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  As she rounded the final curve of the long driveway her heart was pounding with excitement at the possibility of entering private practice again. That bastard Straub had soured her joy in connecting with other damaged souls, but before him she had always had a gift for therapy, had been able to establish an instant rapport with most of her patients. Her own past suffering and emotional frailty had given her an empathy and insight that helped her to win their trust and get them talking openly and freely, which in turn helped them to eventually reach the source of their problems. In fact, thinking about it now she wondered why she had ever given it up for the fascinating but darker, more sordid world of forensic psychology, which in turn had led to a career as a police profiler. Which she had also given up, post Straub. She bit her lip, not wanting to think about just how much he had cost her.

  Of course, in recent years treatment of the mentally ill had come full circle, had switched back from seeking the cause of problems to simply treating the symptoms with drugs, wherewith the patient could be returned to at least a semi-functional state but never actually cured. Kate was not a psychiatrist and this approach was anathema to her, concentrating as she did on trauma-related problems that generally could be cured. Searching for the often hidden causes of emotional problems was what she had always done best, and she believed that for trauma afflicted patients at least the only way to real recovery was through self-exploration, which would eventually lead first to understanding, and then to acceptance. Which in turn would lead to healing.

  She parked in front of the sweeping entrance and slid out of the low-slung car before trotting up the worn granite steps; a trim, slender figure in her black woolen suit and white blouse, with the red scarf around her neck adding a spark of life to her dark outfit. This touch of color, allied to the shortness of the skirt, which revealed quite a lot of leg, saved her outfit from being too severe by imparting a touch of femininity. And although she only wore the faintest traces of make-up two orderlies exiting the building looked at her appreciatively as she passed, and followed her with their eyes into the building.

  Kate noticed their gazes but only on a superficial level; her mind was focused on the meeting ahead, and on trying to ignore the butterflies clamoring in her stomach. She went in through the wide-flung oaken doors and paused on the marble-flagged floor of the vestibule, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light inside. There was a long wooden counter to her left which ran the length of the high-ceilinged entrance hall, and behind this counter sat the neat figure of a young woman dressed in crisp nurse’s whites.

  Kate smiled and moved forward through the gloom, her heels echoing loudly on the old flagstones, ‘Good afternoon, I’m Kate Bennett.’

  The receptionist, a young and pretty blonde, smiled back, revealing annoyingly perfect white teeth, ‘Of course, Dr. Bennett; Dr. Jordan is expecting you. If you take a seat in the waiting room I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  Dr. Jordan? The name rang no immediate bells, was not on her mental list of the dignitaries of the psychiatric world, but she simply said, ‘Fine. But in fact it’s not Doctor, it’s just plain Ms. Bennett. Or better yet, Kate.’

  The receptionist hesitated, though her professional smile never faltered, and Kate said, with a smile, ‘I have a Ph.D., not a medical degree, and I hate Ph.D.’s who call themselves doctor. I despise that petty pretentiousness, don’t you?’

  The receptionist smiled back, with less professionalism and more warmth and replied, ‘Of course, Ms. Bennett. Please take a seat while I ring Dr. Jordan’s office.’ Her smile broadened, ‘Or perhaps I should say Mr. Jordan’s office?’

  ‘You bloody well better not if you want to keep your job!’ boomed a deep voice from behind Kate’s back, ‘I’m a psychiatrist, not one of these damned quack psychologists, and I earned my medical degree.’

  That voice was almost as familiar to her as her own, and with a warm glow of joy suddenly suffusing her Kate turned and smiled at her old friend and college mate before saying sweetly, ‘No, you didn’t, Trevor; you cheated on your finals, remember?’

  Chapter Three

  Trevor Jordan strode across the great, vaulted hallway with his long, gangly arms outstretched in welcome and a broad grin splitting his face. He was a tall, thin, red-haired man, slightly balding on top, with a lust for life and an unquenchable optimism that few could resist. In college he had been about as unlike the rest of his classmates as it was possible to be; loud, open and warmly human where most of his fellow students had been pallid, intense introverts. He was interested in people rather than subjects, and his humor and bright outlook on life had cheered and encouraged Kate through some difficult times even after their brief affair had ended. Or rather, after she had ended it and left him for another man, a minor betrayal for which he had never reproached her and which he had quickly forgiven; in hindsight it had soon become clear to him that they worked better as friends than as lovers.

  Now, looking at the genuine pleasure in his sparkling blue eyes and on his contentedly ugly, freckled face, Kate was glad she had come, though still astonished that the penniless student she had once dated now held perhaps the most coveted position in Irish psychiatric circles. But then so many of her contemporaries now held positions of authority; a sign of approaching middle age, no doubt, like the fact that most of her old girlfriends now had children.

  It was obvious from the expression on Trevor’s face that he was delighted to see her, and obvious too that if they had not been in full view of his staff -and if he had not been the Director of the Institute with a position to consider- he would have hugged her. Kate just had time to think this and extend a hand to shake his before she was scooped into his vast embrace and had all her breath emphatically hugged out of her body.

  I should have known! she thought, fighting to breathe, a little dazed but also amused. Trevor practically made a career out of doing the unexpected, and cared little for the opinion of anyone save his closest friends. Having thoroughly hugged her, he kissed her cheek and said softly in her ear, ‘Welcome home, Kitty-cat!’

  Kitty-cat! She had all but forgotten his private name for her, and it conjured up a host of happy memories, along with just a tinge of guilt. Although she had been home for some time now she had not yet hooked up with any of her old friends and seeing him now, and so unexpectedly, made her feel pleasantly nostalgic. And emotional. She felt the prickle of tears in her eyes at the warmth of his greeting and hugged him back fiercely, surprised by the depth of her emotions at this unwonted human contact. And with a start she realized again just how lonely she had become, and how starved of any real human contact since returning to her native city. She blinked away the nascent tears gathering in her eyes and covered her raw feelings by gasping, ‘Welcome home, my arse! I’ve been home for months! Now let me go before I suffocate, you big oaf!’

  He released her, still grinning, and over his shoulder Kate saw the beam on the receptionist’s face and the shine in her eyes as she looked at Jordan. It was always the same; ugly or not, women liked Trevor, and more often than not were attracted to him too. As indeed she had been, once upon a time. Until he got too close, became too demanding. Or, more accurately, until her own fears had made her flee in panic at the prospect of someone getting inside her carefully constructed defenses.

  He stepped back and looked her up and down before saying appreciatively, ‘You look incredible, Kate. A scruffy schoolgirl wearing too much eye make-up went to England, a beautiful woman returned. Their loss, our gain.’

  She couldn’t help smiling even as she protested, ‘I was not a scruffy schoolgirl! I was twenty-six when I left! And I’m hardly beautiful now. But thank you anyway.’

  His smile faded and a faint frown knitted his heavy, reddish eyebrows, ‘I hate to spring this on you but there’s someone here you have to meet. I didn’t plan it; he just turned up out of the blue. But since he’s here I think I have to introduce you to him. Reluctantly.’

  He turned away and Kate stood
still in confusion, ruefully thinking that life was always like that when Trevor was around; nothing was ever straightforward, and surprises lurked around every corner. Maybe it was this unpredictability that had made her leave him all those years ago; because of her disrupted childhood she had always prized peace and stability. But even as she thought this she knew that she was lying to herself; it was her fear of commitment that had made her run. In the end it always triumphed over her need to be loved.

  A man almost as tall as Trevor but heavier in build had just left the conference room and was walking slowly towards them, his features obscured by the dim light and many shadows of that vast, dark hallway.

  ‘Ms. Kate Bennett,’ said Trevor formally, his face and tone expressionless, as the stranger approached, his footsteps echoing on the stone flags, ‘This is...’

  ‘Michael Riordan,’ she finished for him as the man drew close enough to be recognised, ‘The Minister for Trade and Industry.’ She smiled and held out her hand, ‘A pleasure to meet you, Minister.’ Then she added, in a slightly mocking tone, ‘Or should I say, messiah? It’s not often one meets a miracle worker, the hope of an entire nation.’

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Ms Bennett. Call me Michael, please,’ replied the Minister in a well-modulated voice, ‘And I’m hardly a messiah, or a miracle worker. You have to allow for election exaggeration, as well as media hype. But I’m confident, now that the world-wide recession is ending, that Ireland’s economy will rise again too. I’d like to think that any recovery will be at least partly due to my efforts, but so long as the recovery occurs I don’t much care who gets the credit.’

  He took her hand and she felt a light thrill run up her arm at his touch, even as she was dismissing his words as being too pat to be genuine, as being too much like a media sound bite. Although in his late forties Riordan was still an attractive man; tall and well built with light brown hair and very pale blue eyes. Apart from his even-featured good looks -which his graying hair if anything intensified, lending him an air of distinction- he had an instantly appealing magnetism that she could feel as an almost physical pull drawing her towards him. He smiled warmly into her eyes and the light thrill spread until her whole body seemed to be covered with tiny goose bumps. And he said lightly, ‘Though I must admit I’m happy to have a beautiful woman consider me a miracle worker. Or to consider me at all.’

  He’s flirting with me, Kate thought in surprise, amused but a little flattered too, and aware of a certain attraction of her own towards him. In fact, she was more attracted to him than to any man since she first met Peter.

  Riordan finally let go of her hand but did not step back as he continued, ‘But in your case I’m doubly glad I have your approval, since I understand that Dr. Jordan has just hired you as a consultant in my daughter’s case.’

  ‘You understood wrong,’ interrupted Trevor shortly, before Kate could reply, ‘I told you I invited Kate today here in the hope of persuading her to conduct therapy sessions with Grainne, but I have not yet made her any formal offer.’

  He spoke coldly, for him, and with a start Kate realized that he did not like his patient’s father. Or perhaps he simply did not like being pre-empted like that. After all, he hadn’t yet had time to work his magic on her and convince her to work for him. Convince! If only he knew how desperate I am for a change in my life! ANY change.

  Riordan blinked and then smiled apologetically, ‘Pardon me, Kate...may I call you Kate? I misunderstood, but I hope that won’t cause you to refuse to treat Grainne. She desperately needs your help.’

  Before she could reply Trevor again interrupted, saying irritably, ‘I am Grainne’s psychiatrist, Mr. Riordan, and if you don’t mind I’d rather acquaint Kate with your daughter’s case history myself. And not in a hallway but in my office, where we have at least a modicum of privacy.’

  Once more addressing himself solely to Kate -and it might have been just a politician’s trick but when he looked at her with those pale eyes she suddenly felt as if she were the only person in the entire world- Riordan said gravely, ‘Of course. I apologize again. Please don’t let my precipitance offend you into refusing to treat my daughter. She means the world to me and it would break my heart to think that I had spoiled her best chance of becoming well again.’

  Kate warmed to him in spite of herself, in spite of an inward voice warning her that it was his job to appear sincere and caring, and she replied, ‘You can be sure you haven’t alienated me. But I’m afraid I’m no miracle worker either, and even if I agree to treat -er, Grainne?- there’s no guarantee of success.’

  He smiled again, ‘I understand.’ He might have spoken further but Trevor made an impatient noise and looked at his watch, whereupon Riordan stepped back, ‘I won’t intrude any longer, but I do hope to meet you again, Kate.’

  Before she could reply Trevor took her by the arm and ushered her across the hall to his book-lined, wood paneled office. Once inside she detached herself from his grip and said angrily, ‘For God’s sake, Trevor, let me go. I’m not a sheep and you’re not a bloody sheepdog!’

  He looked startled for a moment before smiling sheepishly and releasing her. Putting his hands in his trouser pockets he said, ‘Sorry about that, Kitty, but that man just rubs me up the wrong way. He’s constantly in my ear, looking for progress reports and details of each phase of Grainne’s treatment. He was grilling me again today about her progress, or lack of it, which is the only reason I mentioned that I was trying to hire you as a therapist. Besides, he shouldn’t have butted in like that before I’d made my pitch and convinced you to work with me.’

  Kate’s fleeting irritation had passed and now she smiled and said, ‘Well, you didn’t have to be so rude to him. Or are you so secure here that you can afford to insult government Ministers?’

  He grinned imperturbably, ‘Well, yes, I am, actually! And I don’t like or trust politicians, you know that. I never did. Especially handsome, would-be miracle workers. Remember old Archie’s lecture on the “Pursuit of Power”?’

  Kate smiled at the recollection and said, ‘Of course I remember! How could I forget?’ Her voice deepened to a pompous bass, ‘The desire for power should disqualify from power.’ She laughed and continued in her normal; voice, ‘Poor old Professor Archibald, mad as a hatter and twice as paranoid! And he was supposed to be a psychiatrist! Talk about the blind leading the blind.’

  Trevor laughed with her, ‘Sure the reason he gave up private practice in the first place was that he was more disturbed than most of his patients, and never cured any of them! So what did they do? Made him a lecturer, of course!’ He seated himself behind his huge, leather-topped desk and waved her toward a chair, shaking his head in amusement as he said, ‘Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.’

  He recollected Kate’s current position and coughed to cover his embarrassment before saying hurriedly, ‘Er, I wasn’t including you in that…’

  Dimples appeared on Kate’s face, taking years off her age, as she smiled to herself in secret amusement; in spite of the passage of years he was still the same awkward, often annoying, yet strangely endearing Trevor. She made a dismissive gesture and said, ‘Obviously you weren’t including me in that bracket, or you wouldn’t have invited me out here today, would you?’

  ‘Er, no, I suppose not. Sit down, please. Would you like some coffee?’

  Kate shook her head as she sat down, ‘Not right now, thanks.’ She smiled again, warmly, ‘You’re still the bossiest, most irritating man in the world, Trev, and I’m so glad to see you again.’

  He smiled, ‘The same words could be applied to you, my dear. Well, not the man part, obvi…’ Before he could continue a faint sound caught both their attention and he froze. Muffled and distant though it was, the sound was undoubtedly that of a woman screaming.

  ‘Excuse me a minute,’ said Trevor expressionlessly, picking up his phone. He spoke briefly into the receiver before getting to his feet and heading for the door, his face inscrutable, �
�I won’t be long, I just have to attend to something.’ He opened the door but then paused to say, ‘It’s your new, or should I say, prospective patient. She seems to be having an…episode.’

  And with that he was gone, but through the open door Kate could more clearly than ever hear the desperate, terror-filled

  cries of Grainne Riordan.

  Chapter Four

  Trevor returned within a few minutes, his customary smile back on his face, though a touch dimmer than usual. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said with a return to something of his usual breezy manner as he sat back down behind his desk, ‘We’ve been decreasing Grainne’s medication over the past couple of weeks and I think we went too far. Something upset her and she lost control but we’ve given her a sedative and now she’s resting calmly.’

  ‘Did she say what upset her?’

  He shook his head, ‘According to the duty nurse she was just sitting there quietly one minute, and screaming her head off the next. All the sitting-rooms have cameras in them, by the way, and there’s a monitoring station on each floor that’s manned all day.’ He shrugged, ‘Grainne spends most of her time lost in her own fantasy world anyway, so who knows what horrors she imagined?’