Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hannah! Thank God you’re all right.” Dr. Andrew Chandler practically flew through the doorway and drew up short next to Hannah’s desk.
She tapped the button to save her notes from the previous session, then flicked a glance at him over her computer. “Hello, Andrew.”
From the doorway, Fiona propped a hand on her hip and let out an aggravated huff. “Dr. Whitmore, your three o’clock is here. I tried to tell Dr. Chandler that you were busy, but—”
Andrew spoke over her, waving a hand dismissively at Fiona. “Please excuse us for a moment.”
Pink bloomed over Fiona’s dark brown cheeks, prompting Hannah to intervene. Swiveling her chair toward them, she stood. “Give us two minutes and then please send Mr. Pruitt in. Thank you, Fiona.”
She turned back to her friend with a frown. “You’re interfering with my business,” she chastised. “It’s nice of you to stop in, but I do have another session starting”—she checked her watch—“three minutes ago.”
Andrew heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw you on the news last night, you know.”
“Poor girl,” Hannah said, barely repressing a shudder. “It was just brutal.”
His brow furrowed. “How did you get involved?”
Hannah actively avoided his gaze. “After he killed her, he… called me from her phone.”
“He called you?” His voice was sharp, and her eyes flicked to his. “Good God, why?”
“You know how it is, Andrew. Killers occasionally reach out. They either want to be stopped or they want to be recognized, taunting the authorities for not being able to catch them.” She shrugged. “I told the police everything I know, but it’s up to them to decide how to proceed.”
His gaze turned speculative. “Did he say anything specific?”
Hannah froze, remembering the way the man had called her by name—her real name.
“Nothing of significance,” she lied. “I’m not entirely certain why he would call me specifically. Monique wasn’t a patient of mine, and I can’t recall ever meeting her.”
“And what about the killer?” he pressed. “Is it possible it’s someone you know?”
“Of course it’s a possibility, but the likelihood of that is slim. The only person with whom I’ve had an issue recently is Mr. Iverson—the man I referred to you.”
“I never did hear anything from him. What if it’s him?”
Hannah thought about the way they’d parted after his last appointment.
Steve had been furious, but would he have killed a woman out of spite?
“I don’t know, Andrew. I just don’t think it fits.
That’s awfully fast to find and kill a victim, unless he either knew Monique or happened, by some miracle, to meet her that very same day or insinuate himself in her house. ”
“But—”
Hannah waved away his concern. “I’m sure the police are looking into all the different leads. Something will turn up eventually.”
She truly hoped he would get the hint and drop it.
The whole situation made her uneasy, and she was sick to death of talking about it.
She’d never met Monique, and according to the police, the woman didn’t appear to have any enemies.
It really made no sense, but then, murder was often emotional and messy, lacking any rational thought.
His eyes bored into hers, and she once again glanced away, pretending to absorb herself in her files. “You know, the offer to join practices still stands.”
Air rushed from her lungs on a soft sigh. “We’ve talked about this.”
He held up a hand. “Just think about it. Have dinner with me.”
“Andrew…”
“Okay, we don’t have to go out. I’ll stop over later and bring some takeout. Italian?” Before she could respond, he was already striding toward the door. “See you at seven.”
Hannah flopped back in her chair, rubbing her temples in a calming circular motion.
He meant well, but sometimes Andrew could be so…
overwhelming. He’d been a good friend during the past two years since they’d met, but the way he looked at her sometimes hinted that he was interested in far more than just friendship or a business partnership.
Fiona appeared in the doorway, a grim frown on her face, and Hannah knew she’d have to make up for Andrew’s rudeness. Short and stocky, Mr. Pruitt followed just behind, looking very uncomfortable for his first session.
Smoothing out her facial expression, Hannah greeted him with a serene smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Pruitt. Please, make yourself at home.”
With a grateful look at Fiona, Hannah settled into a plush armchair. Turning her mind away from the murder, away from Andrew and her disgruntled receptionist, she focused on Mr. Pruitt and spent the next hour delving into his concerns over his sexuality.
After Mr. Pruitt left, Hannah drummed her fingers on the desk, considering Andrew’s words.
Maybe he was right. She’d been on edge the last couple of days since the murder, and a little extra security would go a long way to making her feel safer, at least at work.
Her community was gated, so she didn’t worry too much about someone gaining access to her house. Here, though, she felt exposed.
Picking up the phone, she dialed the building manager’s number.
“Ramirez.”
“Hi, Raúl, it’s Dr. Whitmore. How are you?”
“Just fine, Doctor, how about you?”
“Great, thanks.” Formalities out of the way, she dove right in. “Raúl, you may have heard about my recent involvement in a woman’s murder.”
“I sure did. Sorry to hear about that. Is there something I can help with?”
“Actually”—she rubbed her damp palm briskly on the material of her dress slacks—“I was wondering what kind of security this building has.”
“Well, now.” His voice was tentative and a bit defensive. “We don’t usually have too much trouble here. We just call the police if anything happens. Why do you ask?”
She sighed. “I’ve had a little trouble with an ex-patient of mine, and I was just wondering if there’s any chance we could get some extra security around here for a while.
I’d feel safer if someone was here in case anything happened.
I don’t want to jeopardize my staff or my patients.
Just until things blow over,” she added.
“I suppose I can ask, Doctor. Don’t know what the owner will say, though. Security can get awful expensive.”
Her hackles rose at his dismissive tone.
She wasn’t above playing hardball. “Well, Mr. Ramirez, many medical facilities have full-time security guards. I’m sure the owner wouldn’t want anything to happen in his building.
I’m certain he values the safety of the people here and will justify the cost. It would be just awful if something were to happen to affect business, and I imagine he’d rather be proactive since the safety of his building and the people here is paramount… ”
She trailed off, allowing him to draw any conclusion he liked.
She really had no other avenues to pursue if he turned her down, but Raúl didn’t need to know that.
In truth, nothing bad had ever really happened here that she knew of, and she was asking quite a lot for the owner to provide additional security for what may possibly have been a fluke.
“Of course.” The building manager’s voice was stiff. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Raúl. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, miss. I’ll be in touch.”
Hannah hung up with a grim smile. She wasn’t completely confident that Raúl had taken her seriously or that the owner would even consider her request without laughing at her, but she had to try.
Ten years ago, a man had stolen her confidence and security. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen again.