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converted the main street to resemble a Swiss village: false-fronted shops, ornamented balconies. (A motif of my recent dreams: a coincidence?) The town isperched on the western bank of Arrow Lake – about a hundred kilometres from Nelson, where Victoria begot me.
    Do I dare go to Jackson Cove to probe the rumours of consanguinity? What confounding truths might be revealed?
    1 I have determined that Tim is not religious, and he disdains psychic phenomena as “irrational folk legends.” So his talk about being subjected to the whim of divine spirits seems a form of avoidance.
    1 I would not call this activity, which continued until she left the country, stalking.

C HAPTER F OUR
    Date of Interview: Friday, August 8, 2003
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    I had telephoned Tim on the weekend to tell him, in the event he needed to reach me, that I was taking a few days’ holiday but would be back in time to see him today. He acknowledged my need for a break, wished me a relaxing time, and suggested we cancel for this week. But I found him in my waiting room at about three p.m., looking forlorn. I had other patients, and I wasn’t able to see him until five o’clock. Afterwards, since I was free for the evening, I joined him for dinner.
    I can’t say he’s suffered a severe relapse, but some of his earlier distracted thinking and erratic behaviour patterns have re-emerged. There have been several significant stressors: another hand-printed note with a threatening connotation, an extremely odd “therapeutic” session with his patient Vivian Lalonde, a difficult encounter with the professional discipline committee, and, just yesterday, his regular appointment with Bob Grundison.
    Outweighing all this, however, is the absence of Sally Pascoe, who left a week ago for Munich. He has received what he calls a “profound message” in a greeting card she e-mailed him from an Internet café in Switzerland. He continues to have problemscoping with being alone, and – a step forward, finally-has realized how much she kept his home and social life organized. He is now paying more than lip service to his admission that he took her for granted. Indeed, he seems almost lost without her. She aided him in a cluster of small ways, in grooming and appearance, going shopping with him for clothes, reminding him to wear a tie for court, ensuring his socks matched.
    The challenge I’ve set for myself isn’t an easy one: I may be able to help him understand his possessiveness, the pressures he places on Sally, but does he have the will to change?
    I’m sorry to do this to you, Allis. I’ve done a backslide. I’m fine, actually, it was a little blip. How was your holiday? A ranch in the Cariboo, wasn’t it? Riding trails, that sort of thing? Your husband go with you?
    He paced, seemed disinclined to sit
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    No, I went with Dr. Evelyn Mendel. Please sit down, Tim.
    And how was it?
    Relaxing. There was a lovely swimming lake. Let’s find out what’s bothering you.
    First of all, this.
    He handed me an unsigned note:
I know where you live.
    My gracious.
    Grundison won’t admit he sent it. I’ve moved my boat to a more secure location.
    Tim, surely this is a police matter.
    Dotty Chung is on the case, she’s armed, she … Never mind, I got this weird postcard bye-mail, it’s almost diabolic.
    He showed me a colour printout. Against an Alpine background, a herdsman was blowing into an elk horn, presumably summoning his flock
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    Sally chose it for its banality, that’s what I first thought. And what’s he wearing?
    Leather shorts.
    Lederhosen! And who does he look like?
    No one I know … Who drew the glasses on him?
    I did. Now he looks like Clinton Huff – who, incidentally, came to me in a dream the other night: Huff, in leather shorts, with a German accent!
    What do you read into that?
    There’s some synchrony going on that I don’t understand.
    Okay, a while ago you had a dream involving a musician in lederhosen, prompted by Sally’s planned flight to