Deadly Deception - By Andrea Johnson Beck Page 0,12

grabbing her mini voice recorder.

“Patient’s name is Stella McGuire, age ten, experiencing social isolation and destructive behavior since the divorce of her parents last year, and possible molestation by a family member about a year ago.”

Anne clicked the red stop button. One of the worst parts of her job was having innocent children describe the violation of adult authority. But at the same time she was pleased she could assist in putting that person or persons away for a very long time.

Shelly buzzed Anne and informed her that her patient had arrived. She gathered all her paperwork, her voice recorder and two fabric dolls, one a boy and the other a girl. Anne had a special room for the children when it came to these types of discussions. Children needed to be able to trust her and feel that they could open up to her, so she created a room that was warm and inviting.

“Good morning, Mrs. McGuire.”

Anne extended her free hand toward-the slender, auburn-haired woman.

“Good morning, Dr. Jamison. Thank you so much for seeing us.”

Anne knelt down to Stella’s level, giving her a soft, friendly smile.

“Hello Stella, I’m Dr. Jamison, but you can call me Anne, okay?”

Stella was a miniature model of her mother, with curly, long auburn hair and fair porcelain skin.

“Okay,” Stella squeaked out.

“I have some fun toys in my play room. We can blow bubbles or play dress up—whatever you would like to do,” Anne said in a low, empathetic tone. Stella seemed to be fond of this idea and placed her tiny little hand in Anne’s.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

The three of them entered the “play” room as Anne shut the door behind them. A silver-dollar-sized green light illuminated the room’s entrance, indicating the room was in use and others should not disturb the session.

***

Two hours later Anne was wrapping up her dictation notes on young Stella.

“Stella will need intense bi-weekly sessions. She’s almost to the trusting point but not quite there yet.”

She placed the recorder down, looking at the clock.

“I better get going,” Anne said, cleaning up loose papers on her desk.

Her goal was to arrive there before nightfall and hopefully shower and beauty up a bit before Adam returned to the cabin. He had sent her a sweet text message before heading in to court this morning.

I missed you last night. I didn’t sleep well at all.

I can’t wait to move into our new place. Waking up

without you feels wrong. I love you my angel. Please

drive safe and text me when you arrive.

Anne’s lease was ending in less than two months and Adam was selling his townhouse. They had found a stunning classic colonial overlooking Lake Of The Isles. Anne thought five bedrooms was a bit much for their first home but he assured her that they would fill the rooms with children’s laughter. Adam came from a large loving family, unlike Anne who was an only child and now parentless.

“Shelly, is Casey still here?” Anne asked while locking up her office.

“Yes, but she is in with a patient.”

“Okay well, I’m outta here. If you need me, call my cell. Sometimes the service isn’t all that great, so if I don’t answer, call the cabin’s landline. I’ll call and check in tomorrow though.”

“Have a wonderful time, Dr. Jamison.”

Shelly never called her Anne. It was always Dr. Jamison. She did the same to Casey, which drove Casey crazy. That was how she was raised in Louisiana. Good ole southern manners.

Anne left the office and was officially off until the following Monday. She wanted to change her clothes before leaving. Anne didn’t want to be traveling in the car for almost four hours wearing black trousers, a silk blouse and six-inch heels but she just wanted to get to the cabin, pop open a bottle of merlot and relax by the fireplace.

Traffic on Interstate 35 heading north wasn’t too horrendous. A few pockets of clustered cars slowed her progress, but the farther away from the city she got the more open it became. She left Adam a voicemail informing him that she was in the car and would be arriving around three-thirty. The early afternoon sunshine beamed down on her engagement ring, setting off lively prisms that waltzed above her on the ceiling. Anne’s phone began to ring, startling her out of her daydream. It was Casey; she placed the phone on her lap, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Anne asked.

“I just saw the surveillance tapes after shoving a Ulysses S. Grant down their