Behind His Walls Read online

  Behind His Walls

  B.L. Mooney

  Copyright © 2015 B.L. Mooney

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Robin Harper from Wicked By Design

  Cover photo from Perrywinkle Photograpy

  Models Adam Spahn and Emma Longley

  Edited by Paige Maroney Smith

  Interior Formatting by Integrity Formatting

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by B.L. Mooney

  “Dr. Hatcher?” The receptionist, Elizabeth Cole, opened the door just enough to peek her brunette head into my office.

  I continued writing for a moment, but glanced her way. “Yes? You may come in. I’m just finishing up.”

  “I was going to head home for the weekend. Do you need anything before I leave?”

  “Thank you. No, I’ll be leaving soon, as well.” I stopped writing and gave her my full attention. “Have a great weekend, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you. You, too.” She closed the door behind her.

  I had seen my last client for the week and was finishing up the notes from the appointment. It was a good session, and I was proud of the progress my client was making. It was never easy to face a hurtful past, but it was necessary for one to move forward.

  I stood to put the file away and turned at the sound of the doorknob moving. The door was opened just a little to unlatch it, but didn’t move beyond that. I shut the drawer after putting the file in place and started for the door just as it swung open with an extended foot coming into the room.

  I couldn’t see who was behind the brown sacks in her arms, but the long legs covered in black stockings with black stiletto heels attached to them told me all I needed to know.

  “Lindsey, what on Earth are you doing?” I rushed to help her and took a few sacks so she could see where she was going. She was a beautiful woman, no matter what she looked like, but at that moment, her face showed the frustration she was feeling.

  Lindsey Perkins was the psychologist who shared office space with me. We each had our separate practices, but we thought it would be best to share the costs of space and staff.

  Her perfectly groomed eyebrows were pulled together, and her bright red lips were pursed. Her eyes were normally a bright blue, but they were dark and angry just as she was at the moment. Even her brown hair seemed a bit darker to match her attitude. There was definitely a cloud over her that day.

  There was a coffee table between my chair and the sofa the clients sat on. I used it as a place to put water and tissues, but more importantly, to put some distance between the clients and me. I watched as she unloaded the rest of what she had carried in onto the table.

  She sat down with a huff. “Please tell me you don’t have dinner plans, and you’re starving.”

  I walked over and placed the two large sacks I took from her next to the coffee table and took my usual seat across from my clients. “What is all of this?”

  She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands. “I called my favorite place and ordered the usual. They must have hired new help because they didn’t know me or my usual.” She looked up and met my eyes. “So then I told the new girl on the phone to just send the last thing I ordered. I forgot I catered a meeting here last week.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that she made the mistake. Anyone could’ve done that. It was the fact that she brought the mistake to me when she could’ve just as easily hidden it. No one would’ve known about it. Lindsey prided herself on not making mistakes. Rarely would you have heard her say she regretted anything. Everything was thought out with meticulous and careful planning.

  I stopped smiling, sat up, and narrowed my eyes. I’d only seen her flustered one other time when her father was ill. If something was troubling her, I wanted to make sure she was okay. I sat forward and grabbed a sack to look through. “Thank you for dinner. I am starving, actually.”

  She motioned to the rest of the sacks. “Well, it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.” She sat back, pressed her knees together, and covered her face. “Please tell me you can freeze Chinese takeout.”

  “I honestly don’t know.” I looked at my watch. “Let’s just enjoy dinner and take the rest of it down by the bridge when we’re finished. If you have your receipt, maybe you can use it as a charitable tax deduction. We could also talk about work and write it off as a business expense if you’d prefer that route.”

  She lifted her head and crossed her arms. It took a minute of thought, but she started nodding. “Yes, let’s take it down by the bridge. They should all be getting in around then.”

  I knew the food wouldn’t go to waste down at the homeless camp. I also knew it would make Lindsey feel better about her mistake. She was always one for turning a negative into a positive. The fact she hadn’t thought of that on her own was another reason of concern. I was happy to see her dig through the sacks for her dinner, though. At least her appetite was back.

  “How was your day today?” I looked at the spread before us. “I mean aside from this.”

  She blew out a breath between her pursed lips to move her hair out of her face that had fallen. “It was fine.”

  Fine. That was not a word she used often. She had quite the vocabulary and even taught me a word or two with some of her answers. Fine was not a good sign.

  “Tell me about it.”

  She finally found the dinner she wanted and sat back with her container and plastic utensils in hand. “There really isn’t anything to tell. I came in and did some paperwork this morning, had my usual Friday list of clients, and had planned on staying late to finish up some more paperwork tonight.”

  “Had planned on?” I put my dinner down and got up to get water for us. “You’re not staying now?”

  “No.” She used her fo
rk to point to the food. “We’re taking this down to the bridge instead.”

  “We?” I chuckled. “I guess I’m not staying late, either.”

  “Yes, we. You volunteered, after all.” She reached up and took the glass I offered her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I suppose I did say that we would do it. I really wouldn’t want you to go down there after dark alone.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t think I can handle myself?”

  “No one should go down there alone. They may be good people who were dealt a bad hand, but sometimes those hands get so bad it turns good people into desperate people.”

  “Agreed. So what does the rest of your weekend look like?” She was avoiding any discussion of her day. I’d let her for a little while, but we’d get back to it soon.

  “I’m not really sure. How about you?”

  “I have nothing planned. I can be certain I won’t have Chinese food.” She sighed as she looked at the food and took another bite.

  I chuckled. “You’ll call for your favorite again next week.”

  “You’re probably right. I just hope someone who knows me answers the phone.” She stabbed whatever was in her container with her fork and sighed again.

  “You seem frustrated tonight.” I pointed to her container when she gave me a puzzled look.

  She looked down and shrugged. “You’re right. I think anyone would be after ordering so much food.” She looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Analyze me. I’m allowed to be frustrated. I’m allowed to have an off day.”

  “I never meant—”

  She started packing up the food she had taken out to find her dinner. “You’re welcome to take anything you think you may eat this weekend, but I’m heading down to the bridge.”

  “Lindsey—”

  “No, Joseph. Don’t analyze me. Don’t treat me like a client. I deserve more than that.”

  “I’m concerned, but I would never treat you like a client.”

  She stood to grab a couple of sacks, but crossed her arms instead. “How do you think you treat me?”

  “I would say a colleague. I’m genuinely concerned about your well-being. You seem a little distracted. Honestly, you’ve seemed distracted all day.”

  “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping the best, and I need to get some sleep. So, with that, I now know how I’ll spend my weekend—in bed.” She took a couple of sacks in each hand and walked out with her head held high. It seemed I had offended her.

  I walked to the elevator, determined to get that man out of my mind. He only viewed me as a colleague. Deep down, I already knew. I thought I had at least made the short list of friends, but I didn’t even rank that. Colleague. I scoffed.

  It wasn’t as if I had expected him to say a close friend or even girlfriend, but a colleague felt one step above an acquaintance. I knew I felt more for him than he felt for me, but I thought with the dinners after work or the occasional movie we’d see, it meant that we were at least friends. If all I was to him were a colleague, I’d never get past friendship with him, no matter how hard I tried.

  I cursed the slow elevator and looked at the doorway to the stairs. I was too exhausted to use those. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few nights, and it was starting to catch up with me.

  The elevator door finally opened, and I stepped inside. As I turned to push the button to the garage, Joseph entered with the remaining two sacks. He wouldn’t look at me, but did take the sacks out of my hand closest to him. It was sexist, but I let him carry more than me.

  He waited until the elevator moved before he spoke. “I don’t apologize until I know what I’m apologizing for, but as soon as I figure out what I’ve done wrong, I will apologize.”

  “Oh, Joseph, you didn’t do anything wrong. Perception is just as skewed as opinions, and everyone’s is different.” I stepped off the elevator and walked to my car.

  “I think we should take one car.”

  I stopped and turned to him. “That means we have to come back here to pick up your car before we go home and put this day behind us.”

  Joseph was a handsome and mature man. He wasn’t a young stud with ripped abs who felt the need to flex them at each girl he came in contact with. His brown hair was dusting with gray at the temples, and the lines around his eyes that showed up when he smiled as big as he was doing right then were one of the few things that let me know what he was feeling.

  He always kept his psychologist face on and never let anyone in. However, when he did show just the tiniest crack, I hoped the door would continue to open a little more each time. He was a man I would’ve proudly chosen to spend my life with had I not been deemed the “colleague” and constantly had that door slammed shut in my face.

  “I don’t mind bringing you back to your car.” His smile was still huge. He was teasing me.

  “Well, that’s nice of you to offer, but it won’t be necessary because we’ll be in my car bringing you back to yours.”

  He tilted his head to the side and nodded. “You’re right. We should take yours.” He started walking toward my car. “After all, they don’t get to see a car as fancy as this one every day. Why let the food be the only treat they get?”

  “Fine!” I started walking to his car. “You’ve proven your point. I don’t want anything missing when we get back to it.”

  It wasn’t that my car was as fancy as he was trying to let on, but he was right in thinking those who wouldn’t appreciate the food would’ve appreciated ripping off anything they could’ve sold from my car or worse—have the car itself stolen.

  It was a sad, but true fact. You couldn’t drive into the camp. You had to leave your car parked a couple of blocks away. If they saw a car they liked, one friend pretended to be interested in the Good Samaritan trying to help while the others used the time to take the car apart or steal it. My car wasn’t fancy, but it was new.

  I put the sacks in Joseph’s backseat and settled in the front, placing my hand on my stomach. I was happy to take the extra food to the homeless camp, but I really wanted to go home and get some tea. My stomach had bothered me all day.

  Joseph got in and looked at me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” I buckled the seatbelt. “I’d just rather not stay too long. It’s been a long day.”

  “Of course. They’ll be happy to see you again, but I can make an excuse to get us out of there.”

  “I’m hoping none of the regulars are still down there to see.” I sighed. “I know that isn’t the case, though. I will see people whom I’ve met before.”

  He buckled up, started the car, and backed out of the parking spot. “How long has it been since you’ve been down there?”

  “It’s been a few months. I tried to keep going, but it was just too hard.” I looked out the window as I felt tears prickling my eyes.

  My father lived there before he died. He was a big dreamer who put all of his money into a scam and lost everything. Joseph was right—that being dealt bad hands made for desperate people. Once the economy collapsed, those people who had been dealt a bad hand went looking for those who hadn’t.

  My father wanted to retire early, live his life with my mother, and travel the country. He believed their false promises and sank every dime they had into it. These were the men he worked with on big deals every day. They had grown close over the many years of working side by side and became friends, or so he thought. He thought they’d never steal money from him.

  But they did.

  He fought to get it back, but there was nothing he could do. The more he tried to fix it, the worse things got. He lost his job. After all, it was inconceivable that a member of the team would’ve been out of the loop on the scam and dumb enough to fall into the trap.

  But he did.

  My mother moved in with me until she could get back on her feet. My father couldn’t take the shame of what he put his family
through. He lived in his car until the loan company caught up to him and took that. That was when he moved into the homeless camp.

  It took me a little while, but I found him. I visited him and the others often. My mother couldn’t. She could’ve forgiven the lost money. That never mattered to her. She couldn’t forgive the fact he walked out on her—on us—and chose to live a life on the streets. My training as a psychologist helped me to understand it was about him and how he was feeling more than anything to do with her or me.

  That was a dark time in my life, which Joseph helped me through. He helped me find my father and helped me settle things when he died. From where I came from, he went above and beyond what a “colleague” would’ve done. I still couldn’t believe I’d read him so wrong. I shook my head.

  “We won’t have to stay long, but if you want to, I’ll stay as long as you like.”

  I turned back to Joseph and forced a smiled. “Thank you.”

  We pulled up and parked closer than usually allowed. Joseph was giving me a quick getaway, and I was grateful. Maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on his car. I smiled at the thought his trick to get me to take his car may have made him a little anxious, as well. Joseph didn’t seem anxious often.

  He wouldn’t allow me to take any sacks. I would’ve fought him on that, but I wasn’t feeling well and allowed him to take over. I followed close behind with my arms wrapped around me. I wasn’t sure why it was so difficult to come back. Maybe it was the memories of seeing what my strong father had whittled down to at the end or maybe because my father wouldn’t be there when I showed up. I tightened my grip.

  I knew it would be upsetting for Lindsey to come back, but I believed she needed the closure. She may not be able to return as she once did to offer support and encouragement, but it was necessary to face it to see what she wanted to do. I was proud to be the one to help her.

  She started walking slower the closer we got. I turned to her and watched her. She was looking down at each step with her arms around her waist. She was uncomfortable to say the least.

  “I can take these in and be back to the car in a few minutes. Do you want to wait in the car?”