Page 16 of The Last Session

The subtitle:Has the former child star flown over the cuckoo’s nest?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I scrolled down the neon-lettered gossip site.Catherine O’Brien, best known for her role inMy New Family, is currently being held in the observation unit, according to an unnamed source. Catherine disappeared from the public eye three years ago.

I rubbed my forehead, willing away the headache from last night’s wine. Well, that hadn’t taken long to come out. I felt a lump of guilt, as if I’d unmasked her to the public myself.

In the lobby, our receptionist Hazel was arguing with someone.

“But I’m her therapist,” he was saying, his vowels rounded by an Australian accent. “All I ask is that you give her my new number. I need her to be able to reach me.” His hand extended over the desk.

“Sir, I cannot divulge any information about our patients.” Hazel spoke slowly and loudly. She’d worked on the unit for many years, and I’d always been impressed by her unwillingness to bend to those demanding to talk to patients—including, a few times, the police.

“I’m not asking you to.” He noticed me pulling my key card out of my purse.

“Miss, do you work here?” He took a step towards me, his dark eyes pleading underneath a knit cap. He was my height, athletic-looking, his chin clefted like a Disney prince’s. “Would you be able to pass along my number to Catherine O’Brien? I’m her former therapist; I just want to make sure she has my information.”

“Can’t she look you up if she needs to?” I asked, feeling a zing of uncertainty.

He shook his head. “I stopped seeing clients last year.”

For all I knew, this guy could be a TMZ reporter, trying to talk his way in.

“We stopped therapy a year ago,” he went on. “I was living in LA at the time. I’m here doing research now.” He held out a slip of paper. “Can I just give this to you?”

Hazel was watching us, but then the phone rang and she picked it up. In that moment, I took the paper.

His eyes flashed with gratitude. “Thank you.”

As I entered the ward, I considered the exchange. Typically, therapists weren’t allowed to breach confidentiality, which meant they couldn’t tell anyone who their clients were. But not all therapists followed the rules, and maybe he’d thought this emergency situation merited it.

The small, boxlike letters spelled outDR. CLINT. The phone number had a 323 area code.

I paused in the hall and googled it. Okay. Downtown LA.

Catherine was still in the med unit, but news about her celebrity had gotten out. When I started my rounds I passed by the security guard Frank telling a nurse about it. Lydia hovered nearby, clearly straining to hear every word.

I stopped in front of her. “Ready for art therapy today?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Your twinsie started to self-destruct, huh? Maybe she’s a—what are those called—fembot.”

“Those are just in the movies.” I tried to sound kind. Diane always encouraged us to reality-test with patients.

“Lighten up, Red.” Lydia stared at me. “It’s a joke.”

“Gotcha. I’ll see you later.” Frank and the nurse had already moved away.

“You know,” Lydia called after me, “maybe you fucked up. Maybe you blew up her spot.”

I slowed to respond, annoyed, but Diane called from down the hall, beckoning me.

“She’s awake and talking,” Diane said when I reached her. She started striding down the hall, towards the medical wing, and I hurried to keep up.

“Oh my god,” I couldn’t help but blurt out. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she’s lucid. And no longer psychotic. She was still agitatedand aggressive when she woke up yesterday; the nurses had to restrain her. They finally did the CT scan; no cranial bleeding, thank God. We’re bringing her back to the unit today, but I thought you could connect with her now if you have time.” Diane gave me one of her dissection-level stares. “Are you comfortable with that? I know she…”

“Oh yeah, totally.” I nodded frantically, even though my knees were still sore with bruising. “It’s fine. As you said, she was in a psychotic state.”

“Try to see if you can get more information from her.” Diane checked her phone. “So far she’s refused to call anyone. But she’ll probably want to be moved somewhere else.”

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