Think of the Devil

Twenty-Nine

Jane sighed, stopping the cassette tape to scribble out her last note and write a new one beneath it.

She'd been at this for the last two and a half hours, listening to Poindexter's therapy session over and over. At her desk in front of her was her notebook with tentative diagnoses, keywords in the sessions, and strategies used that she recognized from her own education. Her laptop also sat open with the minimal amount of research she was able to do on Benjamin Poindexter and his therapist Eileen Mercer. Between the cassette player and the Internet, there wasn't a lot of information for Jane to work with. Still, she was determined to gather as much intel as she could, wanting Matt to have something that could give him an advantage.

Pulling off her headphones and sitting back in her desk chair, she scanned over what she had so far. She rubbed at her sore neck, aching from hunching over the desk. Glancing at her favorite mug, only a sip or two of tepid coffee remained. She pulled herself up and crossed the apartment to her kitchen for a refill.

As she poured herself what was left in the pot, she thought back to the morning. She'd woken up alone, but after going through her morning rituals she'd found her favorite mug next to a fresh pot of coffee.

A small, fond smile pulled at her lips as she pulled her ibuprofen bottle out of the cabinet. Matt might not have been able to write a note explaining his absence, but his small gesture of endearment proved he cared. Popping a couple tablets into her mouth, she took a sip from her now full cup and leaned against the counter.

The rest of her day had been fine, but not as pleasant as the small surprise of coffee. She'd occupied herself with cleaning the apartment, trying not to focus on the shop owner below. Not that it was difficult; Alberto kept himself distracted by the TV or doing inventory for most of the day. He didn't want to think about her either. When she had to go downstairs to meet Henry for their session, Jane and Alberto barely looked at each other. It was everything she could do to fight back a wave of tears, though, when she felt how distraught the older man was.

The session had gone okay, and she'd managed to take another step forward in Henry's journey towards healing. Now that they knew the root of his problem laid with his father, it was a bit easier to peel back the causes of his anxiety. Jane even figured that there could be an end in sight for their sessions within the next month or two, if that's what he wanted. She'd patted his back at the door and bid him farewell with a smile, but she didn't walk him down the stairs. She couldn't face Alberto again.

After updating her notes on Henry and organizing her client files in her office, she'd set to work on listening to the tape and doing her research. With a sigh, Jane realized she should get back to it and returned to the office. Slipping back into her chair, she pulled her headphones on and resumed the recorded session.

An hour or so later, Jane wasn't sure how much more she could note about this session. She'd listened to some parts of the tape enough times that she worried about wearing it out. While a young Dex did a guided exercise with Mercer, she glanced over the papers on her desk and her scrawled handwriting on them.

(Late night?)

She almost jumped, having not expected Matt's voice. Glancing around, she realized he still wasn't in the apartment. As she pulled her headphones down to her neck and stopped the cassette player, she looked at the clock in the corner of her laptop screen.

"It's only eleven. The night's just getting started," she joked to the empty apartment. Leaning back in her chair, she tried to figure out how close he was. From what she could tell, he was making his way towards her from just down the block.

(What are you working on at this time of night?)

"I've been listening to the tape," she said, pulling her headphones off her neck so she could roll it in circles. The ibuprofen had helped some, but there was still a crick in it from the hours of slouching.