Page 14 of The Last Session

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“Thea?”

Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes to see Dom.

“You didn’t make it to bed, huh?” She glanced at the two empty beer cans.

“No.” My head pounded like I was slamming it against the wall. I pulled myself up into a seated position. The movement activated my stomach, which started to churn.

“Ho-ly shit.” Dom straightened. “You got crunk last night, huh?” She chuckled and went to the kitchen.

“You could say that.” I watched her through slitted eyes. She was wearing the same clothes as the night before but seemed clean and chipper. “You seem… not hungover.”

“Oh, I am.” She handed me a large glass of water. “Amelia and I went back to her place and drank tequila, for some reason. What happened with that guy?”

I took a tiny sip and leaned back against the cushions. “He claimed to have a family emergency and left.” Memories of the night poured in, and I remembered with a twist of guilt how I’d spilled information about Catherine to try to get him to stay. Sure, the public knew she was at the hospital, but I shouldn’t have shared details. I never would have, sober.

“That’s too bad.” She stood. “I’m going to bed. Thank God my first client isn’t until four.”

“What time is it?” I jolted up.

“Nine thirty.”

“What?” I grabbed my phone off the coffee table; it was dead, so the alarm hadn’t gone off. I stood, groaned, and sat down again. “Oh my god, I feel like shit.”

“Take it easy.” Dom paused in her doorway. “Can’t you just call in sick?”

“Catherine’s parents are coming this morning. I have to see her before she leaves.” Staggering to the bathroom, I turned on the shower and stepped into the hot, stinging water.

I got ready in record time and hurried to the subway. On the way I convinced myself that she’d still be there, that surely Catherine and her parents would have to spend time coordinating with Diane before they left.

A police car waited outside the entrance, which sent a cold chill over my shoulders.

Something bad had happened.

I raced into the lobby, wincing at my throbbing headache. No police here, which meant they must be inside.

“What’s going on?” I called to Hazel.

She paused in her texting. “You’d better talk to Diane.”

Diane’s door was closed, but through the window I could see her leaning forward, intent on the couple across from her. From his bright red hair and her blond, it was clear who they were.

Killian and Lissette O’Brien. Catherine’s parents.

Two officers stood next to them. One was talking to Diane, whose lips pressed together.

Oh no .

I rushed to the break room. Amani and Rachel talked in low tones by the coffeepot.

“What happened?” I cried. “Is she okay?”

“Where were you this morning?” Rachel asked, her face drawn.

“I overslept. Where’s Catherine?”

“We don’t know.” Amani shook her head. “She left with her parents. Well… we thought they were her parents.”

“What?” The words weren’t computing. “But her parents are in Diane’s office.”

“Her real parents,” Rachel said. “Yeah.”

At my confused expression, Amani held up a hand. “So this couple showed up early, like at eight, and said they were Catherine’s parents. And she went with them. Her real parents came at ten, and Diane had to tell them that she’d already left. It took a minute to figure out what was going on.”

“Who were the first couple?” I asked.

“No one knows.” Amani shrugged. “Except Catherine, I guess.”

I thought suddenly of Clint, the “therapist” whose number I’d given to Catherine. But he’d looked to be younger, in his thirties. It couldn’t have been him.

“No one knows what her parents look like?” I couldn’t keep the exasperation from my voice. “They’re famous.”

“Thea, I didn’t even know who Catherine was. Not until you showed me pictures.” Amani shook her head. “They said they were her parents, and they had IDs.”

“It is weird, though,” Rachel mused. “If she didn’t want to leave with her parents, why didn’t she just check herself out?”

“So she knew the—the impersonators,” I said.

Rachel nodded. “Seemed like it.”

Catherine had gone through something, some ordeal that had triggered psychosis, mutism, and amnesia. Had the people who’d shown up been somehow involved?

The shock was beginning to shift into something else, something darker. I shivered despite the warm, stuffy room.

“She asked for you.” Rachel’s expression was curious, maybe even a little sad. “She said she wanted to tell you something. I told her you weren’t in yet.”

Dread filled my chest. Had she wanted me to help her? Had she known these people were coming for her?

If I’d come into work this morning as usual, would I have been able to save her?