by Lisa Daniels
“Are you a parole officer?” he asked, his brow furrowing.
“I’m a psychologist.”
The man grimaced and looked up, his blue eyes darkening beneath his glasses.
“Yeah. He needs one,” he muttered, but before Maria could question him on it, he ushered her inside.
“Ty will meet you when you walk in. Just act normally. There are cameras in every room but you won’t see them necessarily. We’ve got grunts shooting in the common areas and with certain players. You’ve signed the NDAs and other crap, right?”
Maria nodded even though she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of any of what she was being told. Yes, she had been bombarded with paperwork via email, but what did it really mean?
I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“Good luck.”
The therapist cast him a wary look over her shoulder but he had already shuffled off to the side, leaving her on her own.
With a huge sigh, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Almost instantly, it was opened and she was staring at a hyper-looking young man who was clearly playing the part of someone he wasn’t.
“Hey. I’m Ty,” he mumbled, spinning on his heel just as quickly as he had appeared. “Follow me.”
Maria had questions but she managed to stifle them as she did what she was told and followed the man through the house, her jaw tightening as she looked around.
Who the hell is going to believe that this is a halfway house? There’s a Goya print on the wall, for the love of God.
She was led into a charming den area, equipped with a high desk and loveseat.
Ty closed the door and faced her.
“You are constantly being recorded here,” he explained. “Don’t forget that anything you say can and will be used on television.”
Why do I feel like I’m the one being arrested?
“Do you understand, Dr. Margolis?”
“Yes.”
Ty nodded and eyed her through his peripheral vision.
“Just wait here and Andrew will be along shortly. Try not to make your session too heavy. I mean, definitely hit on some hot issues but don’t be a downer, you know?”
Maria’s eyes became slits of annoyance.
“My job is not entertainment,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “I’m not going to ham up my session for your ratings.”
Ty scowled slightly and rolled his eyes.
“Whatever,” he muttered, turning toward the door. “Just wait here.”
He left Maria to stare at the walls as she shook her head in disbelief.
Will it even matter what happens in this session or has Blaise’s parole already been carved in stone with this atrocity of a television show?
Not for the first time, she swallowed her disgust at what the world was becoming.
We’re living in an Orwellian nightmare and it’s only getting worse with stunts like this show.
Still, Maria knew she had a job to do and she couldn’t let her disdain overcome her duty toward her clients. She had been assigned a prisoner, not a Hollywood actor. No matter what her feelings were about the situation, her duties were still the same.
~ ~ ~
Andrew was over half an hour late for his session, something Maria could easily write him up for, but she steeled herself from speaking her misgivings aloud. For all she knew, the matter was beyond his control.
She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
This time.
It was the moment Maria had been anticipating for over a week and she found herself unable to move as the door was pushed open. Standing in the threshold was a tall, ruggedly handsome man in his early thirties, leering at her with bright green eyes. Maria could feel the animus oozing off his body and her shoulders stiffened.
He offered her a smirk and cracked his knuckles, ambling toward her. Maria could tell he was trying to assert his authority over her, but she wasn’t perturbed.
The soft lighting of the office bounced off his shaved head and there was a swaggering, dangerous sexiness about him which both alarmed and enticed Maria as she studied him. She rose from her spot behind the table, extending a slender hand for him to take as she slipped around the side of the desk.
“Hello, Andrew,” she said politely. “I’m Dr. Margolis. Thanks for coming.”
He paused directly in front of her and peered down as if he couldn’t identify her species.
“You are a hot piece of ass. I heard about you in the joint, but damn, I thought they were exaggerating.” He whooped and licked his lips.
“Have a seat, Andrew,” Maria told him, retreating her hand when she realized he was not going to take it. She forced herself to keep an even tone, even though her heart was pounding slightly.
You’ve dealt with this type before, she reminded herself. He’s been in prison for twelve years. His social skills are non-existent.
“Blow me,” Andrew replied in an almost pleasant tone.
“Andrew, we can do this the easy way or the more difficult way,” Maria told him, sighing as she sat. “Any way you look at it, you are required to be here.”
“Oh, baby, I want to do this the easy way. Come here and blow me,” Andrew told her, approaching her desk.
For the first time, Maria felt a spark of fear and her mind raced back to his file.
All of his convictions have been for non-violent crimes. He was only charged with armed robbery and felony murder because of his accomplice.
She maintained his gaze and offered him a wry smile. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for this session, but thanks for the offer.”
To her immense relief, Andrew snorted and turned away, plopping his broad frame onto the sofa.
“Well, look at this,” he commented, throwing his legs atop the loveseat. Maria tried not to cringe as dirt from his faded Doc Martens fell onto the dark green material. “Isn’t this fancy! I thought they only had these things in movies.”
He grinned and sat up, his emerald eyes shining.
“Oh, wait a second, this is basically a movie, isn’t it?”
This is not going to be easy. It would have been bad enough without the television situation.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Andrew?” Maria urged, sitting back and trying to read him.
“What do you want to know, sugar?” he laughed. “I’m sure you got everything you needed reading my file.”
“I think we both know that there’s more to you than what’s written on the pages,” Maria countered, leaning forward. “Start with your childhood. Did you have a happy home life?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Is it going to be like this?” Andrew snarled, sitting up suddenly. His eyes were alight with fury and Maria felt another flash of terror. Somehow, his face seemed to be contorting into another shape, but when she really studied his expression, she could see nothing but an incensed male with too much testosterone before her.
“It can be any way you want it,” she assured him quickly. “We can talk about anything you want.”
The bitterness flowing from the con was palpable, and for a moment, Maria felt like he was going to fly over the desk and strike her. She willed herself not to show fear, but she could feel her underarms growing wet beneath her dress.
“Why are you so angry?” Maria asked quietly, trying to change tactics before she lost control of the situation.
“Bitch, please,” Andrew scoffed. “You don’t know shit about me.”
“I would like to know about you,” Maria told him, but even as she spoke the words, she wasn’t sure if she was speaking the truth. What she wanted was for the session to be over and she was painfully aware that there were still another forty-six minutes left before she could escape the room.
What if he does turn violent? Will someone come in here to stop him?
She wished she had thought to ask.
With covert eyes, she looked casually around the room to sneak a peek of the eye
s in the sky. Seeing them suddenly made her feel more confident.
“Just tell me what I need to do to stop seeing you,” Andrew snapped, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I have enough shit to worry about in here without you coming in once a week and ruining my groove in the house.”
“You need to talk to me,” Maria told him. “And when I think you are ready to become a functioning member of society, I will let your parole officer know.”
A small, cruel smile formed on Andrew’s lips and he looked at Maria.
“What if I snap your neck like a twig?” he asked conversationally. “Then what happens?”
Maria swallowed her repulsion and kept his gaze.
“Then I suppose you’ll have to start all over with someone new,” she replied calmly. “From back inside.”
Andrew lost the smirk.
“You think you’re smarter than me,” he told her sinisterly. “But in the end, I will win. I always do.”
And Maria believed him.
“Why is this a competition?” she asked softly. “Why can’t we just speak like normal people?”
His grin widened and he sneered openly.
“Do you think that you and I have a lot in common, Princess?” he jeered. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Why don’t you tell me how things are going here in the house?” she suggested. “Do you like your accommodations?”
He snorted. “What’s not to like? It’s free.”
But there was something in his tone that told her that Andrew wasn’t enjoying his time at Con Lair as much as he was pretending.
“Do you regret coming here?” she pressed gently.
His face turned to stone and he leaned forward, his face again taking on the the bizarre expression she had noticed before.
“Honey, you have no idea what you’re walking into,” he hissed. “Why don’t you quit now before you’re in way too deep.”
Maria sat back, her pulse roaring in her ears.
I wish I could, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. But I have a feeling it’s already too late.
~ ~ ~
Luke turned off the shower and reached for a paper-thin towel hanging on the rack.
The material barely did anything to dry him off and he longed for the water pressure at his own house, rather than a dingy motel off the interstate.
To his relief, his paid companion had disappeared while he was showering and he wasn’t obligated to say goodbye to her. He wondered if he had chosen the hooker because she looked so much like Maria Margolis.
The doctor had been on his mind a lot, after all. Too much, really.
As he quickly dressed, his mind once more wandered toward the psychologist.
Maybe I will take Dr. Margolis up on those therapy sessions, he thought, grabbing his keys from the dresser and heading out of the room toward his Bronco. I could kill two birds with one stone. I would gain her trust and then she might give me what I need on Blaise.
The idea was ingenious and a slow smile formed on Luke’ face as he peered into the rear view.
Before he could reverse the truck, his cell phone rang. He debated letting it go to voicemail, but something inspired him to answer it.
Putting the truck in park, he snatched the phone from his coin tray and his eyes bugged in disbelief when he saw the number.
Ask and you shall receive! he thought breathlessly to himself.
“Detective Rivers.” He could barely keep his voice from quavering
“Hello, Detective.”
He knew her voice anywhere. It had been etched in his mind since the first time he had heard it.
“Dr. Margolis?”
“Yes. I hope I am not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. Is everything okay?” he asked, detecting a strain in her voice.
“Yes… sort of. I just wanted to let you know that I had my first session with Andrew Blaise today.”
There was a slight pause and Luke opened his mouth to respond, unsure if she required an answer or not.
“How did it go?” he finally asked. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I—I don’t think I was entirely prepared for him.”
Margolis seemed to be fighting with herself and Luke was not sure what he was supposed to do to make it better.
“Do you think we can meet for dinner?” she said suddenly and Luke felt his eyes widen.
“Dinner?” he echoed.
“Strictly professionally,” she added quickly. “I—I just wanted to talk to you and I’m starving.”
Luke chuckled, glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was just after six o’clock.
“Of course,” he told her without hesitation. “How about the Cactus Grill in Gilbert? Do you know it? Say quarter to seven?”
“Sounds good,” she agreed, sighing, and Luke could tell there was something weighing heavily on her mind.
Did that bastard do something to her? the detective wondered suddenly as he replaced the phone in his dash. He would personally re-arrest Andrew if he violated the terms of his parole, but a part of him hoped Blaise would see his release through long enough to disclose his accomplice. After that, Luke didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to the con.
He can drop dead, as far as I’m concerned.
He tried to remember Andrew Blaise when he had first met the punk almost fifteen years earlier. Blaise had been a cocksure smartass who had been certain he was untouchable.
We showed you, didn’t we, you smug son of a bitch, Luke thought as he drove from downtown toward the suburb of Gilbert. He knew that prison had not been good to the con and the realization gave Rivers a certain pleasure.
His phone rang again but Luke did not bother looking at it. He dismissed the sense of guilt which flooded through him. It wasn’t necessary to look at the display. He had a good idea who was trying to reach him. He had more important things to worry about than his personal life at that moment.
~ ~ ~
When he arrived in the Cactus Grill parking lot half an hour later, he saw Dr. Margolis’ silver Audi parked near the entranceway. Again, he was hit by a sense of envy that she could afford such luxuries while he was cruising around in an ’09 Bronco.
She saw him immediately and waved, stepping from her vehicle, and Luke was again stunned by her attractiveness.
Dressed in a black pantsuit and a simple string of pearls, she seemed to have walked off the cover of a fashion magazine, her hair perfectly coifed into a side braid with two tendrils framing her high cheekbones. Once more he was struck at how young she seemed, but he had learned that she was in her early thirties, despite her much younger appearance.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Detective,” she told him, extending her hand. “I realize it was rather last minute, but I feel like this couldn’t wait.”
“No, of course,” he told her, taking her hand. “I am always at your disposal.”
He thought of how close he had been to telling her to screw herself the last time they had met and he was grateful he had kept his temper in check.
Maybe I’m maturing, he thought dryly as they made their way into the busy restaurant.
He doubted that. He had always been the same man, and Luke didn’t believe he was capable of change.
They were seated at the bar and Luke cringed slightly as he realized that it probably wasn’t the most secluded setting he could have chosen, but Margolis did not seem to notice the din in which they were surrounded. She ordered a double martini and toyed with her napkin for a few minutes, unspeaking.
“I don’t want to pressure you, Doctor, but it might be better for your own peace of mind if you just say what it is that seems to be eating you up.”
She peered at him and a small smile played on her lips.
“Maybe you have a future in psychology if you tire of the police force, Detective,” she told him jokingly and Luke laughed.
“There is not enough money in the world to get
me to do what you do,” he told her sincerely. “If I had to listen to the griping of these cons all day, I don’t know what I would do. I have a hard enough time sitting through interrogations without punching them in the face. I have a great deal of respect for your work, Dr. Margolis, and I bet it takes a lot out of you.”
She shrugged slightly and took a sip of her drink. “Some days are worse than others,” she told him truthfully. “The former inmates are only part of my practice. Mostly I work out of Scottsdale with a much more affluent crowd.”
Luke had known that but he feigned surprise.
“Well,” he said admiringly. “Then you have twice as much to deal with. I wonder which clientele you prefer.”
The question was meant as a rhetorical joke, but the expression in Maria Margolis’ eyes turned serious.
“Most days I am not sure.”
He caught something in her voice, his intuition honing in on her face.
“You don’t enjoy your job?” he asked. She seemed to realize that the conversation was heading out of her control. Her mannerism switched instantly and Luke got the sense he had lost his chance to see her vulnerability.
She’s much too practiced for my techniques, he understood suddenly.
He put that away for future conversations.
“I enjoy it very much,” she replied easily. “Sometimes I have difficult decisions to make, however. Which is why I wanted to speak to you.”
“I am all ears,” he told her, sipping his own beer. His curiosity was piqued but he didn’t want to seem overeager.
“As I mentioned, I had my first meeting with Andrew Blaise today and it did not go as I expected, but it got me thinking about our conversation.”
Suddenly Luke felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest and he realized what she was about to say.
“What about it?” he asked, trying to keep the hopefulness from his tone, but he was certain his eyes were bright with anticipation.
“I believe that Andrew Blaise will prove to be a risk to others and it is my duty to report my concerns.”
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
“Then you should report him!” he cried, unable to keep his voice down in his excitement.