Free The Blue Journal by L.T. Graham

brain.”
    Randi shook her head. “Is that a question? Because if it is, I really don’t know how to respond.”
    Walker sighed. “They’re working on the autopsy. You never know if someone might have drugged her first or whatever. Anyway, it was sure a strange setup.” He shrugged. “Look, you and I know that in a homicide investigation a judge can sign an order that overrides your confidential privilege. Then you’d be forced to give sworn testimony about anything you know that might help in the investigation. I’m just trying to keep things simple. I’m not interested in hurting your practice or broadcasting any of the woman’s secrets, but there may be things you know that have a bearing on this case. Things you may not even realize could be important.”
    â€œI understand. For now it doesn’t change my obligation.”
    â€œRight.” Walker decided to give it one more try. “Suppose she had mentioned another guy—just suppose, you don’t have to say if she did or not. Would she have given a name?”
    There was a long pause. Then Randi said, “No, she wouldn’t. She wasn’t the type.”
    â€œWasn’t the type. Perfect.” He took a moment to think that one over. “The shooter was probably someone she knew well, maybe even trusted. Someone got extremely close to pull that trigger right beside her head. No sign of a struggle or forced entry into her home. Think about it—someone she knew and trusted.” He watched her. “You might want to consider helping me here.” They were standing face-to-face as Walker reached into his jacket and pulled out several photographs. He held them out to her.
    They were graphic, providing several views of Elizabeth Knoebel’s corpse, her blood-stained bed, and close-ups of her fatal wound. As Randi looked at them, she was no longer involved in a clinical discussion with a police officer. She felt as if she was in Elizabeth’s bedroom, a witness to her violent death. She drew a deep breath, then handed the pictures back to Walker. He gave her his card in exchange.
    â€œYou know, Doc, your answers, or should I say your nonanswers, make me think you might just know something you should be telling me. So what gives? What could possibly be so confidential you wouldn’t want to tell me if it could help find her murderer?” Walker shoved the photos back in his jacket pocket.
    Randi was still thinking about the pictures.
    â€œThere’s one more thing,” he said, “something you may have considered yourself. Mrs. Knoebel was your patient. She talked to you, confided in you. Whoever murdered her might feel the way I do, that you know enough to help us solve this case. Which means you’re a potential liability to the killer. Like I say, something you probably thought of yourself.”
    Randi stared at him. “Yes,” she admitted, “I have.” She did not reveal any of the other fears that were already forming.
    â€œWell then, give me a call when you’re ready to talk. And if you think any of your other patients might know something useful,” he gestured toward the business card she was holding, “you know how to reach me.”

    As soon as he was gone, Randi closed the door and hurried to her desk. She opened the drawer and pulled out the plain white wrapper. It was not sealed. Inside was a single sheet of white paper. On it was typed:
    DR CONWAY
I AM SORRY
    She read the short message twice, turning the note over to its blank side and back again, as if there might be something else to see, something she was missing. She returned the note to the drawer, placing it beside the other plain envelope she had received just a day earlier. Once again, there was no name or address on the message or the envelope.
    Randi slowly closed the drawer and then, before attending to her waiting patient, she sat back and stared straight ahead