“Need I remind you, Dr. Cates, that you are also alive? Therefore, you can call my office and schedule a time to talk to me.” I stood, hoping I was pulling off an image of control when inside I was shaking. “Make sure you leave your number with Randi.”

He stood as well, towering over me. “I don’t think you’re understanding me. I came to talk to you now, and that is what I’m going to do.”

My pulse started racing. I wasn’t exactly frightened. After all, Randi was right outside, and my cell phone sat on the table next to me. However, I did not like this man or his tone, and I was experiencing discomfort. No. Definitely more than that. Goosebumps prickled my flesh. I was frightened. But showing my fear would only give him what he wanted.

I picked up my cell, my knuckles white with tension, and stood. “You will make an appointment.”

He came toward me, closing in on my space. I sat back down in my chair.

Now my heart started thumping. “I’m going to have to ask you to back off,” I said.

“I did not come here to harm you. I am not a violent man. But I lost my daughter, Dr. Carmichael, and you will hear me out.”

Anxiety coursed through me. “Fine,” I relented. “You have ten minutes. After that, I have a patient who booked this time in advance. I will be happy to speak to you further, but we will have to decide on a time that is mutually agreeable.”

He sat down, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not losing it. Hopefully he could say what he wanted to say in ten minutes.

“All right.”

“Now, what was so important that you barged into my office and interrupted my session?”

He sighed. “I had to take my wife to the hospital today.”

“I’m very sorry. Is she ill?”

He shook his head. “No. At least not in the way you mean. I had to admit her to the mental wing here at Valleycrest.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“What did you expect? The woman lost her child. She hasn’t been able to cope. We’ve tried therapy. We’ve tried medication. First the psychiatrist thought she had situational depression and that it would run its course. That she was grieving. Well, of course she was grieving, but it didn’t get any better.”

“Again, I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Anyway, yesterday morning, I got out of bed to get myself off to work. She hasn’t been getting out of bed until noon, not since Gina died. So I didn’t think anything of it. But then I came home for lunch, and she wasn’t there. The car was there, but no sign of her. I found her still in bed, nearly catatonic.”

“I’m sorry.”

“All she would say was ‘Dr. Car, Dr. Car.’ I assumed she was trying to say Carmichael, and that she wanted to see you, so I packed her up and drove here. We stayed at a hotel last night. Then, this morning, I woke up, and she wasn’t in bed next to me. I found her in the bathroom. She was cutting herself.”

I sucked in a breath. “Cutting can be a normal reaction when one is in a lot of emotional pain. It’s good that you took her to the hospital. She’ll get the help she needs.”

“You don’t understand, Dr. Carmichael. She wasn’t just cutting herself to alleviate emotional pain. She was slitting her wrists.”

Chapter Eleven

Jonah

Walking alone at night. Again.

My ribs were still a little sore from my last encounter, but here I was again. Nights were growing cooler now that autumn was turning, and not as many vagrants were out in the dark alleyways. So I headed to the main street. I continued walking until I came to a bar. I walked in and sat down.

The barkeep sidled up to me. “What’ll it be?”

“A CapRock martini.”

“What the hell is a CapRock martini?”

“A martini made with CapRock gin.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s organic gin, made here in Colorado.”

The barkeep let out a guffaw. “Organic? You gotta be kidding me. We’ve got our basic well stuff. And no vermouth. I can give you well gin in a martini glass.” He smiled. He was missing one of his cuspids.

“Sure. What the hell?”

The old guy a couple seats away was eyeing me.

I turned to him. “You got a problem?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Nope, no problems. You just look a little familiar to me.” He stood and closed the gap between us, sitting on the stool next to me. He held out his hand. “Name is Mike.”

“Jonah Steel.”

“Met another Steel in here a while back. Funny name, too.”

Funny name… “Talon Steel?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Guy was dressed a lot like you, expensive boots and all.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Nice guy. Had a big chip on his shoulder. Something was eating him but good.”

The geezer had no idea.

“Good man, though. He sent me a case of this great bourbon called Peach Street.”

This guy must be something else if Talon had sent him a case of his favorite whiskey. “If you’ve got a case of that at home, what are you doing in this dump?”

“Oh, this place gets to be home when you come in enough. You never know who you’ll meet in here. I come in about once a week and let Lucky over there pour me a glass of rotgut, and I watch the people coming in and out of this place. You’d be surprised who ducks through that door.”

“Someone like me, you mean?”

He nodded. “I haven’t seen boots like those in here since your brother. But believe it or not, we get a wide variety of different people in this little dive. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. I’ve been widowed now for a while.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here, let me buy you another drink.”

“I’d be obliged.” He signaled to Lucky. “I’ll have another.”

Lucky sent a drink sliding across the bar. Then he set my “martini” in front of me. “Take it slow,” he said. “Shit’s a little rough around the edges.”

I took a sip. Stung my throat. Smooth this was not.

“So if my brother sent you a case of Peach Street, you must have done something pretty amazing to earn it.”