Eleven
I slept in fits and starts. My brain wouldn’t shut off, fretting about the case and when the killers would strike next. And what had pulled Tricia from our dinner? Was there already a fourth victim I knew nothing about? One and two o’clock in the morning came and went. By the time my alarm went off at six thirty, I’d managed maybe three hours’ sleep. I did my best to cover the fading bruise on my throat and made myself presentable, ready to honestly give the session with the shrink a shot. Out of routine, I clipped my badge to my belt.
I kept my head down as I walked into the precinct, ignoring my colleagues as I marched up to the second floor and down to the very back of the building. The sign on the door read, “Dr. Fellowes.” My heart skipped a beat.
There are plenty of people
