Page 38 of Victorious

“What are the odds of him being there at the time?” she mused.

“What are the odds of a house falling down?”

She cocked her head, dark bob tipping to one side. “Did they figure out what happened?”

“According to the city, a sudden failure of structural integrity,” said Gabriel.

Helena set her coffee down, and leaned forward, fingers laced around one knee.

“Paul had a sister.”

“Did he?” ventured Gabriel. “He neglected to mention that in our sessions.”

“After the incident”—a tasteful euphemism—“police found her at Paul’s house. She’d been stabbed twenty-seven times.” Gabriel saw Paul in his office, covered in blood. “Did he strike you as violent?”

“If he had, I would have been obligated to report it.”

“According to the coroner, the wounds weren’t made by a knife, but glass. Twenty-seven different shards. And yet, no broken glass was found at his apartment.”

“Strange,” said Gabriel, because it was. Everything about Paul Barnett had been strange. “But I’m not sure how I can help.”

Helena nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine he was a complicated case.”

“Most patients are complicated, Director Roy. Simple people rarely require therapy. But as I told you at the door, I can’t discuss the contents of our sessions.”

“That’s all right,” said Helena, drawing something from an inside pocket of her suit. “I’ve read them.”

Gabriel tensed at the sight of the battered notebook. The sheets Paul had torn out now tucked back inside the cover.

“You shouldn’t have that,” he said, but the woman ignored him. She plucked one of the pages out and began to read aloud.

“Paul believes he has the ability to control reality, by manifesting dreams. That what he creates inside his mind, he creates outside his body, too.”

She stopped, glancing up at Gabriel. He held her gaze. “Delusions are quite common in psychiatry.”

It wasn’t just an observation. Those were the exact words Gabriel had written next.

Followed by: And yet, I saw it with my own eyes.

Helena’s mouth twitched again, and she set the book aside, along with any remaining pretenses. “Dr. Gray, what you witnessed—”

“What I witnessed is difficult to explain. But my job was not to explain it.”

“What was it, then?”

“To help Paul—”

“But you didn’t help him, did you, Dr. Gray?”

Gabriel stiffened.

“You treated him like a science project.”

“I treated him like a patient. One with a condition for which I had no model. I was trying to help him, but you’re right, I failed. And I paid for it dearly.” He looked past Helena, to the windows, the garden blooming beyond. “There is a misconception that therapists are well, and patients are sick, but it is not that simple. Often, we are just as troubled as the people we treat.” He drew his attention back. “The only difference is, we have the skills to recognize it.”

Her expression hardened. “You could have told Paul that his delusions were real.”

“I considered it,” he admitted, sitting forward in his chair. “But in certain circumstances, validation can be more dangerous than disbelief. Especially when dealing with a fragile mind. Paul Barnett was unstable, and I was in uncharted territory.”