Page 33 of The Attercop

“It’s not the cleaners,” Michael replied. “I do my own cleaning to save money. I suppose the movers would have been in there. Could it have been one of those guys?”

“Maybe.”Damn. Why is nothing simple?

Michael continued. “Aside from that, patients are the only ones that have been in the consulting room other than me.”

“And have any of your patients lately given off a strange vibe?” Declan asked. “Or has anybody been asking about me in your sessions?”

Michael laughed. “Quite an ego you’ve got there. The answer’s no. And even if they had, I couldn’t tell you. There’s that whole thing about doctor–client confidentiality.”

There was a pause at the end of the line.

“There is one thing, maybe,” Michael said. “I had a new client in last week, and the encounter seemed a bit off.”

“You’re a therapist, Michael. Aren’t your patients supposed to be a bit off?”

“This was different. There was something in his eyes. It’s hard to put into words. Anyway, he didn’t show up for his appointment today and when I called to see if there was a problem, the number he gave me was for a florist shop. I asked them if they had a person by my client’s name working there, and they said they’d never heard of him.”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he broke into your place,” Declan said.

“No. But he came in for his initial session the day of the break-in and, like I said, something about him seemed off.”

“Do you have a name?” Declan asked.

“Technically, I can’t give you that information.”

“Can you hold on a second. I’m going to text you a picture. Tell me if it looks like your client.”

Declan located the photo of Angel’s assailant and forwarded it.

“Got it,” Michael said. “I don’t think it’s the same guy, but it’s a bit hard to tell.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy I saw wore a face mask—possibly he was a germophobe, or maybe just cautious.”

“What else can you tell me about him?”

“He was white, tallish…maybe around six-feet and wore cheap glasses. He had a short ponytail.”

“What did you talk about?” Declan asked.

“Mostly his fears. He was having nightmares about spiders. It seemed he was afraid of a lot of things. He wanted to pay for the appointment in cash—he said it was safer. Said he didn’t want his spending habits to be traced by Big Brother.”

“Anything else?”

“He was a bit twitchy,” she said. “He was looking around the room quite a bit.”

“Have you gotten around to changing the security system yet?”

“I did that right away,” Michael said. “And nothing else particularly strange has happened since then, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this guy was playing me for a fool.”

“Well, if you see him again,” Declan said, “or the person in the photo I sent, get a hold of me right away.”

“Everything all right, Declan?”

“Just the usual. Take care.”

Declan disconnected.