Page 35 of The Last Session

The Redditor—User40458312—had only posted this one comment about two weeks ago. I clicked onStart Chat.

Hi there, I just saw your post about the Center for Relational Healing. I am actually looking for Catherine O’Brien, who has ties to CRH. Do you know her? I’m a friend—close enough—and am worried about her. Thanks.

The CRH didn’t have a social media presence at all. But overall, the lack of info deflated me. Sure, there was one strange comment. But they hadn’t shared any explanation; maybe they’d just had a bad time. If shady things were going on, wouldn’t more people be talking about it?

Maybe Amani was right—maybe it was just a coincidence that the Center used theStargirlimage. And even if Catherine was somehow involved in the Center, it didn’t necessarily mean she was back there now. Could I be reading too much into her note? It was possible she’d truly forgotten that she’d been using Amani’s phone and not mine. She probably had other things on her mind.

Still, I continued to scroll through the Center’s site over dinner. A Resources page showed dozens if not hundreds of photos. There were quite a few with groups, ranging from six people to more than twenty. The vast majority of them were white people—maybe not uncommon in certain types of New Agey circles? I zoomed in, studying the faces.

Wait. A smiling male face popped out at me.

Shaved head, dark eyes, a cleft chin.

It was Dr. Clint, the so-called therapist who had pressed his number into my hand. A number that was no longer in service.

I studied the picture, searching every face. No Catherine.

Moon and Sol stood at the center of the group, grinning widely.

18

It was easier than I’d expected to reach Officer Kim. I’d found her and Officer Rivera’s full names in the visitor log, and decided to try her first. Though she’d said less than him, something about her energy had made her seem in charge. Standing just outside the hospital, I found her precinct and the operator transferred me immediately.

Officer Kim listened as I explained who I was. I told her about the note, the podcast, the tattoo connection, and Clint the faux therapist. After I finished, there was a long pause.

“Hello?” I pressed the phone harder to my ear, trying to ignore the biting cold; the temperature had just plunged back into wintry depths. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for sharing this info. I’m not sure what you’d like us to do with it.”

“I mean, you could call this retreat center at the very least. Maybe it’s too much to expect someone to actually gooutthere—”

“We’re no longer investigating this case,” she interrupted.

“Why not?” I pressed.

“Catherine has a history of disconnecting with her family. And she’s an adult, so it’s her prerogative to do so.”

This was what Diane had said. I felt a flash of annoyance. “But what if she’s in trouble?”

“I really can’t speculate on that.”

“All right.” I tried to regroup. “So basically you’re saying that if I want anyone to check this out, I’ll have to do it myself?”

“I strongly suggest you donotdo that.” Officer Kim coughed and spoke quietly to someone else, her voice muffled like she was pressing the phone to her chest.

“And why is that?” I felt defiant, and enjoyed the feeling. It gave me energy.

She came back. “I’m going to be very honest with you…”

“Thea.”

“Thea. You seem like a caring person. But in these types of cases, the person in question is often caught up in some sort of illegal activity. So I would not recommend getting further involved.”

I paused. “Do you think I could talk to her parents?”

“They don’t know anything. Really.”

“How do you know?”

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