily distracted by her happiness that the half-naked beauty at Reed’s door was his sister, but now she felt insecure about dropping by again. “Maybe I could leave him a note,” she said as she glanced around at what she’d barely noticed before.
The foyer area where she was standing was small, and to the left was a kitchen. She could only see the edge of a refrigerator and a gray tiled floor. To the right was a living room that looked comfortable and modern, with a huge television on one wall.
