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CHAPTER 26

DR. GREENE SAID, “LINDSAY, I’ve said this before. You have many of the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. Look, PTSD is common enough among homicide cops.”

“So, if that’s true, what now?”

He said, “Talk therapy is recommended. But so are antidepressants. Have you ever been on SSRIs before?”

“No. Prozac, right? I’ve never taken it.”

“Lindsay,” said Dr. Greene, “have you given any more thought to what we’ve talked about before? Maybe transferring to a different job or putting in for early retirement?”

I imagined working behind a desk in the booking department. No solving homicides for me. I imagined resigning from my job entirely. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought of this. I pictured myself sitting in my cozy Mom’s chair at home after doing the breakfast dishes and taking my daughter to the bus, then watching daytime TV and later picking Julie up from school—but that wasn’t me. That was the death of me.

“Dr. Greene. I’m not ready to quit Homicide. I have a killer to find right now. I would be more miserable if I were sidelined. How about we resume regular sessions but put off the discussion about medications off for a while, until I can …”

“Until you can what, Lindsay?”

“Until I can make a decision about whether they’ll help or hinder me to be the person I am.”

He looked at me with compassion. “Sure. Of course we can give it some more time. But you know talk therapy is not an absolute cure for grief, night terrors, the shakes.”

I thought about the sleepless nights, the rocky rubble of fear I might have to climb over on my way to the next murder scene.

I nodded.

“But I need a promise from you,” he said. “If your depression gets worse …”

“I’ll tell you and I’ll ask for a leave of absence.”

“And you should tell Joe.”

“That I have PTSD?”

“Yes.”

I said I’d think about it, stood up, and, to my surprise, Dr. Greene stood up, too. He stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder. I heard him say, “Breathe, Lindsay.”

I did it without breaking into tears.

Dr. Greene patted my back. He told me again that he was sorry about Jacobi, and to please call if I needed him.

I said I would. I found my car and pointed it toward home.