Page 100 of Inferno

He shook his head grimly. “I think we’ve made all the progress we’re going to make.”

“I disagree.”

Stan frowned. “Listen—”

“We haven’t even tried hypnotherapy,” Dr. Gilliard blurted, an edge of desperation to her voice.

“Hypnotherapy?”Stan repeated skeptically. “You want tohypnotizeme?”

“I know it may sound farfetched, but hypnotherapy has been clinically proven to provide medical and therapeutic benefits. I’ve used hypnotic regression to successfully treat several patients who suffered from depression. By regressing them to their childhood, we were able to uncover traumatic memories of sexual and physical abuse.”

Stan scowled blackly. “I wasn’t abused. My parents loved me and my brother, and they took damn good care of us till the day they died.”

“I’m not suggesting that you were abused, Stan,” Dr. Gilliard hastened to assure him. “I’m merely offering an alternative method of treatment that we haven’t explored yet.”

Stan eyed her dubiously. “I don’t think I can be hypnotized.”

“We won’t know unless we try. Look, I know you’ve told me that the nightmares haven’t affected your job performance, but how much longer will that hold true? As a consultant to the police and fire departments, it’s my professional duty to ensure that my clients—be they cops or firefighters—don’t pose a threat to themselves or others. You’re up for a promotion to captain. At this point, I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be signing off on a psych evaluation for you.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed on hers. “Are you suggesting that I’m notfitto serve as captain?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Of course not!God, I wouldneversuggest anything like that! Everyone knows you’remorethan qualified to be promoted.” Dr. Gilliard sat forward in her chair, eyeing him intently. “I know what’s at stake for you, Stan, so I want to do everything in my power to help you. Let me try the hypnotherapy. Let’s see if we can get to the root cause of your nightmares.”

Stan wavered, a muscle throbbing in his jaw.

“Just give it a chance,” Dr. Gilliard gently implored. “If you still believe we’re wasting each other’s time, then I’ll respect your wishes to discontinue therapy.Deal?”

Stan regarded her silently for several moments,thenrelented with a brusque nod.

“Wonderful.” Dr. Gilliard beamed with pleasure, then smoothly uncrossed her legs and glided to her feet. “I’m going to close the blinds to make it a little less bright in here. I want you tolayback on the sofa and try to relax.”

Stan reluctantly complied as she strodetothe window. After a few seconds, the room was plunged into soft shadows. Closing his eyes, Stan listened to the doctor’s quiet footfalls moving across theorientalrug as she returned to her chair and sat down.

“You’re not relaxing, Stan,” she murmured chidingly.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel your tension from all the way over here. You’re thinking too hard. I want you to empty your mind of everything but this moment. What normally relaxes you?”

A soft smile touched his lips.“Prissy’s hands.”

Dr. Gilliard paused. “Oh?”

“Yeah.She gives the most amazing massages. Whenever I come home really stressed, she lays my head on her lap and massages my scalp, then turns me over and rubs my shoulders and back and—”

“I get the picture.”

Stan grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Dr. Gilliard muttered something under her breath.

Stan opened his eyes and glanced over at her. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”The doctor forced a bright smile. “Since your wife isn’t here to, ah, relaxyou,let’s try a different approach, shall we?”

Stan nodded, turning away.

“I want you to look up at that small water stain on the ceiling. Can you see it?”