The Therapist: A Scottish Crime Mystery (A DCI Scott Thriller) by Yvonne Miller

Author:Yvonne Miller [Miller, Yvonne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Jasmine

I’m back in this grotty cell once again. I’m having a consultation with my delightful solicitor. I’ve wound up the investigating officers and her. Well, whoop de doo. I’m pretty upset myself at the moment. I find myself yanking at my hair. It’s painful, but that’s the only thing that seems to ground me. Pain has been rooted in everything that pleases those around me. I’m confused about whether it brings me peace or turmoil. Life is just one big confusing ball of energy. Some people have an easy time of it, and others, like me, get left at the edges, looking over the precipice wondering whether it would be easier if you took one giant step.

“Jasmine, are you listening to me?” the solicitor’s voice breaks through my internal monologue. I shake away the thoughts that need to be shelved for now.

“I wasn’t, really. Could you repeat it?” But, again, I’m pissing her off. I’m sure she doesn’t have to deal with clients like me very often, thankfully, or she would have quit her job long ago.

“They're looking at charging you officially now. You haven’t helped yourself, and now the police have run out of time and patience. They have to either charge you or let you go. Of course, they wouldn’t do the latter. You’ve confessed, the rest is just formalities now. DCI Scott tried to understand your side of the story, but you wouldn’t let him in. He’s not the bad guy here.” She says sympathetically. The truth is there isn’t any good to come of opening up.

“I understand.” And I do. I understand only too well.

“I’m going to go and get a coffee before they bring you back to the interview room.” She stands to leave but not before resting her hand on my shoulder. It was a passing gesture but one capable of undoing everything I’ve worked so hard to keep locked away.

She calls for the duty officer to let her out, the door is promptly slammed shut behind her. It’s a fitting metaphor for her life – every door has been slammed in her face. Help would never come knocking willingly for her, and life should never have been this much of a fight. I’m at peace now with how things need to be. It’s hard but just.

Around an hour later, two officers arrive to escort me to the interview room once more. Still handcuffed, it feels like the last walk of any importance. I take in the sky through the smeared windows as I walk through the corridors. It’s a stunning blue sky with streaks of red through it. It’s as though it’s been pierced with a knife; it's bleeding out for all to see. I laugh at the irony. I make no conversation, and none is made toward me. It seems the time for talking is well and truly over. It saddens me that I will be nothing but a headline in a newspaper soon – nothing will have been documented about the kind of person I was before all of this, how I had dreams and ambitions.

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