Page 30 of Fatal Betrayal

He wondered how she dealt with the kids who didn't come home, the failures she'd alluded to. He couldn't imagine they would be anything but crushing for her.

The traffic thickened in front of them, and she tapped the brakes. "It's going to take forever to go a few miles," she muttered.

"No more speed for you," he said lightly.

"I need the speed for more than me," she returned. "Every second counts in a kidnapping case."

"How do you handle it?" he asked curiously. "When a child doesn't come home. What do you do to handle disappointment, the failure?"

"Well, I don't talk to psychologists," she said tersely.

"Why not? Are you against therapy?"

"I just don't think it works for me."

"How would you know if you've never tried it?"

"I tried it. My mom made me go to a therapist after the divorce, when she moved me to Chicago and wanted me to be super happy about all the changes in my life. It didn't help at all. The woman was a hundred years old, and we couldn't connect on any level. She kept telling me I needed to exercise more, like she thought I could outrun my problems."

"You didn't go to the right person."

"Probably not, but I don't know who would have been that person."

"Someone you would respect. You never had much tolerance for people you didn't respect."

"Does anyone?" she challenged. "Tolerating idiots is a waste of time."

He laughed. "Not everyone is an idiot who thinks differently than you."

"I know that, but this woman was just phoning it in. She wasn't even trying. That's what I really respect, Cooper—effort. It's not intelligence or what job title someone has or how much money they make, it's how hard they try, the energy they bring to whatever they're doing. I don't think that's too much to ask for."

"No, it's not," he admitted.

"Do you see patients? It doesn't seem like you have the time or the focus for that."

"I was part of a clinical practice the first two years of my career, but I was more interested in other things."

"Like books and podcasts and docuseries."

"Yes," he said unapologetically. "I felt like those pursuits would help me make a bigger impact on changes I feel are important in the study of criminal behavior and the justice system. I don't treat patients, but I have talked to hundreds of people in the last several years. I get my hands dirty. I hear it all, the good, the bad, the horrific, and the unimaginable."

She shot him a questioning look. "And how do you handle all that?"

"I actually run and work out a lot," he said with a smile. "Exercise is good for mental health. But I also have gotten better at compartmentalizing, at seeing the whole of a person, not just the worst part or the best part of them."

"You always tried to do that. But not everyone who says they are innocent is innocent."

"I'm not stupid, Andi. I'm very aware of the ability some people have to lie very well. But there are also people who have paid a terrible price for someone else's mistake. And if I don't help right that wrong when I see it, then what's the point of all the knowledge I've gained?"

"Helping those people is not a bad thing, but you still won't get Kyle back."

Her words hit a nerve. "I know that. But someone else will get their Kyle back."

"That's true," she said, sighing as the traffic in front of them stopped once more. "Do you think you would have become a psychologist if Hannah hadn't been kidnapped, if Kyle hadn't been accused?"

"No. I would have tried to be a professional baseball player."

She smiled. "You were a great pitcher. What was that pitch you used to throw that everyone raved about?"