Kay David - The Listener

She noted the word he used; he couldn’t even say death. It was time to be blunt.

“That’s a lie, Lieutenant, and you know that as well as I. You’re one of the most important members of the SWAT team. You have to be sharp, on your toes. What happens at home impacts your ability to think and to make decisions. Everyone understands that. Surely you do, too.”

His eyes glittered, two black sapphires, dark and hard. “Do you perform marriage counseling?”

The unexpected question took her by surprise and she answered without thinking. “Of course. That is a primary focus of my practice.”

“Are you married?”

She saw the trap too late. There was nothing to do but answer him. “No,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m divorced. But my personal situation isn’t pertinent—”

“And neither is mine. I can do my job, just like you can.”

“That’s not a fair comparison. I don’t shoot people for a living.”

He waited a moment to reply, but somehow it felt longer to Maria. When he finally did speak, his voice was deliberate, each word distinct. “And do you have a problem with what I do?”

“You’re a valued member of the team and your job is necessary. How I feel about that is not important. What matters is how you feel about it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not relevant.”

“It is to me.”

“And why is that?”

“I need your approval. You’ve already told Lena I can’t do my job right now. If you have some kind of hang-up with what I do—”

She interrupted him, something else she rarely did with patients, her exasperation getting the upper hand over her professionalism. “Lieutenant Lukas, I assure you my evaluation of your situation will not be influenced by your position on the team. I’m paid to look at you as an individual and that’s exactly what I do. What I think about your career choice simply isn’t germane to this.”

“Then let me do my job.”

“I can’t.” She made her expression flat, her voice unequivocal. “Not until we’ve talked more and I feel confident you’ve recovered from the stress of your wife’s death.” She pulled her calendar toward her and ran a pen down the edge of one side. “I have this same time open on Thursday next week. I’d like to meet with you then, but if that’s not convenient, you can check with my receptionist on the way out for a different time. One way or the other, I want to see you in here this coming week.” She put down her pen then picked up one of her appointment cards and held it out to him, her hand in the air a full ten seconds before he finally took the offering.

Rising to his feet, he clenched the card without looking at it. “You’re making a big mistake.”

Even though he was giving her a hard time, behind his rage, his gaze was so full of pain and grief a wave of sympathy hit her. He was hurting.

“I’m sorry you see it that way,” she said quietly. “But I believe if we work together, I can help you.” She stood and held out her hand. “I really can.”

He ignored her outstretched fingers. “And if I don’t want your help?”

She dropped her hand. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Lieutenant.”

He gave her a look that would have quailed another woman’s resolve. Maria simply stared back. A second later, he pivoted sharply and stalked out. As he reached the outer hallway, she heard the sound of paper ripping. The scraps of her card fluttered gently to the carpet and then he was gone.

MARIA EDGED her five-year-old Toyota into the traffic on Highway 98 and headed west. It was the first week of May, the beginning of tourist season in Destin, and the town was already packed. Families in minivans, college kids in Beetles, retired folks in Cadillacs—everyone was on the road and trying to get somewhere else. Up until the seventies, Destin had been a sleepy little fishing village; then its clear waters and beautiful white beach had been discovsered. Now high-rises lined the shore and restaurants and shops took up the space that was left. Maria appreciated the growth, but every summer she longed for the town she’d come to fifteen years before as a wide-eyed newlywed. It’d been a lot different.

Then again, so had she.

She’d had a simple life with no child to worry about and no career to juggle. It’d been her and Reed and a rosy future…or so she’d thought. Once she’d gotten her degree and started her career, things had changed drastically. Reed didn’t care that she’d worked for years for her Ph.D. He still wanted a wife who made him the focus of her life. She’d started her practice, a practice that took time and energy away from him, and he’d left her. The only good part of their union was Christopher, their fourteen-year-old son. She loved him so much it hurt. But she worried constantly about him and whether or not she was balancing her job and motherhood successfully.

The thought brought her full circle to her newest client. Ryan Lukas. When Lena had first called Maria and set up Ryan’s initial meeting, the other woman had told Maria how he’d changed since his wife’s death. Gregarious and friendly, he’d been one of the most popular members of the team before that. The first one to arrive, Lena had said, and the last one to leave, no matter how hard the call. Now he was a loner. He did his job then disappeared.

Even without the description of his changes—even without meeting him—Maria had expected Ryan Lukas would be a difficult client. Despite her earlier denial, she did have some feelings about his position on the team. Anyone who killed people for a living—even bad people—had to be a complicated individual with complex motivations and tangled emotions. The interior life of a countersniper had to be a labyrinth few could understand.

Even taking that into consideration, something about Lukas was still very different from what she’d anticipated. A lot of her male clients hid their real emotions behind the single feeling they felt safe with—anger—but he’d gone a step further. Unable to put her finger on the exact disparity at the moment, Maria knew it’d come to her. She had an innate intuition about people and their emotions. Even as a child, she’d been supersensitive to the imbroglios that had floated through her parents’ home. Lord knew there had been plenty of feelings in the mix. Good and bad.

In the meantime, she had to figure out how to help Ryan Lukas, and she wasn’t looking forward to the job. Uncooperative clients were always a challenge. She’d have to approach him just the right way or they’d never make any progress.

She considered the problem all the way home, but twenty minutes later thoughts of the troubled sniper fled when Maria turned into her driveway. Christopher had—once again—left his expensive bicycle, which his father had purchased, smack in the middle of the approach. She couldn’t even pull into the garage. How many times had she asked Christopher to put his bike away when he got home?

She parked the car in the street, then grabbed her briefcase and started up the sidewalk to the front door. Before the divorce, Christopher had been the perfect kid, but the minute Reed had left, Chris had turned into someone different. His grades had plummeted and the boys he wanted to hang around with weren’t helping matters at all. He was distant and uncommunicative. Maria understood his conflict; he felt abandoned and left behind, and he wanted acceptance somewhere—so he’d looked to those kids. All her efforts to help him, however, had only made matters worse. Trips to the zoo, quiet time just talking, rock concerts he’d selected—she’d done everything she could think of to reconnect with him and nothing had worked. She was running out of ideas—and patience.