Page 25

Dana managedto occupy herself for exactly forty-five minutes after Dr. Dvita left. Her kitchen was spotless, and she’d successfully returned her bathroom to order after Jake’s hasty shower, but more importantly, she’d given Claire her space.

It was killing Dana not to go in and check on the girl, but she’d made herself wait what she deemed the appropriate amount of time. Not too long as to appear she didn’t care, but not too soon to show her worry. Though a glance in the mirror told Dana her face would instantly betray her concern.

Her glasses made her already doe-like eyes seem bigger than they were. And right now, they were two fathomless pits of worry. Deciding to switch to contacts, she pulled her hair back into a messy bun and washed her face. Hoping she now exuded an air of effortless ease, she took a deep breath and padded down the hall to knock on her guest bedroom door.

It turned out Dana’s primping was unnecessary. Because when Claire didn’t answer, Dana burst into the room like a tornado of panic.

Claire was in the room, but Dana’s relief at finding her there was short-lived. The girl sat on the edge of the tidy bed, her slight frame facing the window.

With Claire’s back to Dana, she had no idea if the girl was in another catatonic trance.

Dana whispered her name, hoping not to startle her. “Claire?”

Claire turned around. “Oh, sorry. Were you calling me? I must’ve been lost in thought.”

“No, it’s okay. I just knocked. I was going to make some lunch. Would you like to join me?”

“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Dana stood awkwardly in the bedroom, caught between being desperate to stay, yet eager to leave. She hated this new clumsiness between them. Dana missed the easy bond she and Claire had always shared.

From their first encounter, Dana felt they were kindred spirits. The approximate ten-year age difference had never really been a factor. They’d always been able to relate as colleagues, women, and friends.

But ever since returning from her book tour last year, Dana found their relationship strained.

It worsened when Dana was forced to lie to Claire during her last FBI case, and further still when she recommended Claire be admitted to rehab.

It didn’t seem to matter that everything Dana had done was in Claire’s best interest. Somehow, their relationship had been altered, and Dana feared there was no going back. She’d gone from mentor and friend to caretaker and pseudo-parent.

Dana felt equipped for neither. But sadly, Claire had no one else. A fact made evident by the lack of interest her parents continued to show. They’d yet to return any of the phone calls or messages Dana left for them last night.

It made Dana even more desperate to connect with Claire. She hated thinking they’d be forever stuck in this limbo. She wanted her friend back.

Letting herself find hope in Dr. Dvita’s words had been a mistake. Claire may have described Dana as a mentor and friend, but actions were louder than words.

Hesitant to push Claire beyond her comfort level, Dana began backing out of the bedroom. “Feel free to help yourself to any of my clothes. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Claire’s voice stopped her. “Dana. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do.” Claire walked slowly around the bed to face Dana. “I don’t know what it looks like when I’m under hypnotherapy, but I can remember how it feels. And if it looks half that bad, then I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Dana took a tentative step closer. “Claire, are you comfortable continuing to see Dr. Dvita, because I can help you find someone else.”

“Dr. Dvita is fine.”

“Are you sure? When I first told you he was coming here you acted like you were afraid of him.”

She nodded. “It’s hard to explain. Like I said, I don’t exactly remember what I’m going through when I’m under hypnosis, but my body does. I have this involuntary response every time I see him. Like fight or flight. I want to run, but I know I need to stay and fight if I’m going to get better. Does that make sense?”

Dana absorbed Claire’s description. “It does. I just want you to know that if at any point you don’t like Dr. Dvita’s approach or his treatment becomes too much for you, we can look for someone new.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stick with him. I feel like I’m making progress, and if I start with a new doctor I’ll be starting over again.” Claire sank down onto the bed, sitting again, like she no longer possessed the strength to stand. “I’ve been in a dark tunnel for so long. I just want to be on the other side already.”

“You’ll get there, Claire.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

Dana’s heart went out to the girl. Without thinking, she went to sit on the bed next to her, but Claire flinched away the moment Dana touched her. “Sorry,” Dana muttered, retreating to the door to give the girl some space. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Dana busied herself chopping vegetables, but it left her mind idle enough to ponder if Claire really would get better. It’d been months since she nearly OD’d and, in some ways, Claire seemed worse than ever.

After admitting Claire to rehab, Dana spent countless nights reading about the lasting effects of heroin use. She wished she could stop her analytical mind from recalling them, but the facts resurfaced unbidden.

Changes in the physical structure and physiology of the brain were the most concerning.

Deterioration of the brain’s white matter.

Irreversible imbalances in decision-making abilities.

Irregular behavior and responses to stressful situations.

Then there was insomnia, memory loss, depression, and antisocial personality disorders.

Today, Dana had seen Claire exhibit almost every single symptom.

Claire had always been guarded with her personal space, especially when it came to physical touch. But over the years, she’d seen the girl blossom socially. Especially when it came to Dana and Jake. But in the short time she’d been at rehab, Claire had gone from hugging Dana to flinching away from her touch again.

It fit within the parameters of Dr. Dvita’s diagnosis, but there was something immensely sad about being unable to comfort her friend.