The Good Listener Read online

Which was only going to make my job harder if he had.

  But Blake was the last person that I wanted to know about my failure and Mrs. Whiteside’s death.

  He still believed that I was the best, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  If I had any chance of saving him, he couldn’t find out that my therapy hadn't worked.

  I became overwhelmed as I stared at Joel as he began to talk in his sleep.

  Of all nights, this was the night that I needed him.

  I needed him to comfort me, and to hold me.

  Anything.

  I couldn’t explain what I was feeling inside, but I knew that a drunk, passed out husband was useless.

  I didn’t bother to try to wake him or question him.

  Instead, I covered him with a blanket and curled up on the couch across from him.

  I silently cried myself to sleep that night as I recalled sessions with Mrs. Whiteside and the conversation that we’d had the last time that I’d seen her.

  What did I miss?

  Where did I go wrong?

  “Since when do you get drunk?” I asked Joel the next morning.

  “Honestly, I only remember having one drink,” Joel managed to say as he puked.

  “That must have been a hell of a drink.”

  “I’m serious Hannah. I remember having one drink, and the next thing I remember was waking up, running to the toilet.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know you were going out for drinks?”

  “It was last minute.”

  “Always let me know okay?”

  I didn’t trust Blake.

  Joel looked at me.

  “Okay.”

  “So, Blake said that you have something to celebrate. What was it?”

  “Oh, well, someone resigned yesterday, from a top position. And Blake offered it to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you took it?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “Don’t you think you we should have discussed it first?”

  “For what?”

  “Nothing. Congratulations.”

  “Um huh, congratulate me tonight why don’t you,” Joel came on to me and threw me for a loop.

  He laughed, and he headed to clean himself up.

  I guess he was in one of his better moods, so I was just going to go with it.

  Things hadn't been all bad, but they hadn't been all good either. And if he was going to be flirty and in the mood to fool around, I guess I could get in the mood too.

  I cooked breakfast just as I did every Saturday morning, and I tried to be normal, but the death was still heavy on my mind and heart.

  I wondered if I should mention the suicide to my husband but I had a feeling that it was going to lead to negativity.

  He would criticize and say that all of my long hours at work were a waste and make the situation about our marriage and me working less, versus trying to console me.

  I wasn’t in the mood for all of that, and I definitely didn’t feel like arguing with him.

  I already felt bad enough.

  I doubted my abilities. I was hurt because she was someone that I’d really come to know, and not to mention that I was also a little embarrassed.

  I’d tooted my own horn loud enough for the whole world to hear, and I was concerned about what was going to happen to my reputation.

  Maybe it was the wrong thing to be concerned about, but I would be lying if I said that it hadn't crossed my mind.

  Being a psychologist was my passion, but it was also my job.

  If patients stop believing me and my words, I would no longer have a job, and I just couldn’t imagine being anything else.

  I wasn’t sure if her history of therapy was going to be announced whenever a story was provided on her death, whether on TV or in the paper but I was waiting to see what would be said and if my history of working with her would be mentioned.

  I was already beating myself up about it, and I didn’t need anyone else to get in on the action, especially not the media.

  I didn’t need the news to spread to my current patients.

  What would happen to them if it did?

  Shaking away my thoughts, I decided that I wasn’t going to mention it to Joel.

  I would just figure out how to get through it on my own.

  I briefly entertained my thoughts of Joel’s promotion and wondered what Blake was up to.

  But maybe I was thinking too much into it.

  Blake’s personal problems had nothing to do with us, and though he wasn’t someone that I wanted my husband to socialize with, I had to keep my personal and professional feelings separate.

  I finished cooking and instead of waiting on Joel to take out the trash, I decided to take it out myself.

  And what do you know?

  Immediately I noticed Blake’s car.

  He was parked on the side of the road, right in front of our house.

  What was he doing here?

  He knew that I’d spotted him and instead of speeding off, he just sat and stared.

  And then suddenly he smiled.

  Ugh.

  He was such a creep!

  Dropping the bag, I headed straight to his car.

  “What are you doing here Blake?”

  He just looked at me.

  “You shouldn’t be coming to my house, without an invite, with the exception of last night. This is considered stalking Blake.”

  “I’m not the one you should be worried about,” Blake stated.

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, what are you doing here Blake?”

  “Hey, you’re early,” Joel said from behind me.

  He was now completely dressed, dragging his golf clubs and chewing on a piece of bacon.

  Blake ignored me and greeted Joel.

  “Are you out here harassing my boss Hannah?” Joel asked as Blake got out of the car to help make room for the clubs in his trunk.

  “No. She thought this was some kind of patient call or something. Let’s go. We are going to be late.”

  “What about our breakfast?” I asked Joel still completely embarrassed.

  “It was good. Thanks.”

  “You could have told me that you had plans,” I screamed as Joel got into the car and they started to pull off.

  “I forgot,” Joel yelled and soon they were out of sight.

  I scowled myself internally and headed back towards the house.

  If Blake thought that I was going to let him become all buddy-buddy with my husband, he had another thing coming.

  And I was going to make sure of that.

  *******************************************

  Chapter THREE

  “You seem uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not. I’m just a little embarrassed about the other day.”

  “Don’t be. Stalking happens all the time. More than most people would like to think.”

  “Trust me, I know. I’ve been there before. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”

  “No worries.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s a personal question, pertaining to my life. If you don’t mind,” I advised.

  “Go for it.”

  “Did you really hire Joel to help him? Because somehow you knew that he was my husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nothing more? No hidden agendas?”

  “He did an application for my company Hannah. I didn’t go find him, he found me. He applied for an open position. I was browsing through the applications, and I came across his name. I knew his name and his face simply because I’d done my research on you. You came highly recommended. I read articles, talked to a few people, and as I said, I’ve seen all of your interviews. The last one I saw you in person. I was standing right in front of you. I’m well acquainted with one of the anchors, and he did me a favor and granted me access
so that I could watch them interview you. I used the system at work to do a little background check on you. I had to get to know the woman that I was about to trust with all of my darkest and deepest secrets. I’m sure you searched me as well. The internet is something else isn’t? There’s nothing on it that you can’t find; whether it turns out to be the truth or a lie. But that’s how I knew who he was when I saw his name. At least that’s who I figured that’s who he was until I brought him in for an interview. I thought that I was doing a good deed.”

  It was worrying to know that he had been watching me, studying me for quite some time.

  “So there wasn’t much about me that you didn’t already know, although you’ve asked me hundreds of questions?”

  “I knew what was on paper. But I’m a prime example that everything on paper isn’t always the truth. People and papers lie. Always remember that. That was something that I learned from my real father a long time ago, and I never forgot it.”

  “Oh, so you and your father were close?”

  I figured I might as well get down to business.

  “Not really. Were you and your father close?”

  “Very. I was definitely a daddy’s girl.”

  “Was?”

  “Yes. He passed away.”

  “How?”

  “Cancer.”

  “What kind?”

  “Lung. And so did my mother. But enough about me. Are you going to tell me a little more about the victim this time?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why this time? Why did you come for help, this time, considering that you said that you have murdered people before?”

  “Because I don’t want to kill; it just happens. But I want to stop. I want you to help me stop. And you are the only one that can help me.”

  “Then let me help you.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m feeling fine.”

  “How do you feel about losing your first patient?”

  What?

  How did he know that?

  I’d been checking the news and the papers and even though there was a story on Mrs. Whiteside, her history of depression or therapy hadn’t been mentioned.

  Not even her cause of death.

  So how did he know that?

  “How do you know about that?”

  “You would be surprised at the things that I know. How do you feel?”

  I shouldn’t be talking about this with him.

  But maybe this could give me a different avenue and way of breaking down some of his walls.

  If I appeared emotional, maybe he would feel some kind of sympathy for me and make my job today a little easier.

  If I showed him that I could be vulnerable, maybe that would get me further than being a Miss Know It All had.

  “I feel like a failure.”

  “Failure doesn’t feel good does it?”

  “No. It doesn’t. Do you still believe that I can help you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know that? How did you even know that she was one of my patients?”

  “As I said, I know a lot of things. You can’t save them all.”

  “But I want to. And I will try to. I want to save you. I want to save “her”.”

  “Then save us.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I know exactly how I want to kill her. I’ve been dreaming about it. In my dreams, I am choking her. The feeling that it gives me can’t be explained. I feel powerful. I feel satisfied. I feel liberated. And then I wake up.”

  After all of this, I was going to need a little therapy myself.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can control myself.”

  “Why do you want to kill her? What did she do to you?”

  “She didn’t do anything.”

  “Then why do you want to kill her?”

  “Because she doesn’t deserve to live.”

  He was still taking me in circles again and as trained as I was, for the first time ever, I was getting frustrated.

  And the death of an ex-patient just made it worse.

  Every minute and every moment mattered.

  Since her death, I’d been even more consumed with getting through to him.

  I was more determined than ever, and it was as though I had become obsessed with finding a solution for him.

  I figured that it had to be someone around him.

  Someone that he had easy access to and that probably even trusted him.

  The sad part was that they were unaware of the kind of danger that they were actually in.

  I just didn’t get the feeling that she was random.

  I felt the need to try to get two steps ahead of him.

  But Blake was smart.

  Just as most psychopaths and serial killers were.

  He definitely fit the category, and he may even be just a little smarter of most.

  “Okay, let’s try to talk about your past.”

  “What about it?”

  “How was your relationship with your mother?”

  “Hated her.”

  “And could you elaborate on your relationship with your father?”

  “I hated him too.”

  “What about siblings?”

  “I’m the oldest. Have you ever wanted to kill someone Hannah?”

  “No. I haven’t.”

  “Not an ex that broke your heart? A bully? A backstabbing friend? Someone that you felt that the world would be much better without?”

  “No. Never. Normally people don’t have those types of thoughts.”

  “You mean normal people don’t have those types of thoughts.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Well, I’m far from normal. Underneath all of the money and everything else, I’m still…”

  “You’re still what?”

  “I’m still a murderer. And I have been for a very long time.”

  I could tell that the more and more that he said it, the more he confessed it out loud, he felt like there was a chance.

  It was as though now that it was no longer a secret, it was easier for him to own it.

  It was easier for him to accept it.

  And it would be easier for him to change it.

  “How is it that you have never been caught?”

  “I don’t know if you have noticed, but I’m smart Hannah. I’m very, very smart.”

  Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.

  “How did you get so smart? School?”

  “I learned a lot of it on my own. You see, when you grow up unaccepted, you find other ways to take you far away from your hurt and from your danger. That’s what I found in books. I would get books from anywhere that I could. Anything that I could read, I read them.”

  “Then if you are as smart as we both know that you are, why can’t you stop? Why can’t you stop taking innocent people’s lives?”

  “Who said that they were all innocent? And I don’t know how to stop.”

  “But you’re a very intelligent man. Surely you can find a way to make yourself stop doing something that you say that you don’t want to do.”

  “I’ve tried everything. Even if I go for a long while, without killing someone, I always get this feeling.”

  “What feeling?”

  “A feeling that will drive me insane until it is released. I release it when I kill.”

  “Have you tried other ways to release it?”

  “It doesn’t work.”

  “You have to want it to work. You have to want to stop. You have to want another option.”

  “You have to stop me.”

  “When was the first time? The first time you killed someone?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “I need you to try to remember Blake.”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “So it’s been quite a few?”

  “Many.”

  This was the man that my husband worked for.

  This was his super
ior.

  It just goes to show that you can never judge a book by a cover; you have to check and see if they are in therapy first.

  “So what’s the first thing I can do for you? What’s the first thing you want me to try to find? The first thing that you want me to be able to tell you about you?”

  “Tell me why I am the way that I am.”

  “Why do you think you are the way that you are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re going to have to help me figure that out you know that right?”

  “Okay.”

  He was so unstable.

  He kept glancing at his watch.

  He kept glancing at his phone.

  Sometimes he would close his eyes when he talked. Other times he would stare deep into my eyes as though he was trying to read my mind.

  “Let me ask you this was there ever any physical abuse from your parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your real parents or foster?”

  “Both.”

  “Physically? Sexually? Emotional?”

  He took a deep breath, but he answered.

  “All.”

  “How did it make you feel?”

  He looked at me as though I’d asked a stupid question.

  “Dirty. Sad. Angry. It made me feel like I wanted to kill someone.”

  Okay.

  Finally, something I could use.

  “Well, now we are getting somewhere.”

  It was a start.

  Finally, something I could work with.

  “So you kill someone when you are feeling dirty, angry or sad?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Maybe. At first, I started with animals. But it didn’t make me feel as good as killing people.”

  “How did you kill the animals, Blake?”

  “I would burn them. Or choke them.”

  “Was this as an adult or a child?”

  “Both.”

  For the next little while, I questioned him about his childhood.

  Anything that crossed my mind, I asked.

  And without too much back and forth, he answered.

  By the end of our session, I could conclude that his troubles came from an early age.

  His childhood was where it all began.

  So that meant that I had a lot of repairing to do.

  He had been troubled since he was a child.

  He had been disturbed for a very long time.

  Blake was filled with hate and anger, and it was going to take a miracle to fix him, but I could do it.

  I was just going to need a little time.