‘Quite. Whether you are or are not in some kind of a relationship with a former witness or defendant is inconsequential, really. It is not affecting your outlook. Though I will not be so candid in my report.’ He nods as if they have some agreement.

‘And this report, I guess I never get to see what you write in that? So you could be stringing me along, right? So I say something stupid in this session.’

‘Is there something stupid that you have been holding back on?’

For a moment, Artaud slips back into his role as Pace’s therapist.

‘No. I’m just checking.’

‘I will send my report, along with an invoice, to the police station. You will also receive a letter from me, Detective. I will mail it out tomorrow and it will arrive with you the following day. It’s nothing important. But you should read it all the same.’

‘So, what do we talk about today, if it’s all settled?’

‘Anything you want. It’s your choice.’

The word rings through Pace’s ears as he tries to focus on his therapist’s eyes. Behind the older man, on the walls, Pace sees black flames creeping in from the sides. He doesn’t want to but instinctively looks over his shoulder. He can’t tell Artaud about what he sees. He can’t say that he thinks he is being followed. He can’t share his darker thoughts that bad things happen around him. And it’s not just his job, he knows that. Dr Artaud would incinerate his report and rubber-stamp a new one with the words delusional paranoia or something.

‘This is still a safe place, Detective. There’s no fear of judgement in here. Less so, today.’

No fear.

Pace closes his eyes for a moment and breathes, just as Artaud taught him in week two. When he opens his eyes, the flames have disappeared.

The detective shuts his eyes once more and exhales, ready to talk. His choice. He does not fear. The report is written. What he says today is not important. He opens his eyes again and Artaud is scribbling on his yellow legal pad. He doesn’t look at the time on his phone but several minutes have passed that he cannot account for. He worries.

‘Breathe, detective. This is not the end. Not yet.’

Pace does as he is told.

‘What were we talking about?’

‘You said you had visited both bridges even though it is not your case.’

‘I did?’

‘Yes. Would you like some water?’ The doctor moves over to a jug of water on a side cabinet and pours his patient a glass before walking it around to him. ‘What is it that so interests you in the case?’ He sits back behind his desk and takes the lid off his pen.