Bay of Deception by Timothy Allan Pipes Page B

worry, lover," he said, shifting his gaze to her face.  "I’ll be here tomorrow to hurt you just like you need.” He laughed broadly at his little joke, hoping what he’d just saidwas tru e .

CHAPTER TEN
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    "I can’t believe you’d ask such a thing of me, Oliver,” Doctor Alicia Merrill stated as flatly as her Georgian accent allowed.  “Information between counselor and client is strictly confidential.”  She fixed a disproving eye on him. “You of all people should know that!” 
    Oliver winced inwardly but continued to stare impassively at his former therapist.  “Alicia, you know that’s not what I asked...”
    “Oliver,’ she cut in.  “After all our time together, do you think I will allow you to hide behind semantics?”  Her disapproving stare grew into a frown, causing Oliver to shift uneasily in his seat, as he’d often done under the glare of those clear searching eyes.
    Upwards of seventy years old, the doctor’s short but stylish gray hair gave the impression of a trendy grandmother.  From their first session on, her large aqua-green eyes had always been ready to flash onto whatever was not completely honest and forthright.  Something he’d been unable to do by himself at one time.
    Following the previous summer’s fiasco and Linda’s eventual departure, he’d started to break down, bit by bit.  After chewing out the Duty Sergeant for the third time in a week, Chief Williams had put him on administrative leave, handed him Alicia’s business card and told him to show up the following Thursday at the address listed on the card.  That first session with her had begun what developed into two solid months of twice weekly therapy.
    Every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00pm, he’d shown up to face the tragedy which had broken his marriage, nearly derailed his career and, in general, turned his life upside down.  It had not been pleasant but it had worked.  During their last session together just two weeks ago, she'd taken him to lunch, pronounced his mental state healthy and told him to stop calling her, 'Dr. Merrill.'  
    “Okay, okay.” Oliver held up his hands in surrender.  “I admit to eventually wanting more than the name of her therapist.  But a woman is dead and I have good reason to believe that whoever was seeing her may have important information toward catching her killer.”  He looked at Alicia and saw with relief her piercing eyes had lost a measure of their intensity.
    “What you say may be true, Oliver dear,” her lilting drawl suddenly became more pronounced.  “But it does not negate the issue of client-therapist confidentiality.” 
    “I’m not saying it does, Alicia.  I’m simply making the point that, with the approval of Carol’s family, we may find something that will lead us to her killer.”  He crossed his legs and fished his notepad out along with a worn looking pen.  He scribbled his home and work numbers onto it, then ripped off the small page noisily and passed it to her.
    “I’m just asking for the name of her therapist, nothing more,” he said smiling.  "And I don’t know of anyone more capable of finding out who that person is than you. 
    “Flatterer.” She said, returning his smile.
    “Guilty.”
    Several long seconds passed as Alicia stared at the numbers, then with a nearly inaudible sigh she set the paper aside with a slight trembling of her hand. 
    “Very well, Oliver, I will find this poor woman's therapist for you, but be aware...” The elderly doctor leaned forward slightly. “Those in the counseling professions feel quite strongly about this subject and more than likely a receptive audience will not be waiting.”
    “Fair enough, Alicia, I consider myself warned.”  He rose and saw too late the look in her eyes.
    “Please, Oliver, sit.”  She waved him back toward the seat.  “I have a few minutes before my next client comes in and I’d love to know how things are in