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Authors: Nancy Grace
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Karen, not “actually cheating” he said, the harder she tried to listen in on phone messages, pick through his pockets at night, and read e-mails sent to and from his super-secret screen name.
Hailey sat, feet curled under her on her red sofa, drinking tea as Karen switched topics from James’s impotency and online relationships with other women to her human resources job and her struggle to advance against her male counterparts.
The hour flew by.
“So, same time next Friday?” she asked as Karen headed for the door.
“Definitely yes. Thank you, Hailey. For everything. Bye.” Karen slipped into her coat, picked up her shoulder bag and briefcase, then reached out and hugged Hailey good-bye, as always. She still had a red nose from crying, but at least now it was topping a big smile. Karen closed the door and her steps echoed down the hall.
Hailey knew most therapists disapproved of doctor-patient hugs, but it seemed so natural she never tried to resist. Instead, she hugged back just as tightly.
Hailey made a few quick notes in her file, then checked her schedule. Karen’s session had run late, but there was still no sign of her next patient, Melissa Everett—not unusual, as Melissa often barreled in late and breathless.
She always had an excuse, but Hailey suspected the real reason Melissa ran late was that she didn’t look forward to tackling the raw pain dredged up by some of her memories. An adult victim of child molestation that had been inflicted years before, Melissa still could find no real peace.
CPA Nathan Mazzelli, whom Hailey suspected was on the take, had a late-afternoon slot. He probably needed more than a shrink. All things considered, a criminal defense attorney could soon move to the top of Mazz’s shopping list. Mazz was obsessed with a recurring dream character, an evil carnival monkey who doubled as a secret henchman for the IRS who was looking for him. Whenever Mazz thought he’d lost them, the monkey would literally jump onhis back, screeching at the top of its primate lungs to alert the government predators to his location.
The patient who followed was one of the sweetest and the loneliest…Hayden Krasinski, an incredibly talented graphic designer just over twenty years old and already worn out with the world.
Somebody sat rudely on their car horn outside. Hailey instinctively looked out the sliver of window that faced the street.
She couldn’t help but smile as she watched Karen, with the perfect form of an Olympic sprinter, aggressively pursuing a cab back to work. In her full-length neon pink coat and loaded down with a staggering briefcase and jumbo-size shoulder purse, Karen displayed serious agility and beat a guy in his early twenties to the pass, nabbing the taxi herself.
“You go, Karen,” Hailey whispered aloud, followed quickly by, “James, you big idiot.”
8
Atlanta, Georgia
B ALANCING AN ARMLOAD OF RESEARCH, LAW CLERK JIM TALLEY knocked on the door of Judge Clarence E. Carter’s chambers.
“Come in.”
The Judge—“C.C.” to his political cohorts—eyed the stack of documents suspiciously. “Son, what is that you’ve got with you? I hope it’s the Sports section from the Telegraph .”
Jim exercised immense self-control in not rolling his eyes and reminded himself that a thousand third-years would give their eye teeth to get a spot with the State Supremes.
Jim might have graduated first in his class at Mercer University, one of the oldest law school in the state, but he had received the coveted appellate-court clerkship purely through connections.
Upon learning his class ranking, the judge quickly informed him that grades didn’t matter. “It’s not what you know, son. It’s who you know and how you use it. Remember that, son, and you’ll go far.”
The judge had dispensed that advice a hundred times, and Jim wholeheartedly believed it.
After all, his father was on the boards of two major corporations that contributed heavily to the
Hailey sat, feet curled under her on her red sofa, drinking tea as Karen switched topics from James’s impotency and online relationships with other women to her human resources job and her struggle to advance against her male counterparts.
The hour flew by.
“So, same time next Friday?” she asked as Karen headed for the door.
“Definitely yes. Thank you, Hailey. For everything. Bye.” Karen slipped into her coat, picked up her shoulder bag and briefcase, then reached out and hugged Hailey good-bye, as always. She still had a red nose from crying, but at least now it was topping a big smile. Karen closed the door and her steps echoed down the hall.
Hailey knew most therapists disapproved of doctor-patient hugs, but it seemed so natural she never tried to resist. Instead, she hugged back just as tightly.
Hailey made a few quick notes in her file, then checked her schedule. Karen’s session had run late, but there was still no sign of her next patient, Melissa Everett—not unusual, as Melissa often barreled in late and breathless.
She always had an excuse, but Hailey suspected the real reason Melissa ran late was that she didn’t look forward to tackling the raw pain dredged up by some of her memories. An adult victim of child molestation that had been inflicted years before, Melissa still could find no real peace.
CPA Nathan Mazzelli, whom Hailey suspected was on the take, had a late-afternoon slot. He probably needed more than a shrink. All things considered, a criminal defense attorney could soon move to the top of Mazz’s shopping list. Mazz was obsessed with a recurring dream character, an evil carnival monkey who doubled as a secret henchman for the IRS who was looking for him. Whenever Mazz thought he’d lost them, the monkey would literally jump onhis back, screeching at the top of its primate lungs to alert the government predators to his location.
The patient who followed was one of the sweetest and the loneliest…Hayden Krasinski, an incredibly talented graphic designer just over twenty years old and already worn out with the world.
Somebody sat rudely on their car horn outside. Hailey instinctively looked out the sliver of window that faced the street.
She couldn’t help but smile as she watched Karen, with the perfect form of an Olympic sprinter, aggressively pursuing a cab back to work. In her full-length neon pink coat and loaded down with a staggering briefcase and jumbo-size shoulder purse, Karen displayed serious agility and beat a guy in his early twenties to the pass, nabbing the taxi herself.
“You go, Karen,” Hailey whispered aloud, followed quickly by, “James, you big idiot.”
8
Atlanta, Georgia
B ALANCING AN ARMLOAD OF RESEARCH, LAW CLERK JIM TALLEY knocked on the door of Judge Clarence E. Carter’s chambers.
“Come in.”
The Judge—“C.C.” to his political cohorts—eyed the stack of documents suspiciously. “Son, what is that you’ve got with you? I hope it’s the Sports section from the Telegraph .”
Jim exercised immense self-control in not rolling his eyes and reminded himself that a thousand third-years would give their eye teeth to get a spot with the State Supremes.
Jim might have graduated first in his class at Mercer University, one of the oldest law school in the state, but he had received the coveted appellate-court clerkship purely through connections.
Upon learning his class ranking, the judge quickly informed him that grades didn’t matter. “It’s not what you know, son. It’s who you know and how you use it. Remember that, son, and you’ll go far.”
The judge had dispensed that advice a hundred times, and Jim wholeheartedly believed it.
After all, his father was on the boards of two major corporations that contributed heavily to the
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