"No." Reproachful.
He had touched on alcoholism, frigidity, a pregnancy she was afraid to face - everything he could think of. And each time she had looked at him with her thoughtful, intelligent eyes and had merely shaken her head. Whenever he tried to pin her down, she would head him off with, "Please be patient with me. Let me do it my own way."
With anyone else, he might have given up. But he knew that he had to help her. And he had to keep seeing her.
He had let her talk about any subject she chose. She had traveled to a dozen countries with her father and had met fascinating people. She had a quick mind and an unexpected humor. He found that they liked the same books, the same music, the same playwrights. She was warm and friendly, but Judd could never detect the slightest sign that she reacted to him as anything other than a doctor. It was bitter irony. He had been subconsciously searching for someone like Anne for years, and now that she had walked into his life, his job was to help her solve whatever her problem was and send her back to her husband.
Now, as Anne walked into the office, Judd moved to the chair next to the couch and waited for her to lie down.
"Not today," she said quietly. "I just came to see if I could help."
He stared at her, speechless for a moment. His emotions had been stretched so tight in the past two days that her unexpected sympathy unnerved him. As he looked at her, he had a wild impulse to pour out everything that was happening to him. To tell her about the nightmare that was engulfing him, about McGreavy and his idiotic suspicions. But he knew he could not. He was the doctor and she was his patient. Worse than that. He was in love with her, and she was the untouchable wife of a man he did not even know.
She was standing there, watching him. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"I liked Carol so much," said Anne. "Why would anyone kill her?"
"I don't know," said Judd.
"Don't the police have any idea who did it?"
Do they! Judd thought bitterly. If she only knew.
Anne was looking at him curiously.
"The police have some theories," Judd said.
"I know how terrible you must feel. I just wanted to come and tell you how very sorry I am. I wasn't even sure you'd be in the office today."
"I wasn't going to come in," Judd said. "But - well, here I am. As long as we're both here, why don't we talk a little about you?"
Anne hesitated. "I'm not sure that there's anything to talk about any more."
Judd felt his heart jump. Please, God, don't let her say that I'm not going to see her any more.
"I'm going to Europe with my husband next week."
"That's wonderful," he made himself say.
"I'm afraid I've wasted your time, Dr. Stevens, and I apologize."
"Please don't," Judd said. He found that his voice was husky. She was walking out on him. But of. course she couldn't know that. He was being infantile. His mind told him this clinically while his stomach ached with the physical hurt of her going away. Forever.
She opened her purse and took out some money. She was in the habit of paying in cash after each visit, unlike his other patients, who sent him checks.
"No," said Judd quickly. "You came here as a friend. I'm - grateful."
Judd did something he had never done before with a patient. "I would like you to come back once more," he said.
She looked up at him quietly. "Why?"
Because I can't bear to let you go so soon, he thought. Because I'll never meet anyone like you again. Because I wish I had met you first. Because I love you. Aloud he said, "I thought we might - round things out. Talk a little to make sure that you really are over your problem."
She smiled mischievously. "You mean you want me to come back for my graduation?"
"Something like that," he said. "Will you do it?"
"If you want me to - of course." She rose. "I haven't given you a chance with me. But I know you're a wonderful doctor. If I should ever need help, I'd come to you."
She held out her hand and he took it. She had a warm, firm handclasp. He felt again that compelling current that ran between them and marveled that she felt nothing.
"I'll see you Friday," she said.
"Friday."
He watched her walk out the private door leading to the corridor, then sank into a chair. He had never felt so completely alone in his life. But he couldn't sit here and do nothing. There had to be an answer, and if McGreavy wasn't going to find it, he had to discover it before McGreavy destroyed him. On the dark side, Lieutenant McGreavy suspected him of two murders that he couldn't prove he did not commit. He might be arrested at any moment, which would mean that his professional life would be destroyed. He was in love with a married woman he would only see once more. He forced himself to turn to the bright side. He couldn't think of a single bloody thing.
Chapter Five
THE REST OF THE DAY went by as though he were under water. A few of the patients made reference to Carol's murder, but the more disturbed ones were so self-absorbed that they could think only of themselves and their problems. Judd tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept drifting away, trying to find answers to what had happened. He would go over the tapes later to pick up what he had missed.
At seven o'clock, when Judd had ushered out the last patient, he went over to the recessed liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff scotch. It hit him with a jolt, and he suddenly remembered that he had not had any breakfast or lunch. The thought of food made him ill. He sank into a chair and thought about the two murders. There was nothing in the case histories of any of his patients that would cause someone to commit murder. A blackmailer might have tried to steal them. But blackmailers were cowards, preying on the weaknesses of others, and if Carol had caught one breaking in and he had killed her, it would have been done quickly, with a single blow. He would not have tortured her. There had to be some other explanation.