Free A Deadly Thaw by Sarah Ward Page A

expected to drop everything and reply. I don’t have to do that, do I?’
    Kat shifted in her seat. ‘Not if you don’t want to but, then again, if you wanted to reply, I would also encourage you to do so. It’s about taking control of your life.’
    ‘I don’t want to reply. It’s what I’ve decided. Thank you for supporting me in this.’ He looked closely at her. ‘Are you all right?’
    ‘Yes, of course, I’m fine. How have you been sleeping?’ As he talked, Kat watched as his foot, crossed over his leg, jigged up and down. His repressed energy both repelled and fascinated her. He noticed her looking and stilled his foot for a moment. Then carried on with his narrative, his foot resuming its syncopated rhythm.
    She forced herself to focus on his words and not on the object that lay in her bag. It was pointless. Mark, for all his dysfunctional childhood, or perhaps because of it, was an expert at reading people’s moods. He was also adept at carrying the blame for other people’s problems. ‘I’m sorry. I feel that I’m boring you. I know you’ve heard it all before.’
    Kat had hardly been listening, but her professional training kicked in. ‘I’m so sorry, Mark. It’s not you at all. Would you excuse me a minute while I get myself a glass of water?’ She wanted to burst into tears, hold on to him and cry like she’d once seen him do when he’d talked about his childhood. Instead, she escaped to the kitchen and laid her hot forehead against the cool wall tiles for a moment. Then she poured some water from the tap into a mug and swallowed the tepid liquid in one gulp.
    When she returned to the counselling room, Mark was standing. ‘Are you sick? We can do this another time, if you want.’
    She should have lied and said that she was ill. Professionally, it would have been the best thing to do. But the turmoil of her thoughts meant that all she could focus on was the package she had been handed earlier. ‘I’ve got a few problems that I need to sort out. It’s completely unprofessional of me. I think we should stop this session and rearrange it. As soon as possible, of course. These things do occasionally happen but it’s the first time for me.’ Kat felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes and stood up to hide them from him.
    But Mark’s instincts were on full alert, and he crossed the room towards her. ‘I’ve heard about the body. There’s a rumour going around Bampton that it’s Andrew Fisher. Is that true? His wife is your sister, isn’t she?’
    He was standing in front of her. She could smell soap – a citrus tang. Kat took a step back. ‘The Bampton rumour mill. I should’ve guessed it’d be in full swing by now.’ There was no chance of anonymity in this small town.
    ‘I thought you might cancel our session, what with everything that’s happened. I wouldn’t blame you but I was hoping you wouldn’t. Because I wanted to see you.’ He reached out a hand, and Kat braced herself. There was no further step away that she could make in this small room. Now was the time to tell him to go. That she’d call him to rearrange the session. He’d given her an opt-out by mentioning Andrew Fisher, but the monstrosity that she’d been given this morning needed, in its horror, normalising in some way. And here was a man who would recognise its significance. She took a deep breath. ‘Mark. Will you help me?’ As she uttered the words, she felt the walls of her professional training crumble around her.
    He dropped his hand. ‘What’s the matter?’
    She reached behind her chair and gently lifted her orange handbag. She pulled from its depths the object that had dominated her thoughts all day. She gingerly unwrapped it from its woollen covering and presented it to him, like a child offering a gift. He didn’t take it from her. ‘Who gave you this?’
    ‘A boy. This morning. He knocked on my door and said that he was a friend of Lena, my sister. Is it loaded?’
    They both looked