“Yes. And it can be triggered by exactly the kind of experience that Darren went through as a child. The color white becomes a symbol in the brain of the near-death experience he went through in the snow. That was all he could see as he tried to breathe. Nothing but whiteness. So the color brings back the terror.”

“You think Darren Newman suffered from leukophobia?” Frost asked.

“He never talked to me about it, and I didn’t catch it at the time, but yes, I think so. I never saw him wear anything except brightly colored shirts. His car? Candy red. And remember his storage locker? The door was painted green. All the other lockers had white doors, but Darren’s door was green.”

“That seems like a stretch,” Frost said.

Frankie grabbed his phone and put it on the table in front of him. She used her finger to swipe through the photos. “These pictures were all taken inside Newman’s house. Look at the walls. There’s not a white wall anywhere in the house. It’s either wallpaper or bright pastels. Look, you can see, even the ceilings aren’t white. Who does that?”

Frost studied the photos. “Okay, let’s assume you’re right about Newman’s condition. What does that mean? Why is it important?”

But he already knew what she was going to say.

“The torture chamber,” Frankie told him. “It was all white. Don’t you see? If Darren had leukophobia, he would never have painted that room white. He would never even have been able to walk inside that room. He couldn’t make it past the doorway. It’s impossible.”

“Maybe Newman worked through his leukophobia after he saw you. It’s been a year.”

“No. Not based on his house. Not based on how he dressed.”

Frost frowned. “You saw the pictures inside that storage locker. You know what kind of man Newman was. He wasn’t an innocent victim.”

“I’m not saying Darren wasn’t a murderer and a sociopath, but I’m telling you what I know as a psychiatrist, Frost. If that was the room used to manipulate those women, then Darren didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it. A man with leukophobia going into that room is as likely as Lucy Hagen voluntarily climbing the span of the Bay Bridge.”

“Frankie, he was there,” Frost pointed out. “He was wearing the mask. Lucy killed him. We both heard it happen.”

Frankie shook her head. “Did we? I’m not sure about that. Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to think. I came into the room and saw Lucy holding a knife. Darren was dying. And Todd Ferris was just sitting in the corner, watching the whole thing. He could have been the one who stabbed Darren.”

“Todd was drugged,” Frost said.