Page 46 of In Her Dreams
“That’s what I’m thinking.Apparently, the therapist Sam saw in Pinecrest, Valerie Mercer, is a hypnotherapist.And Dr.Walsh specializes in sleep disorders.Hypnotherapy would surely be in his toolbox.”
“We need to go ask him about that,” Jenna added, pulling out of the parking lot.The remainder of the drive was spent in companionable silence, both of them processing the implications of what they knew.
At Dr.Walsh’s office, the same receptionist who’d been there yesterday looked up as they entered, her expression hardening.
“Sheriff,” she acknowledged with cool professionalism.“What can I do for you today?”
“We need to speak with Dr.Walsh,” Jenna said.
The receptionist consulted her computer screen.“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.The Doctor is fully booked with patients today.”
Jake stepped forward.“This concerns three suspicious deaths.I’m sure the Doctor can spare a few minutes.”
The woman’s expression didn’t change.“I’ll let him know you’re here.Please take a seat.”
With furtive looks, the receptionist tapped a text message on her phone.Jenna and Jake exchanged glances as they both guessed the same thing.Walsh had probably given the receptionist instructions concerning what to do if the two of them came back today.The text message was a warning.Getting to see him was going to be tricky.They settled into the waiting area’s chairs, choosing ones that gave them a view into the hallway leading to Walsh’s office.Jenna flipped idly through a magazine, her eyes regularly scanning the area.
After about fifteen minutes, Jake’s subtle nod directed Jenna’s attention to a door in the hallway that was partially obscured by a large potted plant.Dr.Anthony Walsh was easing that door open, glancing furtively around.
Jenna and Jake moved simultaneously as Walsh turned away, attempting to slip off down the hall.
“Dr.Walsh,” Jenna called after him.“We need to talk to you.”
Walsh looked annoyed.“Sheriff.I—I’m in the middle of a very busy day.My receptionist should have explained—”
“She did,” Jake cut in.“But three people are dead, Doctor.Surely, that warrants a few minutes of your time.”
Walsh’s shoulders slumped in defeat.“Three?”
He led them to the same office they’d met in before and took his seat behind his desk.Jenna noted how his hands trembled slightly as he arranged some papers on his desktop.A tell, clear as day.Walsh was scared.
“Doctor Walsh,” she began, “I’m here to inform you that Samuel Rodriguez was found dead last night.”
The news hit Walsh like a physical blow.His already pale complexion went ghostly, and for a split second, naked fear flashed across his features before he forced it behind a mask of professional concern.
“That’s...that’s terrible,” he managed, his voice strained.“How did it happen?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Jenna replied, watching him closely.“His symptoms match those of Richard Winters and Anita Palmer—extreme terror leading to heart failure.All three victims had sought your help for their phobias.”
“I don’t see how I can help,” Walsh said.“Patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing anyone’s treatment.”
“We’re not asking you to breach confidentiality,” Jake said, leaning forward slightly.“We’re asking about a potential connection between these deaths and the treatments they received.”
“I treat many patients with anxiety disorders and phobias,” Walsh replied, his words carefully measured.“We discussed this before.”
“Did you treat Rodriguez for his agoraphobia?”Jenna demanded.
“I can’t answer that.”Walsh’s hands moved restlessly across his desk, straightening items that didn’t need straightening.“Sheriff, I understand you’re doing your job, but I cannot discuss specific patients or their treatments.”
“Why did Sam stop his treatments with you?”
“He had every right to do that, and I can’t discuss anything he said to me.”
Jenna reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.“As we told you yesterday, each victim had unusual objects hanging over their bed.Very odd dreamcatchers.”Turning the screen toward him, she brought up the photographs she’d shown him yesterday, plus the one she’d just seen hanging in Sam’s bedroom.
Walsh flinched—a subtle reaction but unmistakable.He glanced at the last photo for only a second before looking away as if the image burned his eyes.
“I’m not familiar with those objects,” he said, the words coming too quickly to be convincing.
