The Caller

Thirty-Six

Dr. Barnes checked her watch one more time.

‘Oh, screw this,’ she said under her breath.

She had had enough. She collected her belongings and placed everything back into her briefcase. She still didn’t want to go home, so she decided that she was going to do what she should’ve done a long, long time ago — drive herself to a different police station.

As she got up and turned to leave, the door to the interrogation room was finally pushed open by a tall and sturdy man. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a rugged face that gave her the impression that he hadn’t smiled in years. His clothes were clean, but scruffy, as if they had been slept in, and his hair was lank and uncombed.

‘Ms. Barnes,’ he said, offering his hand. His voice sounded as rough as his clothes looked. ‘I’m Detective Julian Webb. Pleased to meet you.’

She shook his hand, properly introducing herself as a doctor.

‘I’m terribly sorry for making you wait for such a long time, doctor. If I could’ve made it back here any earlier, I would’ve, but tonight, so far, I’ve attended two homicide scenes, and one gang rape.’

Dr. Barnes didn’t disguise her surprise.

‘Unfortunately,’ Detective Webb explained, ‘some nights, that’s just how this city rolls. If this is the City of Angels, God forbid I ever come across the City of Devils.’ He gestured towards the table. ‘Please...’

Dr. Barnes returned to the same seat she’d been occupying for the past hour. Detective Webb took the one across the table from her.

‘So, how can I be of any assistance?’ He interlaced his fingers together and placed his hands on the table in front of him.

The doctor studied the detective for a couple of seconds. He had the look of a man who was used to hard work and responsibility. She breathed in through her nose and slowly let it out through her mouth before beginning. She started with when she got to the underground parking lot.

‘And do you have this note with you?’ Detective Webb asked, reaching for his reading glasses, which were hanging from a cord around his neck.

Dr. Barnes placed the note on the table.

Detective Webb retrieved a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, gloved up and turned the envelope so it was facing him.

‘And you’ve said that you’ve never received one of these before?’ he asked.

‘This is the first one,’ she replied with a headshake.

‘And has anyone else other than yourself handled it?’

‘No.’

‘So since you’ve found this note no one else has touched it?’

‘No.’

Detective Webb opened the envelope and pulled out the note. The fact that whoever had created it had used cut-out letters and words didn’t seem to surprise him. He read it silently.

I bet that you never even noticed me standing right behind you as you picked up your copy of the LA Times from the newsstand, did you?

I must say, your hair smells different when you are awake.

After reading the note twice, Detective Webb’s eyes lifted in the direction of Dr. Barnes.

She was staring straight at him.

Webb pulled his reading glasses from his nose and let them fall loosely by his neck again.

‘When was the last time you picked up a copy of the LA Times from a newsstand, Doctor?’

‘This morning. I do it every morning just before getting to my office.’

‘And where is that?’

‘Downtown. West Ninth Street.’

The detective nodded. ‘Busy street. And did you notice anyone standing right behind you as you picked up the paper? I mean, anyone close enough to be able to smell your hair?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Think about it carefully now, Doctor. This morning, yesterday, maybe the day before?’

‘Believe me, Detective Webb, I’ve thought about it more carefully than you could imagine. I didn’t notice anybody standing behind me — this morning, yesterday, the day before, or any other day.’

Webb sat back on his chair and regarded the doctor for an instant. She was an attractive woman. Her midnight-black hair was perfectly styled into a short shaggy bob, with face-framing layers. Her eyes, which were just as dark as her hair, had a certain serenity to them that seemed contagious. Her whole presence somehow seemed very calming. Webb didn’t find it surprising that Gwen Barnes had chosen to become a psychotherapist.

‘Have you ever had any trouble with stalkers, Doctor?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘I can’t say I have.’ Her turn to regard him. ‘You don’t seem convinced.’

Webb shrugged. ‘We get tens of stalker complaints every year, Doc. I deal with several of them. The truth is — you check most of the boxes for the sort of target they go for.’

Dr. Barnes was quite surprised by the comment, but her expression showed nothing. ‘And what boxes are those?’

‘You’re an unmarried, very attractive woman, Doctor. You seem to have a great career—’

‘How do you know I’m unmarried?’ she cut him short.

Webb pouted his lips and raised his eyebrows as if asking — ‘Is that question for real?’

Dr. Barnes lifted her hands in surrender. For a moment she had forgotten where she was.

‘OK,’ Webb said. He knew that Dr. Barnes had had more than enough time to think about the scenarios surrounding that note. ‘Let me ask you a few quick questions, Doc. Do you think that this note could maybe have come from an ex-anything — husband, boyfriend, lover — someone who you’d had some sort of relationship with in the past? Maybe someone with whom the relationship didn’t end on very good terms?’

The doctor shook her head. ‘No ex-husband, and no. That’s all I’ve been thinking about since I found this note. And since I’ve been waiting here for several hours, I’ve thought about it hundreds of times. I can think of absolutely no one.’

‘Once again, I’m sorry about all the waiting.’ Webb’s tone was plain and sincere. He moved on. ‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

‘No, nobody.’

Webb nodded. ‘How about an ex-patient,’ he suggested.

‘Or maybe even a current one.’

Another shake of the head. ‘Nope. I thought about that too. I can think of no one who’d be capable of something like this.’

‘People are capable of things you just wouldn’t imagine, Doctor.’ Webb fumbled with his glasses. ‘Can you think of anyone at all that maybe would want to scare you, or... harm you?’

Dr. Barnes shrugged. ‘No, I can’t really think of anyone.’

Webb leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. ‘Would you like my truthful opinion, Dr. Barnes?’

‘No, not at all, just give me the bullshit, because that would be much more helpful.’

Webb just kept his eyes on her.

‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said, showing him her palms once again. ‘It’s been a very stressful day.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘And I’m hungry.’

‘No need to apologize, Doc. I understand.’

‘So what’s your truthful opinion?’

Webb looked at the note on the table one more time before his stare glided back to Dr. Barnes. ‘I think this is just a hoax, pure and simple. Someone pulling your leg. Maybe someone who you don’t even know. A practical joker. Someone who knows you’re a psychotherapist and could maybe overanalyze the note. Maybe this person works in the same building as you. Maybe he’s seen you around as you pick up your paper in the morning, I’m not sure. But I’d say that this...’ He nodded once. ‘You being here. You being scared. Is the exact reaction he wanted to get out of the joke. I’m very sorry to say, Dr. Barnes, but I think that you’ve wasted your time.’

To Detective Webb’s surprise, Dr. Barnes agreed with him. ‘That was exactly what I thought when I first read the note. I thought it was a joke and not a very good one, but then I noticed that there was something else inside the envelope.’

Webb frowned as his stare hopped back to the envelope on the table. ‘What else?’

She reached for the envelope, tipped it, and allowed whatever else was inside it to slide out on to the tabletop.