The New Patient (Dr. Epstein's Couch: Criminal Minds Series) (8 page)

I blink up at the ceiling and feel my pulse begin to settle. My ears strain to hear the sounds in my house, searching for anything out of place. I hear a distinct thudding noise. I slow my breathing and keep listening, and this time I hear a rattling sound coming from downstairs.

I reach across the bed for my baseball bat and slide out of bed. I’m naked and feel the chill of late winter the minute I walk into the unheated hall—the latest of my ever-increasing cost-saving measures.

Scanning the familiar dark shapes that comprise my living room furniture I see everything’s in order. Straining my ears again, I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. I squint to see out onto the deck. The curtains are drawn. I can’t see any shadows beyond them, so I sneak across my heavy Persian rug and lean against the wall. Carefully pulling back the edge of the curtain I survey the greyed deck. The streetlights afford me a good view...of nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief I switch on the reading lamp and collapse onto my favourite leather armchair. I’m getting more and more paranoid as the days go on. I’m contemplating watching some football when I hear the squeal of tires outside. I have just enough time to sit forward before a volley of gunshots ping and thud into my house.

Throwing myself flat on the floor I lay with my head down as I listen to the car speed away. Soon after, I hear another car speeding off with sirens screaming. I lay flat for a few long moments before getting up. I put my hand on my phone just as it rings.

“Bob.” I’m surprised by the sound of my own voice. It seems distant and I realise I must be in shock.

“You alright Doc?”

“Yeah.”

“Just sit tight. I’m coming over. The boys are after the vehicle now,” he says before hanging up.

Realising I’m naked I pull on some jeans and a jumper and pour myself a Jack Daniels.

7:00 am

Bob sits opposite me on my black leather couch, “You ready for this, Doc?” he asks.

“Of course.”

The media had started to set up at the end of the street, the boys in uniform had taped around my front yard to establish a crime scene. Bob was nervous, but he wasn’t talking much.

I’m tired. Tired of swinging between fear and anger, tired of being stuck inside all day, tired of going without sex and really fucking tired of being in my own head 24/7.

I want this to be over. I’m so fucking done with this shit that I’m almost crazy enough to hunt the prick down and shoot him myself.

“Any luck apprehending the shooter?” I ask.

Bob shakes his head, “Nope. Hard to believe how these pricks get away. Apparently our boys got caught behind a garbage truck, by the time they got around it the vehicle was out of site. They didn’t get the rego. No doubt it’s been garaged and re-sprayed by now.”

Bob pulls a leather-bound book from his brief case. He hands it me, “Monica kept a diary. Her mother found it while she was cleaning out her flat. I think you’ll find June onward makes for interesting reading,” he says.

“You want me to read this now?” I ask.

“Yep. It’s evidence and with the way things are at the Station, I’m keeping a tight reign on every scrap we have,” Bob explains.

I scan the ruled pages and see Monica had dated each page. Her writing was neat and precise. I find June 3
^rd
and begin to read.

Monica’s thoughts are deep and it’s clear she’s riddled with guilt and neuroses. She was a perfectionist full of self-doubt and criticism ... a worrying combination given her daily debate about whether or not life was worth living.

Kyle made contact with her in late June, soon after his release. He borrowed money and wanted to score some drugs. He was obviously thinking about making contacts in the criminal world. Monica was a means to an end.

She tried to separate herself but he managed to manipulate her into believing his rage was uncontrollable and that if she didn’t help him, someone would get hurt. He convinced her to meet me and to use our meetings to find out more information about me.

Monica writes about her guilt and feelings of entrapment. She also wrote about loving me and fantasised a great deal about our future. She didn’t give Kyle what he wanted, and in late July, he raped the 17 year old near his new address. He told her it was her fault.

When I ended our relationship, she told Kyle. At their meeting on the day of her death he told her that he planned to rape and murder a twelve-year-old...and that it was her punishment for displeasing him.

I snap the diary shut.

“When can we move on the operation?” I ask coldly, handing the diary back to Bob.

“If your still up for it, it’d be good if we could go today. Too big a pain in the ass to deal with the man hours and funds and all that shit if we have to change it,” he answers.

I nod. “I want this over. Hopefully Kyle will start to do his own dirty work,” I say.

“Our Undercover Ops say the big boys aren’t willing to give him anymore of their resources. He’s not a good supplier anymore and the drive-by was more of a warning than a serious attempt. If he had real power the hit would’ve been better targeted and a lot more fucking dangerous than firing into a house when everyone’s probably in fuckin’ bed.” Bob shakes his head and sits back, “Word is, Kyle is on the outer and I’m willing to bet he’s very pissed. If he wants you dead he’s gonna have to do it himself, no other bastard seems to want to.”

“Good.”

3:00pm

I finally pull onto the Highway and begin my journey North to Kinglake National Park. I feel anticipation spreading through my body as I run over the operational logistics we’d covered before my departure. I visualise where I’m supposed to set up camp for the next few days.

According to undercover operations, Kyle received ‘leaked’ news of my relocation. And the media interest was bound to work in our favour, especially since my car was filmed pulling out of the driveway.

Not for the first time I wish I had a gun, but I know I’ll have to make do with my best camping knife. Checking my mirrors, I can see plenty of traffic but I can’t tell whether any have been following me.

The decision to go bush was aimed at making me seem isolated and especially vulnerable. Hopefully, Kyle will take the bait.

5:30pm

The air smells clean and I take a moment to enjoy the sound of the birds and the distant tinkling of water. I finish hammering the last peg into the ground and tighten my tent fly.

Bob and his team couldn’t have chosen a better location for the operation. I’m far enough into the bush to be isolated from other campers, yet the team can observe my site from the height of nearby crevices and rocky outcrops covered in greenery.

My phone rings and I notice its Bob. “Hey, Doc, enjoying the view?” he asks.

“It’s not bad, Bob. Has anyone spotted Kyle?” I ask.

“Not yet,” he answers, “But we don’t expect this to go down like that anyway,” he adds.

“I know, but I can’t help wondering.”

“Just sit tight, Doc. We got a shit load of man hours built into this thing. The brass will do anything to keep the media from knowing the full extent of this...even spending some doe,” he says sarcastically.

I don’t blame Bob for being annoyed with his management. He’s tried to get resources behind Kyle’s investigation in the past...and according to him, if he’d had the support Kyle’s murder charge would have stood up, a fact that the media are bound to jump on if Kyle isn’t stopped soon—and I’m sure Bob’s managed to exploit that during his negotiations about this operation.

“I’m going to make some dinner and settle down for the night,” I tell him.

“Sounds good. Don’t worry, the place is crawling with our boys...and a couple of our girls.” He’s trying to reassure me but I suspect he’s under a lot of pressure and needs reassuring himself.

“I’m fine Bob, I just need some sleep.” It was true, the rough night and hours of high emotions had finally caught up with me. “Night, Bob,” I finish before hanging up and putting my phone in my jeans pocket.

Wednesday, August 31st 2:50pm

Walking down to the creek I gather the shower bag I left heating on the rocks. Over the past two days, I’d formed a routine and I’d learned to have my shower before the scant warmth of the day gave way to the cold evening.

Scanning the rocks on the other side of the river, there’s still no sign of Kyle. My eyes track the escarpment— I can make out a couple of heads, but only because I’m looking for them. The Police operation had been tightly organised, but I wonder how much longer they’ll support the plan. I try not to contemplate the idea that Kyle might not be drawn out.

I shower and start to prepare my dinner. Opening the esky, I see that my plastic food containers are beginning to float in melted ice. I take my phone out to ring Bob. “What’s up, Doc?” Bugs Bunny has made a comeback.

“Bob. I’ll need to go into town tomorrow and get some supplies. Do you want to join me, or can I go it alone?” I ask.

Bob pauses for a moment, “Better to go it alone, I’ll follow along with backup to keep an eye on you.”

“Any sign of Kyle?” I can’t help but ask.

“You won’t like it, Doc, but he’s been spotted back in Melbourne.” I could hear Bob talking to someone else before he continues, “But like I said, this will take time. He’s a cunning bastard and I think we need to give this plan at least a couple of weeks,” he finishes.

“I agree. Listen I’d rather head off in the morning, okay?” We arrange a time for me to drive past the picnic area located on my way out, where he will begin to follow me into town.

After the call, I enjoy the tranquility of preparing my meal with nothing but the sounds of the bush around me. There’s no fear anymore. I’m excited to finally get my chance with Kyle.