I settle down in the chair and it creaks threateningly under my weight. Is this where Dr. Hale wrote her bestselling pop psychology book, The Anatomy of Fear? For a while, it seemed like everybody in the country had read that book. It was the It Book. And she never got to enjoy it because soon after it was released, she vanished into thin air.

I study the contents of the desk. She’s got a pencil holder in the shape of a human brain, loaded up with ballpoint pens. Her keyboard is one of those ergonomic ones, curved so that her hands could lie at a more natural position. And there’s another object on the desk that gets my attention.

It’s a tape recorder.

I haven’t seen a tape recorder in many years. I vaguely remember my parents having one when I was a little girl, but that’s it. It’s an outdated piece of technology. I blow the dust off the recorder and pick it up, curious to see what Dr. Hale had been listening to before her disappearance.

But it’s empty. Of course, the police would have taken whatever tape was inside as evidence.

“Tricia! Sandwiches are ready!”

Ethan’s voice floats down the hallway into the office. I lower the tape recorder back onto the desk and leave the office to join him.

Chapter 6

ADRIENNE

Before

It is extremely rare for mental health workers to be killed by patients.

It happens about once a year in this country. In most instances, the victims have been young female caseworkers. The homicides most frequently occurred while the victims were visiting residential treatment facilities. And the most likely perpetrators were males with schizophrenia.

The majority of victims were killed by gunshot wounds.

Not that a psychiatrist who rarely sees inpatients is immune from such an attack. At any moment during a session, my patients could stand up, grab the letter opener off my desk, and jam it through my eye socket. But my risk is relatively low. Even though I see patients in my home, which people tell me is a mistake, I feel safe.

Also, I don’t actually keep a letter opener on my desk. That would be tempting fate.

And I take one other precaution. Every single patient I accept for treatment is vetted by me personally. I refuse to accept any patients with whom I do not feel comfortable.

With one exception. But that will resolve itself soon enough.

Right now, my mind isn’t on my patients as I sit at my computer, replying to messages via email. I’m currently composing a reply to a message I received yesterday from my former agent Paige.

Dear Adrienne,