I’VE BEEN trying to call you, but you’re not picking up my calls, so I will leave this voice mail. I can’t meet you today. A detective was at my house this morning. Rosina is missing, and he thinks I had something to do with it, but the truth is I didn’t. I know you won’t believe me. That’s why I have to do this. Find Rosina. I don’t know how, but I have to. Evans was at my house too, threatening me. He says if he finds out I had something to do with Rosina’s kidnap, he is going to make sure I rot in jail. Do you understand what that means? I know you do. I can’t go to the cops. They won’t believe me. Neither will you. The only person I trust now is Parker. I’m going to him. I know he won’t let me down. See you. Until then.
Dr. Flynn listens as the voice mail ends and wonders how he could have missed her call. He’d taken his usual break after checking in with a client who harbored dark fantasies of killing her cheating husband. He had put his phone in his office and driven himself to his favorite restaurant downtown where he enjoyed lunch with a co-worker.
After that, he drove back to the office and had another session with a patient. Since then, he’d been waiting for Isla, but she never showed. That’s when he picked the phone and found Isla’s voice mail. For protection’s sake, he doesn’t give his personal contact to patients. He has different numbers he gives to different patients. The criteria for this are based on the urgency, state of mind of the patient, and the progress.
The voice mail rings in his head several times. He gives it a thought. It sounds like Isla is in big trouble. He doesn’t need his expertise to know this.
He plays the voice mail again. As he listens, he finds an emotion attached to it. This isn’t just a woman in trouble. This is someone who is very scared that she doesn’t want to go to the cops. What disheartens him is that she doesn’t want to come to him either. She doesn’t trust him yet.
He’d thought they were establishing some sort of connection in the short time they had met. He’d thought Isla could come to him when she didn’t feel safe. But no. She’d gone to Parker. Has he failed as a therapist to Isla?
Running a hand through his hair, he puts the phone away and crouches over his desk, pulling back a drawer. He takes out the card Detective Conor had given him in the morning and stares at it. It never occurred to him he’d ever call him, but he has to for Isla’s sake.
He reaches for the telephone and dials the number on the card. Seconds later, he’s speaking with Detective Conor.
“Hello!” he says. “You’ve reached Detective Conor. How can I help you?”
“Detective Conor, it’s Dr. Flynn.”
“Oh,” he lets out, “this is unexpected. I didn’t think you would call.”
“Me neither.” He sighs. “This is urgent. Can we meet?”
“Sure. Time and place.”
He glances at his wristwatch. “My office at six.”
“Got that. See you.”
* * *
AT SIX in the evening, Detective Conor and Dr. Flynn listen to Isla’s voice mail. When it ends, Detective Conor glances up and says, “She’s trying to run. She knows something about Rosina’s disappearance.” He clenches a fist. “Damn it! I should have put a surveillance team together to watch her.”
Flynn takes a sip of the coffee and puts it across from him. “This sounds like a woman trying to run to you?”
“Yes, and if you had told me earlier that she was planning to kill Rosina, I could have detained her.”
“Based on what?”
“On what you said. She told you she was going to kill her. That’s a confession.”
Dr. Flynn looks blankly at his face. “You still don’t know that yet. Yes, she was thinking of killing her, but she sought help. That’s why she was here; so that she won’t do it. What’s the essence of checking in with me if she was going to do it?”
Detective Conor racks his brain. He sits up and says, “Alibi. Isla didn’t do it herself. She had someone do it for her.” He springs up from the chair and grabs his jacket from the arm, throwing it on his shoulder.
Flynn rises abruptly. “Where are you going?”
“Her house.”
Flynn takes an overcoat from the hook on the wall and slips into it. “I’m coming with you.”
* * *
Conor pulls up in the drive, cuts the engine, and unfastens his seat belt. They step out of the car simultaneously and walk to the door. Winds blow across the house, dissipating dust and rustling the trees.
Conor lifts a hand and rings the doorbell. He shares a tense look with Dr. Flynn as they wait for someone to show up. Flynn looks away and dips his hand into the pocket. A short while later, the door opens and Uncle Sam appears, looking haggard.
“Good evening,” Conor says.
“Good evening. How may I help you?”
“I’m Detective Conor,” he says, pointing to Flynn. “He's Dr. Flynn.” Then in a terse voice, he adds “Is Isla around?”
Sam trembles when the wind seeps into his body. “No,” he says. “Come inside. It’s cold outside.”
He leads them into the living room.
“Where is Isla?” Conor asks, taking in the view of the living room.
Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. She left in the morning. She didn’t tell me where she was going.” He massages his temple. “I wanted to call the cops, but it is not twenty-four hours yet. I’m worried about her.”
“I came here in the morning, but I didn’t see you,” Conor says.
“I was in bed probably.” He peers at Conor. “Is everything all right with my niece?”
Conor detects the worry in his voice. The last thing he wants to do is add up to his worry. “Yes. She just needs to clear up some things.”
Sam gnaws his lips. “Are you sure?”
“Certain. Why do you ask?”
“You said you’ve been here earlier, and you’re a detective. I’m just worried about my niece. She’s been down lately.”
He looks imploringly at Conor. “Please, find her. She’s the only relative I’ve got.”
Conor smiles at him. “We will.” He takes out a card from his pocket and gives it to Sam. “When she comes back, tell her to call this number.”
He nods and takes it, sliding it into his pocket. Conor beckons Dr. Flynn who has been studying the place and seems lost in his thoughts.
As they walk to the door, a portrait on the wall catches Flynn’s eyes. He stops momentarily and fingers it.
“Is this Isla?”
Sam smiles warmly, poignant memories suddenly running through his mind. He knows he’s forgetting things, but he will never forget the occasion this picture was taken.
“Yes. That was years ago. It was Isla’s birthday and we visited her Mom at the graveyard.”
Flynn’s eyes widen, as though he has seen a ghost. He swallows hard.
Conor notices his shock and says, “Are you all right?”
He doesn’t talk. He just nods. He hopes his theory isn’t true and that he’s imagining things. This can’t be, he thinks.
YOU ARE READING
THE WOMAN BEFORE
神秘 / 驚悚𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚-𝙩𝙤-𝙗𝙚. 𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙃𝙀𝙍? I have never hated someone with every fiber of my being before until I heard about Rosina Scott, my boyfriend's wife-to-be. I...
