Sophie slid the phone back into her pocket, and looked up into Dr. Wilson’s kind, intelligent blue eyes. The psychologist wore a pretty but professional wrap dress and sat in a comfortable wingback armchair in her counseling office in Hilo. Her sandal-shod foot swung back-and-forth in a gentle arc. “That last bit seemed a little unkind to Jake,” she said gently.

Sophie’s neck heated and she lowered her eyes. “I don’t know why I said that. Freitan has been sexually harassing him. It’s really unprofessional.” She had barely begun to describe the events that had brought her to Hilo when her phone rang with Jake’s call. “Kamani Freitan is a detective we are working with on the case. Anyway, I had to take his call or he would probably have sent the police looking for me.”

“Seems like you’ve got a very dedicated partner, but you are going to some effort to push him away.”

“A little more than just a partner, as of last night. Jake and I slept together.” Sophie rubbed the numb-but-tingly skin graft on her cheekbone. “I’ve never understood that American phrase. There was very little sleeping involved.”

Dr. Wilson laughed. “Well, you’ve gotten yourself into quite a pickle now, haven’t you?”

“Hopefully not a pickle. Pickles are rather sour.”

“Just a phrase.” Dr. Wilson shook her head, smiling. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning and tell me why you needed this emergency session so much. I was surprised to hear from you, but I’m glad I could rearrange a few things and get you in.”

Sophie sighed. “I was planning to talk to you in any case. That was part of the reason I came here to the Big Island. I’ve had a series of very intense experiences and changes in my life in the last year, and after the latest one, I came here to Hawaii hoping for a little vacation; some time to sort things out, figure out what I was doing next, make sure I was . . . mentally and emotionally healthy after the things that had happened. I had planned to call you and begin counseling as part of that. Instead, I seem to have uncovered another terrible crime.” She described the discovery of the body dump, and Jake contacting her about the Julie Weathersby case. “And for the rest of it, I really need your assurance that I have complete confidentiality.”

“You do. In fact, since we haven’t worked together formally before, I’d like you to sign some things to that effect.” Dr. Wilson got up and fetched an intake packet from a nearby file cabinet. She put it on a clipboard and handed it to Sophie with a pen. “You fill those out and I’ll take the dogs some biscuits.”

Sophie had left the dogs in the waiting area. She filled out the paperwork as Dr. Wilson took Ginger and Tank dog treats from a jar on top of her bookshelf. Sophie’s mind buzzed as she filled out the papers on autopilot, then paused to really read the confidentiality disclosures.

She was planning to tell Dr. Wilson about the Ghost.

Everything!

She had to have some objective place to unburden herself. Dr. Kinoshita, the psychologist she worked with at Security Solutions, while an excellent therapist, shouldn’t be put in an ethical dilemma by finding out that the company’s CEO was a multi-identity cyber vigilante.

Dr. Wilson returned and Sophie handed back the papers.

“Thank you. Now you are officially my client, I am bound by confidentiality except as it pertains to any plans you have to hurt yourself or another.”

Sophie shook her head. “No current plans. Though if you’d talked to me a month ago, the situation might have been different.”

“Perhaps we should begin there, then.”

It took a half hour for Sophie to bring Dr. Wilson up to current events. “As if all of that weren’t enough, yesterday I was contacted via text message to meet someone at the park who had information about my mother. I sent Jake to work with the detectives, and I went to the park.” She blew out a breath. “The person who found me there was my mother, herself.”

Dr. Wilson blinked. “Forgive me. I thought, from your history and things Lei has said, your mother was disabled with depression. Hospitalized, in fact.”

“Yes. That has been the fiction that she had created. I have no idea what her real life is like, or where she even lives.” Sophie’s gaze darted around the spare, comfortable room with its leather couch and armchair, desk, bookshelf, sand garden on the coffee table, and a few paintings. “My mother, by her admission today, does suffer from depression. But not nearly to the degree I’ve been led to believe. She is actually in espionage, and a member of an elite group of . . . royal guardians, I guess you could call it. The Yām Khûmkạn.”

Dr. Wilson sat back in surprise and made a note on her tablet. “No wonder you asked for an emergency session. When was the last time you saw her?”

“Nine years ago.” Sophie swallowed—her throat was so dry. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Dr. Wilson got up and went behind her desk to a small fridge. She fetched a bottle of water and gave it to Sophie. “What did she want? There must have been a reason she reached out to you.”

“Yes. She wants me to join the organization she works for.” Sophie unscrewed the bottle’s lid and drank thirstily. When she put the water down, Dr. Wilson was still gazing at her steadily. “I told her I needed time to think about it.”

“I would say. Tell me about the encounter.”

“She was . . . smaller than I remembered. But she had not aged since I saw her last. She was disguised as an old woman, and had the proper body language and clothing for that, but her face…” Pim Wat was exceptionally beautiful, with wide-set, large brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a full mouth—many of the same features Sophie looked at every morning in her mirror. “She was very cold in her demeanor. Unrepentant about her deception. The only time she showed any regret at all for her treatment of me was when she told me she had traded me in marriage to Assan. For things he could do for the Thai government and our family.” Sophie covered her trembling mouth with her hand and firmed her voice. “Pim Wat said she had not known what he was. She couldn’t help me once he took me to Hong Kong. He had too much of the power the Yām Khûmkạn needed.”

“I wonder that she had the nerve to even approach you.” Dr. Wilson’s voice vibrated with outrage. “Let alone ask you for any favors.”

“She acknowledged that. And appealed to my patriotism. Said that our family and our country was under attack from cyber terrorists, and that my skills were needed. Implied I would be petty to allow our ‘personal differences’ to keep me from doing the right thing.” Sophie tried to still the trembling of her body, but tension shimmered through her like electricity. “I told her I would not give her an answer right away, but that I would look into it. And she got up and left.”

“That’s all? No attempt to reconcile? To apologize for her neglect and . . . for using you as a bargaining chip to a monster?” Dr. Wilson’s eyes were wide with shock and rage on Sophie’s behalf.

“She implied regret, and said that everything she did was for a higher purpose. Her attitude reminded me of Connor, but Connor has been more emotional about it. And still he used me, lied to me, and chose his mission over me.” Sophie felt the betrayals of those closest to her sucking at her emotionally, dragging her toward that familiar dark pit.

“Connor? Who is that? Tell me about him.”

Sophie glanced at the wall clock. “I don’t know if I can, today. I have to go pick up Jake and get my rental car before the business closes. Can we meet tomorrow? I must make a decision. This is . . .” she pressed her hands against her belly. “This is eating at me, as Americans say. My depression has been better with medication and all the activity I’ve been doing, but this is a . . . setback. I just want to get to my hotel room and lie down.” She longed for quiet and darkness in which to nurse her pain.

“Of course, it’s a setback, a blow. You must always have hoped for something more with your mother. I’m sorry. Some people are simply not capable of it.” Dr. Wilson stood up. “I am livid on your behalf. Come here. You need a therapeutic hug.”

“If I must.” Sophie stood and walked around the coffee table to embrace the petite psychologist. She felt stiff and wooden. She was a robot body with a heart somewhere deep inside, still beating for some unknown reason. But as Dr. Wilson held her, the warmth of the psychologist’s firm, gentle touch seemed to penetrate, melting the disconnect surrounding her.

Sophie sagged, and an inadvertent sob erupted from somewhere deep inside.

“It’s okay. You must grieve for these things,” Dr. Wilson whispered. “Let out the pain so it doesn’t cripple you.”

“If I start to cry, I’ll never stop.” Sophie wrenched herself upright and stepped back. “Let’s meet tomorrow, please. I will work around your schedule.”