“We agreed on January, provided he behaves himself. You should tell him about it.”

“I’ve tried.” She watches as Mick strides past the flight of stairs directly below them. “He no longer trusts me.”

Foletta pats her on the back. “Get over it.”

“I’m not doing him any good. Maybe he needs someone with more experience.”

“Nonsense. I’ll instruct his orderlies that he’s no longer permitted to leave his room unless he actively participates in his therapy sessions.”

“Forcing him to talk won’t help.”

“This isn’t a country club, Intern. We have rules. If a resident refuses to cooperate, he forfeits his privileges. I’ve seen cases like this before. If you don’t act now, Mick will crawl inside his own head, and you’ll lose him forever.”

Foletta signals to an orderly. “Joseph, escort Mr.Gabriel out of the rain. We can’t have our residents getting sick on us.”

“No, wait, he’s my patient, I’ll get him.” Dominique pulls her hair into a tight bun, removes her shoes, then descends the two flights of stairs to the yard. She is drenched by the time she catches up with Mick.

“Hey, stranger, mind if I join you?”

He ignores her.

Dominique keeps pace, the rain pelting her face. “Come on, Mick, talk to me. I’ve been apologizing all week. What did you expect me to do? I had to sign off on Foletta’s report.”

She gets a hard look.

The rain comes down heavier, forcing her to shout. “Mick, slow down.”

He continues walking.

She dashes ahead of him, then takes a fighting stance, fists up, blocking his way. “Okay, buddy, don’t force me to kick your ass.”

Mick stops. He looks up, the rain streaming down his angular face. “You let me down.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, dropping her fists. “Why did you lie to me about the guard attacking you?”

A pained expression. “So truth is no longer to be judged by your heart, but by your ambition, is that it? I thought we were friends.”

She feels a lump growing in her throat. “I want to be your friend, but I’m also your psychiatrist. I did what I thought was best.”

“Dominique, I gave you my word that I’d never lie to you.” He lifts his head, pointing to the three-inch scar along his jawline. “Before Griggs tried to rape me, he threatened to cut my throat.”

Goddam you, Foletta. “Mick, Jesus, I’m sorry. At our last meeting, when you flipped out on me—”

“My fault. I got excited. I’ve been locked up for so long—sometimes, well sometimes it’s just hard to stay calm. I don’t socialize well, but I swear, I never would have hurt you.”

She sees tears in his eyes. “I believe you.”