Page 2 of Three for a Girl

“He drugged you, tied you up, hurt you. That is going to have a lasting impact, scars.”

“My torso’s covered.”

The words tasted bitter, and Chad looked away.

“Physical and psychological scars.”

“I prefer to focus on the physical ones.”

“Do the scars on your body bother you?”

“What, it wouldn’t bother you? Some psychopath cutting numbers into your flesh.”

Chad flexed his hand before freezing when Keeley’s gaze snapped to it.

“It’s okay to feel angry, to feel stressed.”

“The scars are a constant reminder.”

“When you see them, what emotions do they evoke?”

Chad licked his lips—they were so dry his tongue caught before he dragged it across. “Helplessness, weakness, stupidity, hopelessness, regret.” He shook his head before he started to drift, he couldn’t sink back to that dark place. Keeley would never allow him to go back to work.

“Regret’s an interesting one, what do you regret?”

Setting the barn on fire, losing Romeo. No—Chad closed his eyes, and listened to his inner voice, the stable part of his mind that wasn’t ragged and rough. The detective knew he did the right thing setting the barn on fire and getting Romeo caught.

“Take your time.” Keeley whispered.

“I regret confronting Marc alone.”

“And Romeo Knight, do you regret confronting him alone, too?”

Chad kept his hand still and stared deep into Keeley’s eyes. “Yes.”

Her fingers twitched on the desk, Chad smirked, imagining she was fighting off her own unconscious reactions, too. He was trying to trick her, she was trying to see through him.

Nothing but a game, and he had to win this one.

“What about psychological scars?”

“I don’t like thinking about what happened. I don’t want to think about it.”

“I understand, Chad. I want you to know, you’re in control of these sessions, not me.”

Chad kept his expression neutral, but he wanted to laugh, he wanted to laugh and not stop. He wasn’t in control at all, Keeley held his future in her hands. One word from her, one suspicion, and he’d be found out. His throat tightened, and he spluttered as he swallowed.

“Your new inspector worries about your impulsiveness.”

“I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice … a third time. I’ll be more cautious from now on, analyze the situation.”

“You were under a lot of pressure with Marc.”

“I was being hunted like a … dog. My name, and life splashed across the news, my colleagues doubting me, the public accusing me.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Yes,” he snorted. “That’s a simple way of putting it. I fought my way up, tried to live a life like everyone else, a good life, and in a matter of weeks, it’s all undone. I’m seen as a killer, some apprentice and then Marc gets hold of me.”

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