Melissa rose from her chair and stepped over to the door of her office. She pulled it open for her last patient of the week. “Okay, Curtis, I think you’re really making progress. It’s good to hear that things are better at home for you.”
Curtis smiled shyly. “Yeah, they are. Thanks for seeing me today. Have a nice weekend, Melissa.”
“You too.”
Melissa watched the young man leave. He had been struggling with social anxiety but seemed to be making good progress.
Just as she was about to gather her things and head out, the phone on her desk rang. For a split second, she considered letting it go to voicemail, but then she shrugged. One more call couldn’t hurt.
Melissa set her handbag on the desk and picked up the handset. “Hello?”
“Melissa?” asked a stern male voice.
Melissa’s trouble radar went up a notch. “Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is your worst fucking nightmare.”
Melissa felt her knees tremble and sank into her chair. “Who— Why are you doing this? Where’s Katie?”
“She’s in the mirror,” the creepy voice said with a chilling chuckle.
Melissa was speechless, unable to form a response. She couldn’t decide if she was dealing with a lunatic or something else. All she knew was that she didn’t recognize the voice.
And she’d had enough.
“Look, if you don’t have something worthwhile to say, I’m hanging up and contacting the police—just like I have with all the other incidents.”
“Yeah, and look where that got you.”
“So you are behind what’s been going on?”
“Yes, no, but maybe so.”
“It’s getting late, and I don’t have time for games. What’s your name?”
“My name is whatever you want it to be.”
“I want it to be what it really is.”
“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to give you my name?”
No, Melissa thought sadly. I don’t.
“What are you doing this weekend?” the voice asked.
For a moment, she wondered if it was just a wrong number. But then again, the caller had addressed her by name.
“What do you think I should be doing?” she asked.
“Enjoying the fun,” the man said before ending the call.
Melissa quickly hung up, locked her office, and hurried down the long hallway toward the waiting room—regretting she’d ever answered.
The hallway loomed endlessly, deserted and menacing. She half-expected someone to fling open a door and leap out at her.
Exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she pushed open the door to the waiting room. It, too, was deserted.
Realizing everyone had gone and the building was about to close, she hurried to the elevator. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the third floor. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground level. For a brief moment, fear gripped her—what if someone was waiting when the doors opened? But relief washed over her when she saw a few people downstairs making their way out. She exited with them and nearly ran to her car.
A bright neon-yellow piece of paper had been slipped under her windshield wiper. Her stomach sank even before she pulled it free. The threatening message, scrawled in big, bold, black block letters, confirmed her dread:
YOU’RE DEAD
Melissa slid into her car and drove straight to the police department. She asked to speak with the detective handling her case. Normally, she wasn’t one to anger easily—unless it involved Katie—but frustration was starting to boil over.
“Hello, Dr. Goldstein. I was just about to contact you.”
“Oh, were you really?” Melissa snapped, sarcasm heavy in her tone. “Would that be before or after someone killed me?”
The detective took the paper she shoved toward him and read it. “Where was this?”
“It was on my car when I left work. That was after I got a threatening phone call.” She relayed the conversation to him, leaving out the part about following Serena to her home. She also explained that she believed Serena was telling the truth when she said Katie wasn’t with her. “Katie was my first thought, and so was Serena since they spent the most time together, but I don’t think Serena’s involved.”
“That’s nice,” the detective said grimly, “because we really have a problem here. A big one.”
“What now?”
“There’s no such person as Katie Nyland.”
It took several seconds for his words to register. “What?”
“We searched and searched. There’s no one by that name.”
“What do you mean? How can there be no such person?”
The detective shrugged, his expression doubtful. “I wish I knew what to tell you, Doctor. But whoever that was—your patient, the person who lived with you, the one you think is harassing you—simply doesn’t exist.”
ns216.73.216.122da2
and then Add to home screen.