by Freya Barker
I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm not sure if I was just overly optimistic to think that by simply moving here the problem would be solved, or whether I purposely blocked any evidence to the contrary. Now that I think about it, the signs have been there—and given what I'm looking at—I can safely assume she's not doing well. There's no way to unsee the red smudges on the knife, or the blood-stained towel on the floor beside the boxes I hadn't spotted before. Without touching anything, I walk straight out of her room and grab my phone off the kitchen counter.
Five minutes later I'm still standing there, phone in hand, unable to get my head wrapped around who I should call. It's not a natural state for me; I'm usually the one being called on for help, but I recognize this situation is well over my head. I almost drop the phone when it suddenly starts ringing in my hand.
"Is this Mr. Tobias?"
"It is."
"Mr. Tobias, my name is Susan Treyvaud. I'm a student counsellor at Parry Sound High School." That churning in my gut fires up as I listen to the woman talk. "We had an incident today over lunch break that involved your daughter, do you have a min—"
"Is Millie hurt?" I blurt out, cutting her off.
"No. I'm sorry if I alarmed you, your daughter is physically fine, albeit upset. Perhaps it would be easier if you could meet with me? I have a few concerns."
"I can be there in twenty minutes."
"Make it thirty, and my office is down the hall from the front desk. Just sign in and follow the signs for Student Services."
"Will do."
I hang up the phone, head back to the bathroom, firmly pull Millie's door shut, and take the fastest shower ever recorded. Not quite ten minutes later, I'm on my way back to Parry Sound.
The woman's office is easy enough to find, her name is on the door, which is partially open.
"Mr. Tobias?" A woman, a few decades my junior, gets up from behind the desk and opens the door all the way. "Please come in. I'm Susan."
I take her offered hand. "Newt Tobias. Where is Millie?" I ask, noting the office is empty.
"Mr. Tobias, why don't you have a seat? Millie asked to go back to her class, and we thought it best to let her go. She's in good hands, on the other side of the hall. I wanted to speak with you alone for a minute, if that's okay?"
I hesitate for a moment, taking in the woman's calm demeanor and disarming smile, before sitting down on the edge of the chair.
"What happened?"
Ms. Treyvaud leans forward, crossing her arms on the desk in front of her. I recognize the body language; I've grown a keen eye in my years on the force. She's trying to put me at ease, while at the same time asserting herself.
"There was an altercation at lunch today between one of Millie's classmates and a group of other students. Millie tried to intervene and was pushed, tripped over a chair, and fell. She's fine," Susan clarifies quickly. "We had our school nurse check her over, but..." She casts her eyes down on her hands, before appearing to steel herself and looking me straight in the eye. "Millie was reluctant. In fact, she became quite agitated when she was asked to remove her jeans so her legs and hips could be examined. The nurse abandoned any attempts when Millie burst out in tears, but notified me. You see, Mr. Tobias, often this kind of behaviour raises a red flag, and —"
"She's a cutter," I blurt out. Not something I want to brand my little girl with, but I need to halt the possible direction this conversation is taking.
"Sorry?"
"My daughter cuts herself. I discovered it a few months ago, which is why I moved her here, for a fresh start. I hoped it was just a phase, but this morning I saw evidence that suggests she is still actively harming herself."
"I see," Susan says pensively, leaning back in her chair. "Have you sought professional help for her?"
"Of course I have," I snap defensively. "Back in Kanata. But I thought it was over."
"Mr. Tobias—"
"Might as well call me Newt, since my dirty laundry is all over your desk."
"All right, Newt, I'm a counsellor, not a therapist, but I think even if Millie had stopped hurting herself, perhaps the recent changes in her life—new town, different school—have her resorting back to cutting. Again, I'm not a therapist, but I do believe she might benefit from seeing one."
I rub my hands over my face in an attempt to hide my despair. I'm a fucking cop, I live to serve and protect, and I can't even help my own daughter.
"Any suggestions?" My voice comes out on a croak.
"Actually, I do. A fabulous therapist with a practice in Parry Sound, who specializes in youth mental health, and happens to visit our school regularly. In fact, Millie has met with Freddy already. It's standard procedure for us to keep an eye out for new students, making sure they adjust well. I can set up a meeting for you, if you'd like?"
"I can do it. Do you have a number?" The mention of mental health in relation to my own child throws me, and I scramble to regain some control.
"I have a card here somewhere," Susan says, rummaging through a desk drawer before she pulls out a plain white card with what looks to be paw prints from its depths. I take the card from her hand and with a quick glance; I tuck it in my shirt pocket.
F. Marchand, MSW, AAT
Child—Youth—Family Mental Health
Family Help Clinic
"Thank you," I mumble, a bit defeated. "I guess maybe it was a bit naïve to think I could fix things simply by moving somewhere new."
"Mr. Tobias—Newt—if I've learned anything in working with teenagers, it's that parents are often the last to know what goes on in their children's lives. I understand from the file we received from Millie's old school, her mother passed away just a few years ago. It's possible she's not open with you about her own struggles, for fear she'll just add on to yours. I'm sure Freddy will be able to help you get some clarity."
Still a bit numb, I thank her; resist the temptation to drag my daughter out of her class, taking her with me, and head out to my Jeep.
Freddy
"Just so you know," Jess stops me as I pass by her desk. "I booked a new patient over your lunch hour tomorrow. Better bring something you can eat at your desk."
"Over lunch?" I ask sharply. Lunchtime is when I take Boulder for a walk, and this past week I've stopped by the veterinary clinic to check on the puppies too. Jess doesn't even look guilty, just shrugs her shoulders.
"Only time you have free. It sounded urgent. Susan at Parry Sound High School referred them."
"Fine," I concede. "But you'll have to take Boulder for a pee. I won't have time."
Jess narrows her eyes at me, and although her reaction gives me childish pleasure, I keep a straight face.
"Fine," she echoes, before turning her back to me.
"See you tomorrow," I chirp, grinning at the dismissive hand gesture she wordlessly tosses over her shoulder.
I'm still smiling when my phone rings as I open the car door for Boulder. It's Maggie.
"You're coming tonight, right?" She dives right in when I answer. "I can't stand another night of looking at Phyllis' smug face. Please say you're coming, you already missed the last one."
"All right, all right." I cut off the flow, while I mentally adjust to a night out instead of the night I had planned: on the couch with my feet up. I almost forgot about euchre night again. "I'm just now heading home. Let me eat something, feed the brood, and I'd like to grab a quick shower, so I may be a few minutes late getting there."
"Yesss. Phyllis is going down!" she cackles gleefully, before adding on a more serious note, "Just don't make me wait too long."
"Geeze, Maggie. Doesn't this ever get tired?"
"Not if she keeps flaunting her mastery in my face."
"Seriously? You know this is a card game, right?"
"Yes, but it's a metaphor for life. That woman always comes out on top."
"Not sure how you figure, since you're the one going home after the game to a loving husband and great kids. Her house and
her bed are empty, all she has to keep her warm is her euchre prowess." I'm met with silence on the other side, which is not unexpected. It's not the first time I try to point this out, but both women seem to wait for the other to lay down arms first. "Anyway, I've got to get going, otherwise I won't even make it. Just behave, will ya?"
"Only because you ask so nicely," Maggie gives in. "But make sure to bring your A-game."
-
Of course the ride home, on average a little over ten minutes, today takes me almost twenty. A deer had tried to take on a pickup truck on Nobel Road, just past Parry Sound Drive, and had sadly lost. I thought the truck looked familiar, when I spotted Billy Baldwin with some other kid, trying to haul the deer's carcass into the bed of the truck. Pretty safe bet he's not going to report it.
Being in a bit of a hurry, I end up rounding the pickup, and the handful of gawkers, instead of getting myself involved. Not today. I also forfeit my usual stop at the postal outlet in Nobel and head straight home.
I own a small house and a nice piece of land, just off Cil Road. The house itself is nothing special, although the porch is nice, but I was drawn to the barn and bit of fenced off field in the back. Room for more animals. To the north, the property edges on to Simmes Lake, but I would have to tread through pretty thick bush on that side to reach the water. Up the road from me is easier access, so when I have a hankering to get my feet wet, I just walk there. Boulder likes to go for a swim occasionally to cool off.
By the time I hop in the shower, after checking in on and feeding my beasts, it's already seven thirty. I haven't even had a chance to grab something to eat for myself. Guess I'll just have to grab something at Don Cherry's, indulge in an order of potato skins. The greasy treat is something I rarely allow myself, but what the hell—if I'm going to be stuck between my feuding friends—I think I deserve it.
Barely an hour after getting home, I'm back out the door, this time leaving a very sad-looking Boulder behind.
"I won't be long, buddy," I promise, but it clearly makes no impression on him as he hangs his head even lower.
Don Cherry's is busy, but luckily I manage to snag a parking spot when a minivan pulls out. The patio out front looks to be almost filled to capacity, good thing we've had decent temperatures this week. Guess I'm not the only one opting to grab a bite here.
As I pass through the tables to the entrance, my gaze catches on a set of striking blue eyes staring at me over the rim of a pair of horn-rimmed reading glasses. Parry Sound High School's newest student is sitting at a table in the far corner with her back to me, but her father is facing me full-on, a menu covering half his face. Damn. Seems wherever I go these days; I bump into him. My instinct to duck and dodge is overruled by social etiquette, drilled into me since childhood. I politely smile and nod before walking inside, not bothering to wait for a response in kind.
"Yo, Fred!"
At the far side of the bar, Maggie is waving wildly, and I make my way over.
"Why aren't you playing?" I pull up a stool.
"We're short a couple of tables. Just waiting for some more diners to leave. This place is packed tonight."
I look over to see only two of our customary four tables occupied by players. Phyllis and her partner, Mandy, are already making short work of their opponents, by the looks of it. Ordering a drink—I allow myself one beer when I'm driving—I turn my back on the tables and ask Maggie about her kids. Always a good distraction, because the one thing Maggie loves to talk about more than her beef with Phyl is her offspring. By the time an extra table frees up, I've forgotten all about those pretty baby blues.
"We'll play the winning team," Maggie offers up when we pass Phyl's table, and I elbow her in the ribs.
"Not obvious at all, woman," I bite off, sotto voce.
"Don't bust my chops." Maggie smiles mischievously. "I've been looking forward to this for two weeks." I roll my eyes at her and sit down.
"Hey, Phyl, how are ya?" I greet Phyllis when she walks up to the table just moments later. "Where's Mandy?"
"Good, and she's just hitting the washrooms."
"New hairdo?" I ask, since her once blonde locks are now a bright coppery red.
"Sure is," she confirms, patting her carefully curled tresses. "Had to drive all the way into Sudbury to find a decent hairdresser, but it was well worth it I think. I should give you the phone number, they could do wonders for you." I grin when I hear Maggie's growl in the background, but I'm not that easily baited.
"Aww thanks, that's really sweet, but I prefer a more natural look, you know? What you see is what you get with me." I smile saccharine sweetly into Phyl's slightly disappointed face. She really isn't a bad person; she's just desperately trying to hang on to her youth, instead of embracing her maturity. She would be a stunner, even now, without all the enhancements.
"To each their own." She shrugs, looking toward the bar. "I'm just going to grab a refill while we wait for Mandy."
I watch as she walks away before turning to Maggie, who still has her eyes on her retreating back.
"You're staring," I hiss.
"Who the hell is that?" she asks, ignoring me.
My eyes swing to the bar, where I see Phyllis flipping back her hair as she focuses her full attention on a man trying to pay his bill. Tall, with a broad back, long solid legs encased in faded jeans, attractive grey scruff on his square jaw, and I don't have to see them to know that his eyes are a clear blue. I watch as he turns his head toward Phyl and smiles, the resulting lines around his eyes and mouth softening his stern features.
Well, crap.
FIVE
Freddy
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
Jess waves the poop bags I stuffed in her hand. Boulder sits beside her, a woeful look on his face as he flicks his eyes from one to the other.
"Pick up his poop."
"I'm not picking up his turds! I'll take him for a walk, and he can bloody well pee all he wants, but I draw the line at cleaning up after him. You keep that sphincter tight, mister," she admonishes Boulder as she leads him out of the office. The poor dog casts one desperate last glance in my direction before trudging after her out the door.
My new patient is a bit late; giving me a chance to wolf down the quinoa salad I had left over from the weekend. I called Hank earlier, to let him know I wouldn't be in today to check up on the pups, who were doing fine. I'd love to be able to take both sisters in, but am afraid it would be biting off too much. Puppy training one dog is a challenge when you work, let alone two. Besides, it may just be a bit overwhelming for Boulder, who isn't getting any younger.
Turning to stare out the window, I let my mind wander in a different direction. It automatically goes to last night, and the unexpected pang of jealousy I felt watching Phyllis strike up a conversation with that man, even eliciting a few smiles. All I'd received any of the times I'd run into him was glares or scowls. I'm not sure why I even care; the guy is an absolute ass.
At the sound of a tentative knock on my partially opened door, I swing my chair around and get up.
"Come in," I call out as I round my desk to greet my new patient, but when I see who walks in, I come to an abrupt stop.
Newt
"You?"
The question slips from my lips before I can check it. It would appear that Freddy Marchand is a woman. Not just any woman, but the feisty vigilante with the gorgeous hair, who verbally crushed my balls in the Parry Sound Mall parking lot. The woman who about ran me over with her shopping cart at Canadian Tire the week after, and the same woman I could barely keep my eyes off of last night at the sports bar where Millie and I stopped for a bite. That woman is the therapist? And what kind of name is Freddy anyway?
"I could say the same thing," she fires back, composing herself after what clearly was shock at seeing me.
"Guess you could," I agree, stepping into her office. "Maybe we should rewind and start with a proper introduction this time." I hold out my hand. "My name is N
ewt Tobias, and I'm fairly new to the area." Almost reluctantly, she grabs my hand and I can't help noticing how nice her cool, slim fingers feel, sliding along my palm.
"Frederique Marchand, but everyone calls me Freddy, or Fred."
The sound of her voice is deeper than I remember, but melodic and feminine. I'll be damned if I call this woman Fred, not going to happen.
"Nice to meet you, Freddy."
"Have a seat," she says, pointing to the couch.
I opt for the leather chair across from it instead, and I can tell by the slightly startled look on her face, she wasn't expecting that. My guess is she normally sits here, but I don't feel bad. Walking in to find she's the therapist I'm supposed to be talking to has me a little unsettled. Taking her seat makes me feel a little more in control.
I watch as she grabs a pen and pad from her desk and sits down in the corner of the couch, pulling one leg up under her. Seeing her at ease helps me relax.
"Mr. Tobias, what brings you here?"
"Newt, please."
"Newt. What can I—"
Just then a large dog comes bounding into the office, followed by an older woman with an apologetic smile on her face.
"I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Jess, you can leave him here," Freddy says, scratching the big head of dog in her lap as the office door closes. To me she says, "I apologize. This is Boulder, my therapy dog. If you are allergic, or mind dogs, let me know, I can put him outside."
"I like dogs. Most of them like me too."
I'm rewarded by a disarming grin, as she motions the big mutt in my direction. "Go say hi, buddy."
"My daughter wants a dog. We've been arguing about it," I blurt out, absently rubbing the dog's soft ear. Judging from the way he's leaning into my legs, he doesn't mind. "She wants one now, and I think we should wait for summer break. It's really a stupid thing to argue about, and now..." I fall silent.
"You know, I think I've met your daughter on my visits to the high school."
"I figured that when I saw the dog come in. She mentioned it. That is, when she was still talking to me." It slipped out unintentionally and I immediately press my lips together.