Page 38 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Gran always said I was too impulsive, too eager. Each time I’d tried to help a sick bird or attempted backyard medicine on a friend from school, I always made matters worse.

And this cannot get much worse.

“You have three seconds, or I’m admitting you to the psych ward on an involuntary hold.”

Sinking back into my chair, I held my head in my hands and did what I always did around him. I blurted the truth because he always heard a lie.

“A week or so ago, I angled my home security cameras to face Sailor’s house. She’s not doing well. She’s not talking to her friend and has no other support. I saw her crying one night in the garden and…I made a stupid decision to give her someone to talk to.”

His tension bled out slowly. Moving behind his desk, he sat down and cupped his chin in his hand like a shrink charging me five hundred dollars an hour. “Go on.”

“She’s not talking to a psychologist—or at least not one I know of. I know they say it’s easier for people to talk to strangers about this sort of thing. More so than with loved ones. Impartiality is helpful to voice all those tangled thoughts. So…I tried to be that person for her.”

“Okay…that doesn’t sound so bad.” He dropped his hand. “Anything else?”

“She called the police.”

He sucked in a breath. “She knew it was you?”

“No…but they knocked on my door—”

“Jesus, Zan—”

“But only to ask if I’d seen the man who dropped off the phone in her letterbox. I-I was careful. I thought she’d handed it over because she hadn’t messaged me since, but it turns out…she kept it.” And I hated the twitch in my chest because of that. “I-I bought it with cash and—”

“And you’re using your own phone number to message her. Do you not watch any movies? They can track you that way.”

That’s it then.

I’m screwed.

“Oh.” My head tipped down.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Zan. This could get very bad very, very quickly.”

“It’s already bad.”

He nodded with a wince. “It kinda is.” His lips pursed. “But you did it for the right reasons. And I’m actually rather proud of you.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve boxed yourself in with work for so long. You’ve never done something off script like this. I see what you’re doing. You use work to keep yourself from getting messy, but I hate to tell you, mate, this iswaymessier than just asking her out for a drink like I suggested.”

A strained chuckle fell out of me. “Yeah, I know.”

“I wonder why she didn’t hand the phone to the police?”

“No idea.”

“If she does and they track your number, you’ll probably lose your job.”

“I know that too.”

“Even if you stopped now, you’re already in way over your head.”

“I know. Wait.” I stiffened. “IfI stop now? Shouldn’t you be telling me to cease all contact immediately?”

His gaze darted over mine, churning with thoughts. “Tell me why you’re doing this. Is it because you feel responsible for her because you’re a doctor and she’s the bruised little granddaughter next door? Or…”

---