He sat back, withdrawing his hand from her leg. "I like that. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He slanted her a curious look. "For someone who dinna want to be my therapist, ye're doing a great job."
She grinned. It was about the best compliment she could ever receive. "It's a good thing I'm not your therapist. Otherwise, it would be totally unethical for me to be involved with you."
With a smile, he touched her hair. "So ye want to be involved with me?"
Heat rushed to her face. "I think I already am."
His smile widened and he coiled one of her curls around a finger. "Yer turn now. What do ye want more than anything?"
"A long, happy life. I'm not quite sure what that would entail, though."
"A long life," he murmured, and released her hair. "And what was your greatest fear?"
This was the part she didn't want to talk about. She turned to face the fireplace. "Apples."
"The fruit?"
"Yes." She drew her legs up in front of her, hugging her knees. "He sends me apples. Big red ones in a box. First he sent them to my office. Then he sent them to my apartment. I moved to another apartment, but he found me."
"Who is he?"
She shuddered. "Otis Crump. I even moved to a safe house, but the apples still came."
Robby moved closer to her on the couch. "He must be following you."
"He can't. He's in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary. In solitary confinement."
"He's ordering the apples from prison?"
"There's no record or proof of that."
"Then how can ye be sure he's the one sending them?"
She closed her eyes briefly. Don't make me explain it. It's too awful. "Believe me, it's him."
Robby touched her shoulder. "I believe you. He must have an accomplice."
She rubbed her forehead. "That's what I thought, but my supervisor thinks I'm...overreacting. That's why he sent me away, so I could calm down. Regain some perspective."
"Ye were a wee bit vocal in stating yer opinion?"
"More than a 'wee' bit. I was told I was being paranoid."
Robby smiled. "Och, we have so much in common."
She snorted. "Thanks."
"I still think yer prisoner has an accomplice."
"I agree, but I don't know how. He's been in solitary for two years. They monitor all his mail. I've questioned him about it, but it's hard to tell now when he's lying. He scatters just enough truth and half-truths into everything he says, that I can't tell what's what anymore. He - he enjoys playing with me."
"Does he know about yer gift?"
"He figured it out after the first few times I caught him lying. He...he finds me fascinating."