Chapter Two
Hamish
Mornings were truly my favorite time of day—the quiet before the inevitable storm. Especially when the sun rose, painting the sky with pinks, purples, and sometimes even a fire-sky red.
My condo sat on the northeast corner of my building with a stunning view of the city to the east and the North Shore Mountains to the north—especially with the dawn.
Okay…except I loved sunsets as well. I’d have to go out to my balcony to look west, but often the sky painted the trees and mountains across the water with a beautiful pink-orange color that defied description.
Or at least, I never found the words to do the tableau justice.
This winter morning, however, with the outside shrouded in darkness, I huddled inside at my kitchen table. Morning wouldn’t come until well after seven, and I needed to be on the road by then.
My laptop sat open, and I perused all the news sites as I ate my raisin oatmeal breakfast.
As the lead psychologist at Johnson Employee Assistance Program, I faced a tough day ahead.
Yesterday, my company had been contacted by one of our bigger clients—a movie studio in North Vancouver.
Because of an on-set shooting no less. We specialized in dealing with trauma after workplace violence, so my bosses, Smith and Alessandra, mobilized us, and we got the lay of the land yesterday and were meeting with cast and crew from Vigilante Justice this morning.
I checked the Vancouver news website—to ensure I knew everything that was in the public sphere. That knowledge would support the report Alessandra sent me last night.
I rose, put my dishes in the dishwasher, and packed my messenger bag. I put on my winter coat, and after ensuring the condo was perfect—I might’ve been a little anal about such things—I headed down to my car.
The drive was short, and when I pulled up to the studio gate, a guard scrutinized my driver’s license and then handed me a visitor badge.
“Sorry, can’t be too careful.” She eyed me.
“I understand. I have a teammate arriving—”
“She the one with the dog?”
“Uh, yes.”
The woman pointed to her clipboard. “Already on the list. Park over there”—she gestured—“and someone will be out shortly.”
When I pulled my car beside Marianne’s, she lowered the back windows so Ollie could glance out. He woofed his obvious joy. He would calm down once Marianne attached the vest, but for now he was just a goofy Labrador.
In deference to the cold, we rolled our windows back up. I barely had time to check my phone before two men appeared from the building and waved to us.
A study in contrasts, each man struck me differently. The tall gentleman wore a tailored suit with pleated wool pants. He hit well over six feet tall, had blond hair, and blue eyes? I couldn’t tell from this distance.
The shorter man had a mop of red hair, wore jeans and a Henley—both in black—and had a tentative smile. A contrast to the other man whose smile was measured but also of a higher intensity. Although I was closer in age to the taller man, I favored the coloring of the younger—what with the red hair.
My crew, including Ian, Hala, and Marianne, all exited our cars. Marianne took a moment to attach Ollie’s leash.
The younger man—the redhead with vivid green eyes—crouched down and held out his hand. The older man cleared his throat. Before the younger man could rise, though, Marianne gave Ollie his command, and he headed straight for the now-wary guy.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Puts him in the right headspace if he can get to work right away.”
“Oh, I don’t…” Even as the words spoken by the young guy trailed off, Ollie nuzzled him.
“Yeah, you do.” The blond guy with, yes, blue eyes said the words quietly. “I’m Valentino Langston—the executive producer of VJ. You can call me Val.”
The redhead snorted.
Val cleared his throat. “And this—” He sighed dramatically. “—is my husband, Seamus.” A serious expression crossed his face. “He was on set yesterday.”
Ah.
Marianne crouched, putting herself just behind Ollie. “He’s still new at the job. You’ll have to go easy on him.”
Seamus winced. “I’m really okay.”
He’s anything but.
Hala shivered. Probably from the wind that swept down from the north.
“Right, let’s head inside.” Val pointed toward the enormous building.
Seamus rose, clearly reluctant.
“You can spend as much time as you like with him,” Marianne assured him.
“There are others—”
She waved him off. “Ollie’s good to go for the whole day. He never runs out of energy, although he leashes it when necessary.”
Ollie glanced up at her as if to say challenge accepted. I’d worked with quite a few comfort dogs over the years, but Ollie truly topped the greats. He planted himself between Marianne and Seamus as we all entered the building.
Just before I stepped inside, I eyed the lightening sky to the east, offered up a little request for help, and followed into the space.
Val led us down a corridor until we eventually reached a door. He hesitated. “We have a few people here. The rest are coming in a couple of hours—we didn’t want to overwhelm you or them.”
“No problem.” I’d done this more than a dozen times over the years, and it never got easier. The people just beyond this door would’ve endured many levels of trauma yesterday. We could offer guidance, but we couldn’t fix whatever effects lingered in just one session.
After opening the door, Val stepped inside with the rest of us following. Ian and I brought up the rear, ensuring Marianne and Ollie were visible first.
A group of people clustered around a table with coffee and pastries while another set huddled in a group of chairs.
I surveyed the room, trying to take in as much as I could.
My gaze stuttered on Julie Reyes—distinctive with her long, white-blonde hair. She stood close to a South Asian actress I recognized… Ah, Lindy Doshi.
I spotted Elouise Hynes, another actress on the show. I was familiar with her work as I’d seen a movie she starred in just after Christmas.
The woman standing next to Elouise, with the purple-and-blue dyed hair, was her girlfriend, Kelci.
My gaze shot back to Julie and Lindy. Lindy towered over petite Julie and likely stood just a few inches or so shorter than myself. Her protective stance with Julie indicated a strong level of familiarity.
Val stepped into the space between the two clusters of people, and everyone hushed.
Impressive. Sometimes hierarchical structures could be detrimental, but the evident admiration this group had for Val spoke to his ability to lead.
Or they were all terrified of him—but I didn’t get that vibe.
“I asked you to come in today so you could meet with some of the trauma counselors from our employee assistance program.” He waved to our team, but his gaze honed in on me.
I stepped farther into the room. “My name is Hamish McAllister. I’m the team leader for Johnson Employee Assistance Program. We call it JEAP for short.” I indicated my team. “Marianne and her trusty companion, Ollie.” Ollie, who sat at attention, waved his paw.
That brought a few smiles and titters from the crowd.
“As well as Hala and Ian.”
They waved.
A few people waved back.
“We’ve done this before, unfortunately, but we don’t have all the answers. We’re here to listen, to offer support, and to help match you to a counselor for more in-depth help if you need it. No judgment here.”
Val raised his hand. “All counseling costs are covered by the studio, so you don’t have to worry about money. Whatever you need, for however long you need. And if that means taking time off from work, we’ll figure something out.” He glanced at me. “Perhaps we can get someone here full-time?”
We hadn’t talked about it, but I was positive my boss could arrange that. “Yes, I believe so.”
He winced a little, likely realizing he’d put me on the spot.
I offered a reassuring smile. I’d make time in my own schedule if that’s what it took.
“Do we do this in private or as a group?” Julie looked at me. “Because I suppose I should go first.”
Bravery. No two ways about it. And likely trying to set the tone for the rest of the group—letting them know that talking to us was not a sign of weakness but of strength. “Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”
“I’m happy to talk to you.” Julie offered a small smile as she pointed to Marianne and Ollie.
Elouise held up her hand. “Me too. Can Kelci come?”
Hala grinned. “Of course. I’m happy to speak to you both.”
Another guy raised his hand. “I…uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t on set, but I was friends with…” He ran his hand through his hair. “And I can’t believe…” He blinked several times.
“Well, happy to chat about it.” Ian offered a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes these are predictable events, and sometimes they come out of nowhere.”
I was sorting through everyone else in my mind when motion from behind me caught my attention.
Donovan himself stepped forward. “I suppose I should go next.” He pointed to the man standing next to him. “This is Detective Tyson McGillvary of the VPD. He wants to talk to me as well. Let’s do a twofer so I can get this over with as soon as possible.”
I eyed the police officer. His brown eyes flicked over me. I couldn’t figure out what he thought about this, but I needed to speak to Donovan. “That’s fine. Where would you like to go?”
“You can go to the production office.” Val smiled—although a little tentatively.
“Yeah, that works.” Donovan nodded to the man, then gestured that the police officer and I follow him.
This was not how I expected to begin my first session today, but I was willing to roll with it. I followed him into a small room, doing my best to ascertain what was going on in his mind. As things stood, I couldn’t find a reason to try to put a halt to things.
Recognizing Donovan had been easy enough—the man’s quiet beauty spoke to me. Dark skin, piercing brown eyes, and a hesitancy that I wouldn’t have anticipated.
Of course, getting shot might do that to a man.
Or perhaps he was always guarded and careful around strangers.