“Are you certain?”

“Well, of course the human mind is complex, isn’t it?”

“Is that how you cover your ass?”

He ignores my comment. “There can be unforeseen triggers.”

“Like?”

“Like a similar event happening to her or someone she knows. A news story. Stress. It can be any number of things. Like I said, the mind is complex,” he reiterates.

“Do you have more video footage?” Bruno asks.

Tilbury hesitates, then looks at Bruno. “I record all my sessions. So I can learn from them of course.”

“I’m sure. Who has seen these?” I ask.

He looks at me, then at Bruno.

“Who have you shown these to?”

“A few prospective clients like you.”

“You fucking advertised using a fourteen-year-old girl’s trauma?”

“I… it wasn’t…”

I stalk across the room and swipe my arm across the desk, knocking his laptop and everything else to the floor. “You fucking used a fourteen-year-old girl’s trauma to fucking promote yourself?”

He succeeds in pushing that button to call security as I lean over to grab him by the collar and drag him to his feet then over the desk. I get one good hit on his over-Botoxed face before two hulking men drag me off.

“I want all the recordings of Vittoria Russo,” I tell him as I try to free myself from them while they hold tight, searching me and taking my pistol before dragging me toward the door.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Tilbury says, straightening and adjusting his hair, which has shifted unnaturally.

“Get the fuck off me before I fucking kill you,” I tell the guards. I imagine what they’d have done to someone Vittoria’s size, and it makes me so fucking angry I can barely think.

Bruno stands, cool and collected as always as I throw the two behemoths off. “Dr. Tilbury,” he starts, opening his briefcase. He retrieves a folder, then closes the case. “We will need those files,” he says as he starts to lay out photos of the good doctor with the first of his young patients.

Tilbury swallows as Bruno sets another photo next to the first.

“Get out!” Tilbury yells to his goons. “Get out! Now!” They look confused, and I grab my gun.

“Get the fuck out,” I tell them, and they take a look at what’s on the desk and file out.

Bruno sets another photo down.

“Did you touch Vittoria?” I ask as I stalk toward him. He scurries behind his desk as if that will save him.

He shakes his head as I come around, take him by the collar, and slam him against the wall. “Did you fucking touch Vittoria Russo?”

“No! Not the girls. I… Not the girls.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to stop touching the boys too.”