She considered telling Glen but then realized he’d just worry, probably do something stupid like fly out just to sit outside the door waiting to pounce on the guy.
The decision to treat Jacob as any of her other clients was made. That still didn’t stop her from pacing the small office up until the minute he knocked on her door.
Her hands actually shook when she opened it and greeted him with a smile. “Good to see you, Jacob.” The lie wasn’t easy but needed to be said.
“Thanks for working me into your schedule.”
“No problem. Have a seat.”
Her office had a small love seat and two side chairs for her clients and the chair she sat in during the sessions. On one side of the room sat a desk that she used on occasion, but most of her work went home with her.
She sat across from him, placed her notepad in her lap, and waited.
He held a water bottle and continually twisted the cap.
“Nina’s leaving me. Left me.”
Mary acknowledged him with a soft smile.
“I guess you already knew that.”
“I still see Nina every week.”
“Yeah, she told me that. I’m guessing you know more about how she’s feeling than I do right now.”
“You know I can’t talk to you about what we discuss.”
Jacob twisted the cap off, took a drink. “You probably know what she’s been up to, why she’s so distant.”
It was time to divert his attention to his own feelings and break away from Nina’s. “How are you feeling about the split?”
“Like shit. It isn’t what I want. I was here, wasn’t I? Working on shit . . . all the shit we’ve swept under the carpet for years. We’d come here, dig it all up, fight about it for a week, and then come back for more.”
Mary couldn’t deny that had been their routine. Unfortunately all her advice in the world about her clients working on one thing at a time was seldom practiced outside of her office.
“It did feel as if you both had a lot of shit under that carpet to work through.” She used his words.
His nervous hands kept twisting the bottle. He drank the water almost as an afterthought. “Didn’t matter. You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think this was a distraction. This whole counseling crap was her way of showing me she wanted to stay in our marriage when she really didn’t. She’s having an affair, isn’t she?”
Keeping her face neutral was a task worthy of an Oscar. “What makes you believe she’s unfaithful?”
“You didn’t answer my question.” This was the part of Jacob that always made Mary uneasy. He didn’t get what he wanted out of the question and his eyes pinned her down as if she would break and spill every detail she had.
“Even if I knew about an affair from either one of you, you know I can’t discuss it.”
“The bitch . . . I knew she’d been fucked by someone else.”
Hearing the word she’d seen written on her mirror renewed the tremble in her hands.
“That is not what I said, Jacob.”
“You didn’t not say it either.” He stood with such force the couch hit the back of the wall.
Mary dropped her pen.
He pointed the water bottle in her direction. “I told her we needed a male counselor if this was going to work. No, she picked you. Someone she could have agree with her.”
“Jacob, please sit down. That’s not how it is.” Her voice wavered.
“I’m not a dog. I don’t sit when someone tells me to.”
He took another step toward her and Mary gripped the side of her chair to keep from backing into a corner. “You’re making me uncomfortable, Jacob. I’m going to have to ask you to calm down or leave.”
Jacob took another step toward her and she flinched. “I pay you to listen to me. You’ll listen.” He was yelling now.
“I need you to leave.”
Steam practically radiated off the man’s head. He stared at her for half a second, threw the water bottle he had in his hand at the opposite wall, and stormed out of her office.
Her heart kicked hard in her chest. It took ten minutes for her to stand, and when she did her hands shook to the point that when she reached out to close and lock the door, she couldn’t grip the knob.
“That wasn’t smart, Mary,” she scolded herself.
She waited until she was sure Jacob had time to leave the parking lot.
The water bottle sat empty beside the wall. She reached for it and stopped just short of picking it up.
The man was unstable, upset . . . blaming her, to some extent, for his failed marriage. She found a box of tissues and used one to pick up the bottle without smearing her fingerprints all over it. She set it on her desk and picked up her phone.
Officer Taylor’s phone went to voice mail.
“Hello, Officer Taylor. This is Mary Kildare. I have a name. A client.” This could destroy her career. Or this man could be the one who’d destroyed her home, and it was only a matter of time before he did more than yell at her and throw water bottles. “I also have something that has his fingerprints on it. I’m in need of your advice on how to proceed.” She left the message with her home phone number for the morning.
She hung up and put the officer’s card with her others before tucking it back in her purse.
Kent’s card sat below.
She called his cell number, hoping he was in his office.