He wasn’t ready to admit that he’d been wrong about Davina. The words stuck in his throat like a stray chicken bone.
“No problem.” Andy headed for the door. Obviously, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have either. “Listen,” he said as he opened the door. “Don’t let this get to you. Don’t let any of it get to you. We all make mistakes. We all get tired and our judgement gets screwed. It’s no big deal.”
Jack nodded, but it was a big deal. He couldn’t trust himself anymore. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. He was losing his mind. It might already have gone.
“Here.” He held up the folder.
“Keep it,” Andy said.
Jack turned away from his friend’s pitying look. He heard the door click shut behind Andy, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. This was it. Confirmation of everything everyone had been telling him – his instincts were off. They told him that he was seeing things where there was nothing. They told him that the Chief Superintendent was one of the good guys, not a likeable guy, but on the right side anyway. They told him he was losing the plot. And he didn’t listen. It never even occurred to him that they were right. He’d been convinced he was onto something. He’d dug up rumours. Picked at every tiny lead. He’d wound up everyone he talked to and had begun to piece together a picture of a dirty cop.
He sat down heavily. But it had all been in his head.
His hand fell on the manila folder.
Just like Davina’s drug empire.
Jack sat in the chair facing the court-appointed shrink and wondered why the guy didn’t have a couch in his office. Weren’t these guys supposed to have couches? Weren’t you supposed to stare at the ceiling and talk about your father issues?
“So, Jack, what brings you back? Last time we spoke you told me you couldn’t have burn out when you weren’t working. How did that go for you?”
The guy was so laid back Jack wasn’t sure if he was poking fun at him or not.
“It went great. I’m over the burn out.”
The little man rubbed the grey stubble on his chin. It looked like he was trying to mask a smile.
“So what’s the problem now?” the doc said in a calm reassuring voice that made Jack want to punch him.
“I think I’m going insane.”
“I don’t follow.”
He let out a long breath.
“Losing the plot. Saying bye bye to reality. Taking up residence in La-La Land.”
“I see.” The head-shrinker crossed his legs.
The man was wearing brown corduroy trousers – he was the one who needed help. If Jack wasn’t so worried about himself he’d have pointed that out.
“And what makes you think this?”
“Well.” Jack ran a hand over his head, briefly wondering if that was the reason his hair always stood on end. “It’s like this. I keep seeing crimes where, I’m told, there aren’t any. The thing is, every cell in my body knows I’m right.”
“I can see why you’re worried.”
“Yeah, I’ve dealt with enough nutters to know that they convince themselves of things all the time.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.” The little guy was smiling at him again.
“So how do I fix this?”
“Why don’t you tell me about the latest mistake first?”
That made Jack clench his teeth. He KNEW it wasn’t a mistake. H
ence the reason he was sitting in the shrink’s office baring his soul.