'Get out of here. That's my AA.'
'I'm not messing around here,' Dupre said as he jumped into his car. Rittenhouse arrived as Dupre drove away.
'You okay, Senator?' he asked, watching the car as it sped down the driveway.
'I'm fine,' Travis answered, but his voice was shaky.
'Who was that?' Rittenhouse asked.
'Forget about it, Carl. It's not important.'
'You're sure?'
'I'll be fine.'
The incident bothered Carl, and after saying good-bye to the senator he jotted down the license number of the Porsche on the back of one of his business cards. In the meantime, Senator Travis left the Westmont. As soon as he could, he parked on a side street and punched in a number on his cell phone. He was sweating badly and his fingers trembled. When the person on the other end answered, Travis said, 'We've got a problem.'
Chapter Eight.
Two years ago, Amanda had represented Alan Ellis, a banker who'd been falsely accused of sexual molestation by a foster child. Eventually, the charges had been dismissed, but not before the banker had lost his job, his wife, his house, and most of his savings. Amanda was certain that her client was contemplating suicide, so she had asked around for the name of a psychiatrist who was competent and compassionate.
Ben Dodson's office was across from the library on the fourth floor of an eight-story medical building. Dodson was slender, with a dark complexion, and looked younger than forty-two. Granny glasses magnified the psychiatrist's blue eyes, and he wore his black hair almost to his shoulders. He stood up and flashed a ready smile when Amanda walked into his cozy office.
'It's good to see you again. How is Alan doing?'
'Last I heard, he was working for a bank in Rhode Island,' Amanda said as she took a seat. 'You really helped him.'
Dodson shook his head. 'I hope I never go through a tenth of what that poor bastard suffered. So, what brings you here? Have you got someone else for me to work with?'
Amanda had practiced what she was going to say in her apartment, in her office, and during the walk to Dodson's office, but now that she was here the words stuck in her throat. Dodson saw her distress and stopped smiling.
'Are you okay?'
Amanda didn't know how to answer the psychiatrist. She wasn't crazy, she felt fine most of the time. Maybe she'd made a mistake coming here.
'Pretty dumb question, huh?' Dodson said. 'If you were okay you wouldn't be here. You want to tell me what's bothering you?'
Amanda still could not look at Dodson. 'It's . . . it's stupid, really.'
'But powerful enough for you to walk across town in the rain during your lunch hour. So, why don't you tell me about it.'
Amanda thought about Toby Brooks and her nightmares and the flashbacks to the tunnel. It all seemed so silly in Dodson's office. Everyone gets scared, and she certainly had a good reason for her bad dreams.
'I'm probably wasting your time.'
'I'm not doing much right now, so that's okay.'
Amanda felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She hadn't felt this embarrassed since she'd made a fool of herself in her first trial.
'A week or so ago, I was at the Y, the YMCA. I work out there. Anyway, I was swimming and this man came over. He . . . he was very handsome, about my age. He seemed nice.'
Amanda's voice caught. Dodson waited patiently while she gathered herself.
'I panicked. I was terrified. I couldn't breathe.'
She stopped, feeling utterly ridiculous.
'Has that ever happened to you before?' Dodson asked. His tone was calm and nonjudgmental, but Amanda didn't know what to tell him.
'Do you have any idea why you became so frightened?' Dodson asked when Amanda did not answer his question. She felt panicky now. She wanted to bolt. 'Amanda?'
'I might.'
'Can you tell me?' Dodson asked softly.
'How much do you know about what happened to me last year?'
'I read the stories in the papers and it was on TV. The surgeon who tortured those women attacked you.'
It felt very hot, very close in Dodson's office, and that made her remember the tunnel. She stood up.
