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said. “I’d sure like to hear more about it sometime."
    "Tell you what. I was about to go inside and toss together a pasta dish. I’d love company. After we eat, I can join you at your apartment if you want to watch TV. Being there with a neighbor might help. What do you say?"
    Becca’s first impulse was to agree to his terms, but she paused to consider. What did she know about him? She had watched him rescue a cat from a tree across the street, and knew he sponsored a kid through Big Brother, because she had spoken with the boy while he waited on the stoop one afternoon, but was that resumé enough to reassure her he was safe?
    She gazed into Evan’s eyes for a long moment and his remained steady, not blinking or flinching. The way he looked at her told her he was honest and trustworthy. She needed a friend right now. She would have to rely on her instincts. "Okay," she said, shrugging. "That sure beats the mental breakdown I was planning this evening."
    "Good." He stood, took her hand, and pulled her to her feet. "This way to Chef Wolfgang Suck’s kitchen."
    She laughed for the first time in weeks.
     

Chapter Four
     
    From the front row of the conference room, a professional-looking woman dressed in a gray cotton suit with a tailored white blouse, raised her hand.
    "Yes?" I asked.
    She lifted her eyeglasses from her face and used them as one would use a pointer while speaking. "Sarah, I can’t help but wonder about this neighbor of Becca’s. Obviously she knew him casually before the rape, but now he seems so interested and available. Is it possible he might have something to do with it?"
    I shrugged, thinking again of Rachel and all she had gone through. While I don’t typically reveal too much information at this point in the lecture, because I could lose my audience’s interest later on, tossing them a scrap to chew on wouldn’t hurt. "I’m glad you noticed this and said something. Certainly he appears eager to help Becca out, but we don’t know yet if it’s because he’s a true knight in shining armor, or a cad in cool clothing. I don’t want to say too much just yet, but keep your eye on him as the story progresses."
    Another hand went up in the back row and a wide-eyed younger woman in jeans and jacket spoke.  "How long after the rape did you start meeting with Becca?"
    "Not long after," I said, recalling the first time we met. "Once back at her apartment, Becca’s terrifying dreams didn’t end, but magnified and multiplied. It didn’t take long before she couldn’t stomach suffering in silence, and sought out the services of a psychotherapist. Not knowing where to turn, she approached Angela, who had occasionally been in to see me with relationship problems. Only a few hours later she called for an appointment.
    Upon entering the waiting room for our first session, I saw a striking redhead with high cheek bones and large, incandescent green eyes. When she stood to follow me into the office, I noticed she wore a floral print dress with a flouncy skirt and high heels. While on the short side, she possessed an appealing pixy-ish quality. Later, I attributed this to her mischievous grin, and the way she wove her words with her hands.
    “ She took a seat on the couch and launched into an explanation of why she had come, beginning with the rape and the murder. She described in detail what had taken place in her apartment in the early hours of that August morning, and what had followed with the hospital, the police, and her family. Although I listened intently and took extensive notes, a part of me stood back, refusing to leap to any judgments.
    The psyche can be a trickster, camouflaging and twisting the truth to protect itself from what it sees as bad behavior. Even though Becca professed her innocence more than once, this hadn’t appeased the police; and it wasn’t totally persuasive to me. I never allow myself to draw conclusions about a client until I have had a chance to work with them.