Page 53 of Over the Edge

“Speaking of unanswered questions—did your tip this morning lead to anything helpful with the Robertson case?”

Not a topic he could discuss.

“That remains to be seen.” But her reference to South Carolina was about the best opening he was going to get to probefor details, and hearing the story from the source would be more informative than whatever his research unearthed.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, she shifted on the couch, keeping a tight grip on the pillow. “Are we done?”

“With the statement.”

She gave him a wary look. “What else do we have to talk about?”

Her attitude toward him, for one thing.

But the incident in South Carolina could offer important insights about her mental acuity and her reliability as a witness if she did begin to remember helpful information regarding the killer she’d seen.

Best to begin there.

“What happened in South Carolina?”

Her shoulders stiffened, and she moistened her lips. “That’s not relevant to my life here.”

“Maybe it is.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but it’s my job to ask questions. To dig deep. You mentioned a grocery store shooting once. I can research the case and get the essentials, but I’d rather hear your version.”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” A film of sweat broke out on her upper lip. “It’s taken me hours of counseling to get past the repercussions.”

His antennas went up.

“With a psychologist?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Both in South Carolina and here. But that doesn’t mean I have deep-seated psychological issues. My problems stem from trauma. I went to a professional for a psychological injury, just like I’d go to an MD for a physical injury.”

“I get that. And I admire the fact that you recognized you needed help and were proactive about getting your life back on track.”

That was true. Yet lingering repercussions of trauma could impact her value as a witness in the Robertson case, especially if she began to have notable lapses in memory or to imagine danger where none was present.

He closed his notebook. “I can research the South Carolina case if necessary.” In light of what she’d shared, pushing her to elaborate on that experience right after another upsetting incident wouldn’t be kind. Neither would digging for clues about why she disliked him.

Eyeing him, she squeezed the pillow she’d mashed against her chest. “I haven’t talked about it in any detail except with my therapist in South Carolina and Dr. Oliver here. And the local police there.”

“I can appreciate how difficult it is to revisit bad memories.” More than she’d ever guess.

He started to rise.

“But I can give you the topline, if that would be helpful.”

He froze.

Nothing in her guarded features offered a clue about why she’d had a change of heart, but if she was willing to talk, it would be foolish to stop her.

He sat back down. “That would save me time.”

She dipped her chin in acknowledgment.

Yet second after second ticked by as he waited for her to begin, the silence broken only by the muffled hum of a lawnmower pushed by someone who must prefer mulching leaves to raking them on this almost-balmy fall day.

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