InSight

applies to me—disability.”
    “I dis -like that word too.” Luke couldn’t hear the emphasis on the dis part of the word. “It has a negative connotation. Dis-able. Not able. Not capable. I have a file cabinet full of success stories to disprove that.”
    “You’re a perfect example.”
    Abby rested her head on the back of the booth, feeling she’d betrayed not only Luke but herself as well. “I’m not so perfect. I have hard days all the time. Part of my job, by the very nature of my…disability, is to set an example for my patients. It gives me an inside track. That doesn’t mean I have a lock on being blind. It’s tough, and there’s never a time when it isn’t.”
    “If you refer me to someone else, I’ll lose my job.”
    “And if I don’t, I’ll lose mine. I’m sorry, Luke. If I could replay the last hour, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
    “If I’m being honest, I find you attractive. I guess if it’s a choice between another therapist or not seeing you again, I’ll take the other therapist.”
    Abby couldn’t ignore the spike in her heart rate. She felt her face flush. “Then, that’s that. Case closed—literally. I’ll explain the circumstances to Dr. Tollison and to Sergeant Dykstra. He’ll understand.”
    “What else will you tell him? You’ve spent an hour with me. You must have some impression.”
    “It would be unethical to discuss it with you.”
    “This is my life we’re talking about, Abby.”
    Desperation filled McCallister’s voice. She knew how much his job meant to him. “We’ve spent one hour in consultation, and an hour having dinner, during which time I spoke mostly about me. I wouldn’t judge a person’s psychological makeup in that amount of time, other than to say that I’m probably the one needing therapy. I will say I think you’re having problems you aren’t willing to acknowledge.”
    “Like?”
    “I’ll let someone else discuss it with you. From now on we’re two people feeling our way.”
    How apropos. Feeling my way is how I live life.

Chapter Four
    Hindsight Is Blind

    L uke hadn’t wanted to move to the other side of the booth, but he could see her better. They rode home in silence, and as he guided her to the door, he covered her hand on his arm. Daisy greeted her.
    “Hey, girl.” Abby leaned down and rubbed her dog’s back. The crime scene unit had gone and Pete Valkonis had straightened up, clearing a path from room to room.
    Pete filled her in on the damage. “Nothing broken, just messed, as if the intruder wanted to cause you as much confusion as possible. A locksmith changed the lock to the front door.” He handed Abby two new keys and closed her fingers over them. “I checked the lock on the gate in the back yard. It hasn’t been tampered with, and someone would need a ladder to jump the fence. I’ll have a patrol car keep an eye on the house tonight to be safe.”
    “Thanks. I’ll double-lock the doors and put on the safety chain. I’ll be all right.”
    Luke moved closer. “If you hear anything, anything at all, call Pete. Give me your cell phone and I’ll program his number.
    “It’s in my purse.”
    Luke got it and handed it to her. She took her cell from the front pocket and he tapped in Pete’s number. “Do you have any numbers already designated on speed dial?”
    “Yes, five of them.”
    “Okay then, Pete is six.”
    “I live alone,” Pete said, “so don’t think you’re interfering with a life. I don’t have one.”
    Luke touched her hand, adding a little squeeze, and a shot of electricity surged through her.
    “Take care. I’ll email you tomorrow.”
    Abby felt safe enough to go outside so Daisy could do her business. She sat down in one of the patio chairs, welcoming her dog’s nuzzling head in her lap. She rubbed the furry neck, working her fingers in deep. So many emotions swirled in her head that she couldn’t think straight. Who could have done this and why? She wracked her brain but couldn’t come up with a single suspect.
    Exhausted, she went inside to get ready for bed, but she couldn’t get Luke McCallister out of her mind. She made a point to maintain a code of professional ethics, separating personal involvement from therapy—not easy when dealing with damaged people. A few patients had tested her emotional detachment, and it took all her resources to erect a wall defining their positions. In an odd way, her blindness helped disassociate on a personal level. Even