Page 44 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
I manage a smile. “Nice try, but I’m too busy for that. I’m looking for Isabel.”
“She’s in the back, brewing.” Kendra sniffs the air. “Pale ale, if I’m correct.”
My stomach heaves even without me inhaling. The thought of beer—or coffee—has my tea threatening to come back up. My gut even churns when I catch a whiff of my beloved cookies.
“You really don’t look good,” Kendra says.
“Too many protein bars and not enough sleep. Make sure you don’t fall into the same trap. I appreciate everything you’ve been doing with the search, but look after yourself.”
“You, too,” she calls after me.
I duck around to a locked door and knock. “It’s Casey.”
When Isabel opens it, she sees me and blanches. Then she lowers her voice and says, “You found Max,” in a way that suggests we did not find him alive.
“No, no.” I wave around my face. “This is just how I look today. Run-down and feeling run over. I need to talk to Dana, and I’d like you to join me. It’s a tricky situation, and I value your professional opinion.”
“Also, both Eric and Will are out searching, so I’m next in line.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Let me finish up here first.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As we walk to Dana’s building, I tell Isabel about Louie’s accusations. She rolls her eyes and says, “Drug cartel. Obviously.”
Isabel has light brown skin. Some mix of backgrounds, like my own. In her case, the combinations aren’t obvious and, since she has never volunteered more, I don’t know more.
“I know,” I say. “Which means if it is a cartel, it’s only going to make things worse. Louie is convinced that her husband did something. I’m not asking your opinion on that—because it would be tainted by information you gained in therapy with Max. It’s none of my business whether they’re purely innocent or they made a mistake. Émilie judged them worthy, so they’re worthy. Whatever the parents did, the kids would always be worthy.”
“My opinion, which you didn’t ask for, is that it really was a case of witnessing something as innocent bystanders. Their only ‘mistake’ was refusing to keep quiet.”
“Okay. But there is still the faintest possibility that Max’s disappearance is connected to what happened to his parents. We know he saw his bear-man in the forest. We presume he went to investigate. That doesn’t mean he did go … or that if he did, there wasn’t someone else waiting to snatch him. Highly unlikely but…”
“Not impossible.”
“If that’s the case, then Max is being held as leverage over Dana, and she would have received a demand by now. So while it’s a long shot, I feel obligated to address it. If this is the case, I need Dana to confess so I can help her.”
“Which is where I come in.”
“A bit. This isn’t my first time doing something like this. I’m looking for any insights you can add, along with any advice. Oh, and I’d like you to be present at the interview to allay her concerns. I’m not questioning her story. I’m asking after anything that might help, but mostly I’m concerned about her well-being, which is why you’re coming along.”
“The real reason I’m coming along.” She gives me a hard look. “As a prop, not an advisor.”
“It’s fifty-fifty.”
Her eye roll disputes that percentage split. I explain my plan, and she doesn’t see any issues. She does give me a little insight into Dana—from their sessions, but nothing that could be construed as breaking confidentiality. Technically, there is no client-patient confidentiality in Haven’s Rock. If Mathias or Isabel or Kendra learns anything that raises concerns, they’ll bring it to us. That’s part of their job. This kind of isolation can cause psychological issues, and we need to be aware of any cracks immediately.
According to Isabel, Dana is struggling as much as one might expect. She puts on a brave face for her boys, but she’s grieving for her husband. She’s frustrated by her lingering injuries and how they impact her ability to do things with her boys, especially Max. Her son has discovered a love for the forest, and she needs to cajole Carson to join him on walks when she’d love to do so herself.
The pain meds are also a problem. Dana doesn’t want them. She’s afraid of addiction, leaving both April and Isabel playing nursemaid, urging Dana to take the meds.
“Is there any indication that she has a reason to fear addiction?” I ask carefully.
“Like from when her husband was part of a drug cartel and brought home oxy as an employee bonus?”
I sigh.
