GOOD MAN TURNED BAD?
Chapter 4
Cecile Fournier lived in, and practised from, a smart beachfront condo. Horatio thought cynically that there was obviously good money in psycho-therapy. He had overcome his nerves. In fact, while keeping the appointment out of courtesy, he was prepared to say that it wasn't for him, and withdraw graciously. Calleigh wouldn't be pleased, but it wasn't up to her. He had slept surprisingly well the previous night - it was amazing what a good night's sleep did. While he could hardly say he felt like his old self, he certainly felt better than he had for a while. Typical… It was like making an appointment at the dentist, only to have the toothache disappear.
Cecile was a tall immaculately-groomed woman, with an unmistakeable air of French chic. In person, her voice owed more to New York than Paris, but it was warm and mellow, as was her smile as she invited him in. She had short grey hair, but looked closer to her fifties than her sixties. Horatio felt a moment's guilt at his 'old woman' thoughts.
He followed her inside, accepting her offer of a coffee, and a seat on the balcony.
"Beautiful day…"
"It is," she agreed, sipping her coffee, but seeming in no hurry to begin their consultation.
"Cecile… I have to say… I'm not sure about this."
She smiled. "Very few of my clients have started out willingly. Don't worry. Today, we're just going to get to know each other a little."
They talked in general terms, as any two strangers might. He learnt that she was divorced, had lived in Miami for five years, had intended to retire.
"I can't imagine retiring," he said. "Though they may make me."
"Not yet, surely?"
"I'm fifty-five. Feel older sometimes."
If she was questioning him, she was very subtle, and it was odd that he didn't mind. He felt surprisingly comfortable with this intelligent sophisticated woman. It was only towards the end of their time that she asked gently, "Do you feel able to tell me what brought you here? And is it voluntary, or have your superiors sent you?"
He sighed. "It's voluntary, I suppose. My superiors don't know anything about it. As to why… I hardly know where to start…"
She remained silent.
"I suppose… I'm depressed. But that's too simplistic… I'm in a job I used to love…"
"But not any more?"
"Not at the moment. My whole focus has gone. Everything that used to make it worthwhile seems to have vanished… I have the most wonderful team of people round me, and I'm letting them down…"
She nodded. "And why now? Why look for help now?"
He chuckled. "Calleigh - Miss Duquesne - pushed me into it. No, that's not fair… She made me face things I've been avoiding…" His expression turned somber. "She made me face the fact that I won't have a job, or even a life, if things don't change."
"What's your relationship with Calleigh?"
"She's my second-in-command. We've worked together for about ten years. Wonderful criminalist… And a dear friend… We're not romantically involved, if that's what you mean."
"I didn't mean that. Just asking."
"I suppose that's what you do… 'ask'…"
"Not really. Very little, in fact. You'll do the talking. If you want to do this."
"I don't think I'll be any good at it."
"Because you're a man? More than that, a senior police officer? Not used to revealing anything as personal as your feelings?" Her voice was gentle, her tone sympathetic. "You won't find it easy, I know that… But I do feel I can help you, if you'll let me."
"I don't know…"
"There are alternatives. Your doctor could put you on anti-depressants. I doubt they'll do you much good, though they might take the edge off the pain."
"Pain?"
"Wrong word?"
"Not really. Plenty of people take anti-depressants - they must work."
"For some they do. But they are, literally, mind-numbing. I believe the effect on an intelligence like yours would be… detrimental, to say the least. If they worked at all. They don't work for everyone."
He nodded. "I don't want to go down that road."
"Good."
He was silent for a while, then said, "So you think you can help me?"
"I think it's worth exploring. Don't you?"
He nodded slowly.
"You do realise I can't wave a magic wand… I only wish I could…"
"I know that. So what happens now?"
"We'll meet, a couple of times a week. We'll drink coffee. We'll talk."
"About?"
"Whatever you want. Your job, I would think, to begin with… The good things… And the bad… I'll merely guide you."
"That's all?"
"At first. It's not an exact science."
He smiled. "Shame. I'm used to exact science." He drew a deep breath. "OK. Let's do it."
"We have one or two… not rules… More like promises. I promise that anything that happens here stays confidential - I don't record our sessions; I do make notes, afterwards, but they're kept securely. From you, I want a promise to try to be truthful…"
"Of course."
"Don't say it so easily. We may go into areas where the truth is buried so far down, you've forgotten it. You may have embellished the truth with a more acceptable version - more acceptable to you, or others… Sometimes truths are just too painful… That's what we're going after. When you hit those barriers - and you will - I don't want to hear the 'revised' version. If you can't or won't tell me something, just say so. I'd rather have silence than something false."
"I'll try."
"I know you will. Most of all, Horatio, you have to trust me. I can cope with your reactions - you can cry, yell at me, refuse to answer… I'd rather you didn't break the furniture, but that aside… I will help you." They stood up, and she walked him to the door. "We'll meet next week. If you need me in the meantime, you have my number."
Horatio drove back to the lab, feeling, for the most part, relieved. Relieved that the first step was taken, and that Cecile Fournier was not at all what he had been expecting. Even relieved that he was going to be able to share what he was struggling with. He realised it needed to be a stranger. There was no way he could drop his defenses with anyone else, even Calleigh. He seriously doubted he could drop them at all. Thirty-odd years in law enforcement, facing constant death and destruction, had, inevitably, given him a coping mechanism that would be very hard to disengage. Even now… Yes, his self-confidence was a bit shaky, he wasn't exactly happy, but he was still, he knew, phenomenally tough.
He still had to take a steadying breath to walk through the main doors, not knowing who he was going to meet, but, as it was, the reception area was empty. He met Eric by the elevator.
"Hey, boss…" His colleague sounded cheerful.
"You're happy. New girlfriend?"
"No, nothing like that. You remember that Jane Doe, on the beach…?"
"That might have been natural causes?"
Eric nodded. "Well, it's not. Tom and I had time to do some more work on her… We think it was murder… Suffocation."
"Good job, Eric." He smiled. "Now all you have to do is identify her and catch the killer. Keep me posted… I'll come down a bit later…"
He went to his office and called Calleigh. "Got a minute?"
As she joined him, he said, "I wanted you to know, I've seen your shrink… I can't keep calling her that… Cecile…"
"What did you think?"
"I liked her. I'm going to give it a try." He hesitated. "Calleigh… Leverbrook - tell me what's happening."
"I told you -"
"You're handling it, I know. I'm still the boss, Calleigh - I don't expect to be shielded. Tell me."
"Well, I told a little fib…"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Leverbrook's man was talking police brutality… I talked to the DA… I had to tell him you were away, and I was in charge."
"Go on."
"I think we've worked out a deal. No police brutality claim, and if he's found guilty - which he will be - no death penalty…"
"Calleigh… You didn't need…"
"I knew you wouldn't do it. You'd feel you had to take the rap. And… I thought… you've got enough to deal with at the moment."
He laughed briefly. "I don't know what to say. Other than thank you. I can't say I'm not relieved."
Her face straightened. "Don't be too relieved. Natalia isn't proving so easy."