I AM ABLE

Click- click!

��Do you ever have nightmares about the Chosen killer? About that night?�� Doctor Faulkner clicked his pen again, looking over the top of his notepad at Kacey, who barely registered the question; her attention was directed at the small window nearby and the steady rainfall just outside.

��Detective Dean?��

��Yeah?�� she said, forcing her eyes back to the older man with the thin gray hair plastered to his pale skull; his glassy, bulging eyes gazing back expectantly.

Click-click!

I really, really want to shove that pen up his ass.

��I mean, ��no.�� No I do not have nightmares about Declan,�� she lied. ��Or about the night I shot him.��

Images flashed through her mind: of that night six weeks ago, of the old asylum, of Declan Crowe silhouetted against the window frame and the night sky, a gun in one hand and in the other��

What? What was it? What had she seen? Why couldn��t she remember?

��Did you attend the funeral?�� Faulkner asked, rousing her from her reverie.

��No, I thought that would be in poor taste.��

��You have an impressive record, detective. First in your class at the LAPD Police Academy, near-perfect scores on your exam and you made detective by age twenty five.��

Kacey raised her eyebrows. Where was the old coot going with this?

��And you left it all to come here,�� he continued. ��Do you want to talk about what happened in L.A.?��

��Actually I��d like to do that, but the opposite. I��d like to not talk about that. Ever.��

Click- click!

��Okay. Okay then���� Faulkner wrote something on the pad. Probably something like ��Patient continues to be a royal pain in my ass.�� Kacey��s eyes wandered the small office: certificates, diplomas, a bookshelf, lots of potted plants, soothing colors�� and between the two of them, a small glass-top coffee table. Everything situated just so; a carefully constructed scene to make patients feel comfortable�� which, for whatever reason, had the effect of making her feel particularly uncomfortable.

��So why transfer to Washington State?�� Faulkner asked.

Shifting in her oversized seat (whatever happened to shrinks using couches?) Kacey deadpanned: ��I came here for the sunshine.��

Faulkner smiled. ��Ha ha! Yes! The sunshine���� He let out an exaggerated ��ahhh���� then: ��Don��t you have family here?��

��Yeah, a brother. I grew up here.��