What was she telling me? And why?
“We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and he’s told me how much he thinks of you. So I wanted to be sure you got it straight. For Nick’s sake. And yours. Under the circumstances, I wanted us to be clear.”
Clear? “I see.” I didn’t, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
“Good. I didn’t want anyone to be hurt. Look, Nick’s a peach. Funny. He’s not my type, not at all. At first, I didn’t think we’d get along—he seemed so coarse and macho. But actually, he’s quite cultured, and sensitive when you get below the surface.” Exactly how far below the surface had she gotten? I swallowed, picturing her long fingers slipping beneath Nick’s shirt.
“So.” I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders. “What’s your point?”
She leaned back, eyeing me. “Just—I want us to be open with each other. It’s not like I intended to get between you. But, the way things are going, Nick and I are going to be pretty much inseparable. You need to know that.”
My head was spinning. Was Beverly Gardener, famed best-selling author, profiler, problem solver, and internationally renowned star of radio, television, and the courtroom, threatened by me, innocuous unknown Zoe Hayes? Was she warning me to stay away from her man? Was Nick her man? Had he been all along?
Possibly. Why not? If he could hide the truth about a bag of body parts and a lost finger, why would he reveal the relatively minor detail that he had a girlfriend? Was there anything Nick hadn’t misled me about?
Suddenly, I was tired of Dr. Beverly Gardener. Undaunted by her poise or confidence or even her hypnotic green eyes. “Fact is,” I said, “where Detective Stiles is concerned, there’s not much for me to talk about. I’m done with my report.” I smiled as carelessly as I was able. Nick wasn’t the only one who could lie.
She frowned. “Really? Then I must have gotten the wrong impression. From what he said, I thought you were personally involved.” Her eyes probed mine. Warmly, as if she cared. “But, either way, at least we’re cool with each other, you and I. And that’s important. Truth is, I don’t have many female friends. Most women feel threatened by me and keep their distance. But you aren’t intimidated. I can see why Nick likes you.”
What was going on? Was she asking me to be her girlfriend? Or warning me to keep away from Nick? Or both? Was she being deliberately obtuse, or was I simply slow?
Turning to go, she touched my arm and smiled, tiger eyes glowing. “Well, time to go. The Tv crew’s waiting.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Go get ‘em. Fame calls.”
A shadow darted through her eyes, but she didn’t reply. With a fluttery wave, she hurried away, leaving me rattled and confused.
THIRTY-FOUR
BEFORE I HAD TIME TO DIGEST THE CONVERSATION, THE ORderly arrived with Celia Dukell. I tried to shift my thoughts away from Beverly Gardener and Nick Stiles, to focus on work, but Beverly’s throaty voice kept taunting me, whispering phrases in my mind. “Nick and I are going to be inseparable . . . He’s sensitive ...under the surface . . . It’s not like I intended to get between you . . .”
“So? What do you think?” Celia’s voice brought me back. “My sleeves. I rolled them up today.”
She had, indeed, exposing a patchwork of assorted scabs and scars. A jagged cut here and a razor slice there. Normally, Celia hid her wounds under clothing; today, she displayed her self-inflicted carnage openly, almost proudly. Seeing the damaged skin, I forced an encouraging smile.
“Wow, Celia,” I congratulated her. “That’s a big step. How does it feel, baring your arms?”
“Embarrassing,” she shrugged. “Naked.”
I tried to concentrate on her eyes, not her ravaged flesh, but when I closed my eyes, my mind recalled other grisly wounds. A lopped-off finger. A gory bag of sliced skin and brittle bone. A brunette profiler and a rugged cop. Stop it, I scolded myself. This is Celia’s time. Focus on Celia.
I gave her some soft modeling clay, hoping it would give her a physical focus. Some patients found it soothing to make pinch pots or animal figures. Working and molding the clay, Celia talked freely about herself. “You know, for the longest time, nobody knew I was cutting,” she bragged. “The only reason they found out is that I got carried away and went a little too deep into my thigh.”
In fact, she’d almost bled