To drown.
Evan blew out a breath. It’d been a long time since he’d sat and just thought about all things Noelle. It still hurt. He hadn’t even talked about Noelle with the therapist he’d begun seeing right after he’d come home, a retired forensic psychologist recommended by the Reno PD, who did consulting work as a profiler for them and taught classes at the university as well. Even though he’d been technically retired as a psychologist when Evan had first escaped from that abandoned building, he acted as an on-call therapist for the cops when needed and had agreed to see Evan. He’d been told by the cops who’d worked his case that Professor Vitucci was the best, and they hadn’t been wrong. He’d helped Evan immensely. But there had been some things Evan couldn’t talk about, even to him. Of all the sufferings, his complicated feelings for Noelle were almost the worst. And the one that hadn’t ended when they’d gotten free. In some ways, it’d only become more painful.
There, in that dungeon, they’d been together. And as God as his witness, sometimes he yearned for the closeness they’d experienced in those cages. The bond they’d forged.
How sick was that? How twisted? Some inverse form of Stockholm syndrome he couldn’t even begin to explain or justify.
But speaking of Professor Vitucci—psychologist, profiler, and all-around man of wisdom—it’d been a long time since he’d spoken to him.
And he could use his insight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Evan,” Professor Vitucci said on a smile, opening his office door wide and ushering him in.
Just the sight of the older man brought him much-needed calm. “Prof. It’s great to see you.” His home office looked basically the same, though Evan thought the couch was new, and maybe the area rug. He couldn’t remember all the particulars of what the room had looked like the last time he’d been there years ago. That time was foggy. He’d been better, but he’d still been treading water. Stronger, even if his head was barely above the waves that rose unceasingly.
But though he didn’t remember exactly what colors the area rug had been, he remembered the feeling of the room, and that remained unchanged. It still smelled woodsy and clean, and the same bookshelf heavily stuffed with books sat behind his desk.
Professor Vitucci looked virtually the same, too, though he had a bit more gray at his temples than he had before, and perhaps a few more lines fanned his eyes. But his smile was still open and warm, his demeanor relaxed. He’d put Evan immediately at ease eight years before, and he did so now. The professor sat down in his chair, and Evan took a seat on the couch facing him, putting his ankle on his knee as he sat back. “How have you been, Prof?”
“I’m supposed to be asking you that,” he said with a smile. “Me, though? I’ve been great. This is the last semester I’ll be working at the university. In a few months, I’ll be retired for real.”
“Why do I get the feeling your retired for real is still going to involve quite a bit of work?”
“Ah, you know me too well. Even after all this time. How’s the PI business?”
“It’s good. Better than good, actually. I’m finally at a place where I can pick and choose my jobs.”
“No more jealous spouses?”
Evan laughed. “How’d you know I gave those cases up first?”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s disheartening to watch people betray each other.”
He made a sound of agreement in his throat. “I do a lot of consulting work with the Reno PD now, actually. So I guess you and I are sort of coworkers.”
When Evan had first started seeing him, the professor had told him he’d consulted on a case many years before where a troubled man who’d considered himself a game master had tormented the city for weeks. Evan found it comforting that the man had firsthand knowledge regarding the psychopathy of game-related crimes, if such a field existed, and also that nothing surprised Vitucci. He’d seen it all. Too much. Evan wondered how he maintained such calm, and even exuded it.
“You sound happy, Evan. Much more settled than you were when I last saw you. How long ago was that now?”
“Four years.”
“Hard to believe. And how are you doing? Do you still have nightmares, or have those passed?”
“They’ve passed. I have one occasionally, but nothing regular. Nothing that makes me anxious to go to bed at night. You assured me that would be the case. Just a matter of time. And you were right.”