It’s a good thing because I have a jam-packed schedule today. This isn’t even my usual day to be here, and I’m seeing patients till nearly seven o’clock at night. I’ve been gone for over a month, on a tour to promote The Anatomy of Fear, which recently hit number eight on the New York Times bestseller list. Nobody knows that the account of the woman who survived a stabbing in an isolated cabin is entirely a lie.

It’s been nearly four months since EJ, also known as Edward Jamison, left my life. Or rather, I should say he became a permanent part of my life. I peeled the duct tape off the floor later that day, destroyed his phone, and moved the couch back in place, but over the next several days, the stench coming from the floor became unbearable. I had to close off the room and cancel all my patients. I didn’t go into my office for two months.

If I even got close to the door to my former office, the smell was enough to turn my stomach. But then when I returned home from my book tour, I was relieved to find that the smell had abated significantly, although it was still very much present.

I finally went online and purchased a spray that was advertised to “chemically neutralize odors from dead bodies.” I opened all the windows, aggressively spritzed the neutralizing chemical, and to my surprise and immense relief, it worked—the odor disappeared. You would never know there was a dead body down there.

I had assumed that at some point the police would come by, asking questions about his disappearance. I even had a story ready. There were moments during my tour when I was signing books and I was certain the police would approach me with handcuffs and haul me away. But it never happened. Nobody even asked me any questions about him. And now, four months later, I’m starting to believe they might never come. After all, there was no cash trail for EJ’s visits to my practice. The only person besides him who knew that he came to see me was his mother, and she’s gone.

I got away with it. I killed a man, he’s lying under the floorboards in my home, and nobody knows it but me. Well, Patricia likely knows I killed him but she doesn’t know where the body is.