Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) by Netta Newbound

Michael." I slammed the shower door. “Idiot,” I said under my breath.
    I got out of the bathroom to an empty house. I was tempted by the silence to crawl back to bed for an hour, but I had an appointment with Doctor Freda and she was a stickler for punctuality.
     
    ***
     
    I'd been seeing Dr Freda for almost eleven years. Not that we always got along—there had been some humdinger fights between us. Still, she was the only constant person in my life other than Michael and the kids. We gave each other lots of attitude, but there was a mutual respect.
    The receptionist was talking on the phone and waved at me as I entered. I sat down on one of the two beige leather sofas and chose a couple of magazines from the neat pile on the coffee table.
    The receptionist hung up the phone. "You can go through, Amanda. She's waiting for you."
    "Thanks, Monika. You're looking very bronzed. Have you been on holiday?" I appraised her slender figure. She wore red knee length skirt and feminine cream blouse, meant for much warmer weather than our autumn climate.
    "Got home from Greece last week. I'm already planning my next trip—I loved it."
    "Ooh, lucky you." I stood up and placed the magazines back on top of the pile. "Is she in a good mood today?" I nodded in the direction of Dr Freda's office.
    "You know what she's like—she doesn't do good moods." Monika laughed.
    "I heard that, Monika, thank you. Amanda, come on through." Dr Freda was standing in the doorway glaring at us, and shaking her head, though a slight smile played behind her amber-coloured eyes. She was dressed in a black trouser suit and black blouse. Her jet-black hair was scraped back into a severe bun, a complete contrast to her pale, almost translucent skin. She would have made a great bride of Dracula, but she was a day late—Halloween was yesterday.
    I glanced back at Monika, gave an exaggerated wince, and then smiled. Wiggling my fingers at her, I mouthed, see you later .
    Monika had been the receptionist longer than I'd been a patient. She was also Dr Freda's mother.
    Dr Freda was back behind her desk when I entered her office. I closed the door behind me and sat opposite her on the formal wooden chair. The light, airy room always relaxed me. The golden pine furniture was modern yet classy and uncluttered. I couldn't have designed it any better myself.
    "It's been a while, Amanda." The doctor smiled, her face softening. "I'm glad you called. Are you okay on the chair? Or would you prefer …?" She indicated the two leather sofas, exact replicas of the ones in reception.
    "No, I'm fine here thanks," I said, taking a deep breath. "I've been good actually, Doc. Until a few weeks ago, that is." I knew how fast the hour would fly by, so I wanted to get straight down to business.
    "What happened a few weeks ago?" Freda said, in her uninterested way. Her eyes were expressionless.
    "I felt sure someone was watching me all the time. Michael and I started fighting about it—he thinks I'm paranoid, like you do."
    She ignored my dig.
    "What happened around that time to cause these feelings?" Her elbows rested on the desk and her fingers were steepled under her chin.
    "Lots happened at around the same time. I caught Michael with another woman." I waited for her reaction—there wasn't one. "Oh, and Emma went missing at the zoo. The attendant saw a woman who looked like me leave with her. Once we found her, Emma said she'd followed me. Plus, somebody had put a seahorse brooch in Emma’s bag while she was gone—after we'd promised to buy her one."
    "Odd. So where were you when this occurred?" She glanced at me over the top of her frameless glasses.
    I recognised her expression. "Hold on a minute, Doc—don't start all that crap again. I didn't do it." I clenched and unclenched my teeth.
    "I didn't say anything, Amanda."
    "Yet!"
    Once again, she ignored my sarcastic comment.
    "What else happened?"
    "For weeks I felt as though I was being watched. I’d even begun questioning