On The Couch: Overtime
Burn the Midnight Oil
The time difference between Chicago and New York often worked in Murphy’s favor. Tonight she almost hated that. Usually, it let her work late and still call her kid at a decent hour. Now it gave her an hour buffer zone to think about whether or not this was a good idea or not. At midnight she made up her mind, bit the bullet and dialed her therapist’s home number. It was for emergencies only and Murphy couldn’t decide if this was one or not. Just because Robert had kissed her and now she couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking didn’t mean it was an emergency. It wasn’t like she was curled up in a corner having an emotional breakdown. She hadn’t snapped, but the pressure was building and she had to tell someone, say something to someone about it. While she liked the people she worked with in New York, she hadn’t quite gotten to the point of telling them her dirty little secrets.
“Hello?” Dr. Hendricks sounded remarkably awake for eleven in the evening. Murphy had expected the doctor to be asleep. She had hoped it was such a deep sleep that she wouldn’t answer the phone. No such luck, but considering how Murphy’s day had been going she should have expected it.
“Doc, you… got a minute?” Murphy hedged, digging out a pen to give her hands something to do.
“Lieutenant Murphy?” Hendricks sounding surprised but almost pleased. “Yes, yes, of course. How’s New York? Have you seen Dr. Curtis yet?”
“Ah, no.” She hadn’t even called the recommended psychiatrist. She didn’t want to start the whole painful process of learning to trust yet another shrink. She’d stick with Hendricks and phone calls for as long as could.
“You should, he’s a good friend.” There was a bit of a pause and Murphy heard papers being shuffled around on the other end, “Now, what can I do for you tonight?”
“I had… a really bad one,” she said, looking down at the pen in her hands. “Robert came back and he started killing again. He… bragged to me, like he used to and then he…”
“Did he attack you again?” Dr. Hendricks prompted.
Murphy closed her eyes tight. It was harder than she thought to say it and it made no sense. He’d just kissed her. He hadn’t put his hands on her or tried to rape her. He hadn’t done anything but kiss her and she felt tainted, violated. It was like finding out she’d been possessed all over again. But, damn it, she’d gotten over that, she could fight this.
“He kissed me,” she said, pushing past the fear and hesitation. “The son of a bitch kissed me.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to tell me a cigar is just a cigar now?”
“I’m going to tell you that killer and victim have a very intimate connection. You know that. In opening these cold cases you’ve not only discovered Robert’s intimate connection with his victims, but your own connection to him. Your unconscious mind manifested that connection in a dream about a kiss. It’s merely your mind trying to process that intimacy in a less disturbing, but no doubt unsettling, way.”
Except it had all been real, but there was no way Murphy could tell Hendrick’s that. Robert was legally dead, after all. The fact that he was alive, torturing girls and her, was just another secret she’d have to keep, another weight on her shoulders.
“What happened after he kissed you?” Dr. Hendricks asked, sounding very interested.
Murphy scowled, “I shot him. Three times in the chest.”
“Did he die?”
“He disappeared.”
“I think this is a good thing. I don’t really hold much stock in dream analysis but if you can still defeat him in your dreams, you can defeat him in your waking mind too.”
“Yeah, thanks doc,” she sighs. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll look into that other doctor.”
They exchanged awkward good-byes and Murphy snapped her cell phone closed. She tapped the pen for a few seconds, lost in her own mind and then grabbed a file to bury herself and her thoughts in work.
The time difference between Chicago and New York often worked in Murphy’s favor. Tonight she almost hated that. Usually, it let her work late and still call her kid at a decent hour. Now it gave her an hour buffer zone to think about whether or not this was a good idea or not. At midnight she made up her mind, bit the bullet and dialed her therapist’s home number. It was for emergencies only and Murphy couldn’t decide if this was one or not. Just because Robert had kissed her and now she couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking didn’t mean it was an emergency. It wasn’t like she was curled up in a corner having an emotional breakdown. She hadn’t snapped, but the pressure was building and she had to tell someone, say something to someone about it. While she liked the people she worked with in New York, she hadn’t quite gotten to the point of telling them her dirty little secrets.
“Hello?” Dr. Hendricks sounded remarkably awake for eleven in the evening. Murphy had expected the doctor to be asleep. She had hoped it was such a deep sleep that she wouldn’t answer the phone. No such luck, but considering how Murphy’s day had been going she should have expected it.
“Doc, you… got a minute?” Murphy hedged, digging out a pen to give her hands something to do.
“Lieutenant Murphy?” Hendricks sounding surprised but almost pleased. “Yes, yes, of course. How’s New York? Have you seen Dr. Curtis yet?”
“Ah, no.” She hadn’t even called the recommended psychiatrist. She didn’t want to start the whole painful process of learning to trust yet another shrink. She’d stick with Hendricks and phone calls for as long as could.
“You should, he’s a good friend.” There was a bit of a pause and Murphy heard papers being shuffled around on the other end, “Now, what can I do for you tonight?”
“I had… a really bad one,” she said, looking down at the pen in her hands. “Robert came back and he started killing again. He… bragged to me, like he used to and then he…”
“Did he attack you again?” Dr. Hendricks prompted.
Murphy closed her eyes tight. It was harder than she thought to say it and it made no sense. He’d just kissed her. He hadn’t put his hands on her or tried to rape her. He hadn’t done anything but kiss her and she felt tainted, violated. It was like finding out she’d been possessed all over again. But, damn it, she’d gotten over that, she could fight this.
“He kissed me,” she said, pushing past the fear and hesitation. “The son of a bitch kissed me.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to tell me a cigar is just a cigar now?”
“I’m going to tell you that killer and victim have a very intimate connection. You know that. In opening these cold cases you’ve not only discovered Robert’s intimate connection with his victims, but your own connection to him. Your unconscious mind manifested that connection in a dream about a kiss. It’s merely your mind trying to process that intimacy in a less disturbing, but no doubt unsettling, way.”
Except it had all been real, but there was no way Murphy could tell Hendrick’s that. Robert was legally dead, after all. The fact that he was alive, torturing girls and her, was just another secret she’d have to keep, another weight on her shoulders.
“What happened after he kissed you?” Dr. Hendricks asked, sounding very interested.
Murphy scowled, “I shot him. Three times in the chest.”
“Did he die?”
“He disappeared.”
“I think this is a good thing. I don’t really hold much stock in dream analysis but if you can still defeat him in your dreams, you can defeat him in your waking mind too.”
“Yeah, thanks doc,” she sighs. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll look into that other doctor.”
They exchanged awkward good-byes and Murphy snapped her cell phone closed. She tapped the pen for a few seconds, lost in her own mind and then grabbed a file to bury herself and her thoughts in work.