The next Tuesday, I am on edge all day. I snap at everyone at work, and no one knows why. I have yet to tell anyone at work about my involvement in the therapy group because I don’t want to be the object of more pity or worse, suspicion. Quinn hangs around me looking like a lost puppy, but I pay her no mind. She’s past getting on my last nerve, and I don’t want her around. She is slow to take the hint, though, as it seems she’s used to being ignored or abused. Unfortunately, the more I ignore her, the more she tries to get my attention. I wonder why she’s so persistent about pursuing me when we are obviously such different people. I surmise it’s the thrill of the chase and leave it at that.
“Rayne! Pay attention to me!” Quinn hits the top of my monitor after fruitlessly trying to get my attention for the past fifteen minutes.
“Quinn, I’m trying to work.” I am a bundle of nerves waiting for group. The police haven’t found much concerning the new case. Rosie didn’t have a boyfriend, nor was there any strange man in her life who might have wanted to do away with her. Her surviving child appeared broken up about losing her, but looks can be deceiving. I read every bit of information I can about the murder because I desperately want the murder to have nothing to do with the group. I just can’t be involved in another investigation.
The other thing that disturbs me is that Carol was on television again speaking about the newest case. She did the rounds and declaimed the possibility that the murders had anything to do with the therapy group. She looked professional and serious and in control. I can’t shake the feeling that she is using a tragic situation for her own means. She isn’t crude about it, but she makes sure to mention her upcoming book during every show she’s on as well as the clinic. It makes me queasy to think that she will benefit from the deaths of two women even though I know it’s the American way. I have wavered back and forth about whether to attend the group tonight. I have a feeling it’ll be more upsetting than healing, but I want to know what the other women think about the murders and Carol’s behavior. If I am honest with myself, I also want to see Maria again.
“Rayne!” Quinn whacks me on the back which I find annoying beyond belief.
“Quinn, please. Not today.” I fight the impulse to slap her, but just barely.
“Then when?” Quinn is pouting again. My head starts thumping; I just want to get rid of her, so I acquiesce.
“Tomorrow. We’ll have a drink after work.”
“Great!” Instantly, Quinn’s face is wreathed in smiles as she bounces away. I suppose one night with her isn’t too much to ask for momentary peace. Zing! My sister has emailed me, much to my dismay.