The Night Before(40)

She started at the top of the block, reading the names on the sides of the buildings that had offices. How was it possible that she hadn’t asked what he did or how they’d met? Just like that night at the fire, she had grown tired of looking after her sister.

There could easily be two hundred people who worked on this block. Dental offices. A deli. She didn’t care how long it took. Or how crazy she felt. Exhaustion was spinning her thoughts. Apartments. A doughnut shop. She went inside and got a coffee.

“Have you seen this woman?” she asked the man at the counter, showing him Laura’s picture from her phone. He shook his head.

“How about a man named Kevin who works on this block?”

Nothing. She didn’t have a picture. Why would she? She hadn’t bothered to ask for one. Hadn’t wanted to know. She had not wanted to see the train go off the tracks.

She took a long sip of the coffee, then snapped on the lid.

Back outside. A print shop. More apartments. A dry cleaner.

She heard herself asking the questions—Do you know a man named Kevin? Do you know this woman? Some faces reflected the absurdity. Others mirrored her concern and asked if she was all right. Others, still, answered quickly then fled. She could be anyone. She could be dangerous.

Each doorway, each building—some reaching into the sky with dozens of offices on each floor. She stopped and asked anyone she could find. She was careful not to miss anything. An hour passed. Then another. The sky was light. She’d expanded her search two blocks both north and south. So many buildings were still closed.

On the verge of starting down a new block, she looked back up the street and spotted a woman opening a building that had been closed when she’d passed it. She ran to the doorway and slipped inside before it could close again.

The building was right in the middle of the block, right across the street from the hotel, like Laura had said. Rosie searched a directory that hung by the elevators, searching the names. Searching for one name—Kevin. They were health-care offices. All different kinds, from massage therapists to orthopedists. And then, there it was! The name she’d been looking for all morning. Dr. Kevin Brody. Ph.D. Clinical Psychology.

Christ, Laura. She had been expecting a banker or lawyer. Someone Laura would cross paths with at her job. But a doctor? A shrink?

And then a worse thought—her shrink?

She rang the buzzer, knowing before she did that no one would answer. It was barely coming up on eight a.m. And it was Saturday. But the hotel …

She rushed across the street and through the revolving door.

A young man was at the desk just inside.

“Have you seen this woman? I think she stayed here a few times over the summer,” Rosie asked. She held her phone up with Laura’s picture.

The man took the phone and looked closely.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I work the night shift and it’s really quiet. I rarely see any of the guests.”

“She might have come in late Thursday night.”

“Definitely not then. I worked that night and I would have remembered. She’s really pretty. Is she in trouble?”

Rosie looked back to the street and the building where Dr. Kevin Brody worked. She could see her reflection in the glass right beside it. Sweatpants, T-shirt. She hadn’t brushed her hair or showered for almost two days. But it was the anguish on her face that was shocking.

“She might be. She’s missing,” Rosie said. “I think her boyfriend worked across the street.”

“Do you have his picture?” the man asked.

Rosie grabbed her phone and Googled Dr. Kevin Brody NYC. An image popped up from a professional website. She was about to enlarge it and show it to the man at the desk. But then she saw something else. An article just beneath it from the Post.

Local Doctor Killed in Robbery

Rosie’s hand clenched her mouth. She clicked on the article and scanned the contents. It was one paragraph. He was assaulted outside his gym. His wallet and phone were stolen, as well as his gym bag. He died of injuries sustained during the attack.

And then the last sentence, striking Rosie right in the gut.

The beloved doctor leaves behind a wife and two small children.





TWENTY-TWO


Laura. Session Number Thirteen. Two Months Ago. New York City.

Dr. Brody: Change begins with understanding your blind spots. It begins with recognition that something’s wrong even if you’re drawn to it.

Laura: You mean to them, don’t you? The men I’m drawn to? Starting with Mitch Adler.

Dr. Brody: Think about what he asked you to do, how he treated you. It was about power, and you kept giving it to him. You didn’t see that it was insatiable. That he was never going to give you what you wanted.

Laura: But I thought he would.

Dr. Brody: Because he fed you just enough to make you believe. And when he did, it made you feel powerful. You said it felt intoxicating, like a drug. Can you see the pattern?

Laura: And what about now, Kevin? Am I doing it again?

Dr. Brody: We need to be careful, Laura. The lines are starting to blur.





TWENTY-THREE


Laura. The Night Before. Thursday, 11 p.m. Branston, CT.

“Stop.” I don’t know that this word has ever left my mouth before.

We lie on the black leather sofa that smells of scotch, bodies pressed together as we make this treacherous journey from strangers to lovers.