“Honestly,” she said, “the only reason I agreed to talk to you was Dad and Mom were bugging me to do it, saying they were finally getting something from their tax dollars. I try to do what they ask if it’s only a small hassle. No offense.”

“Picking your battles.”

“That way I can do what I want when it’s important.”

“Sounds like a good strategy.” Same one I’d used throughout my childhood. Up to the day I turned sixteen and bought an old car and began my escape from Missouri.

She said, “You think it’s okay to play them like that?”

“You’re not playing them, you’re being selective.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I should just be honest—this is who I am, deal.”

“One day you may be able to do that.”

“That’s kind of scary,” she said.

“One day it may not be.”

A creak came from up the hall. The door to Howard Goldfeder’s study opened and he stuck his head out.

Heather said, “I’m fine, Daddy.”

“Just checking.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He didn’t budge.

“Daddy.”

He went back inside but the door remained ajar. Heather trotted over, pushed it shut, returned. “Do me a favor, Dr. Delaware. Before you leave tell him I look normal. So he doesn’t think I need some Beverly Hills shrink.”

“Will do,” I said.

“You don’t think I need that, right?”

“You’re the best judge of that.”

“Are you saying I’m screwed up but you don’t want to piss me off?”

“Everything you’ve told me says you’re reacting normally. The fact that you’re already in therapy says you know how to take care of yourself.”

“What about my running?”

“Sounds like you like to run. So do I.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you eat normally?”

“Yes.”

“Do you binge and gag yourself in secret?”

“No.”

“In general, do you think life’s going okay?”

“Yes.”

I shrugged.

She said, “Are you like … super-supportive to everyone?”

“I don’t read minds, Heather, so all I can go on is what you tell me and what I observe about you. If there’s some secret problem you’re not telling me about, I could be missing something. But so far you’re not setting off any alarms.”

“Okay … do you like talk directly to the police?”

“Not about what patients tell me—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she said. “I’m talking about crimes. Like if someone tells you something and wants you to tell the cops, what do you do, just get on the phone?”

“You bet.”

“And then the police come to see that person?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “But the police can’t force anyone to talk to them. Even a suspect.”

“Like on TV. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Exactly.”