She nodded. “Yes. Religion. It’s hated or loved. I heard there’s a church in the States called Church without Religion.”

He hadn’t heard that before. “Church without Religion? Interesting. I’m not into religion. Just thinking about it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

He saw depth and caring in her eyes. “Do you blame God for what’s happening in society?”

That question always confused him. “I don’t. Or maybe I do. I often wonder if God really exists, why do we have all this bad stuff? Maybe there is an evil force at work, and we’re blind to it.” He glanced towards the window. “Erica says it all comes back to love, that God is love. Treating people the way we want to be treated. It makes sense but few put it into practice—it always seems to be driven by the ‘what’s in it for me’ attitude, not in the ‘love thy neighbour’ spirit.”

Doc Cop nodded. She wasn’t going to tell him the answer. Not sure if anyone could. Her hand went to the top of her shirt to make an adjustment. Jack followed her hands but quickly refocused his gaze back to where it should be. Her eyes tantalised him, but he wasn’t going to make a move on his counsellor. Wake up, Jack.

“But I’ve seen the church do good things. I think of my wife and son and others in need. Not that my family was in need—I think it was more of a way of dealing with me.” Erica’s smile came into his mind’s eye.  “But something is off with me. I think it—something spiritual—was there. I tasted it briefly, but it’s been blown away. Maybe by the constant interaction with the real world—the darkness. It hardens you. Desensitises you.”

“Do you need a break from work, Jack?”

“I’m thinking about it. But I feel I’m managing. We’re short-staffed, and although I can put a negative spin on things, I joined the police force because I wanted to help society, and that’s what I want to do. I don’t believe my work is being affected.”

She made some notes and then leaned a little too far forward. Jack looked away.

“Okay. I’d say you’re thinking reasonably well and have a good situational awareness, but let’s meet next week. This sounds like a nasty incident you’re having to investigate.”

“It is. Same time?” he asked.

“Yes, and keep in mind that sometimes we avoid pain through distraction.”

The last comment came as a little jab. “All good. Thanks for your time.” They stood up.

She reached out to shake his hand.  “Jack, I sense a vulnerability there. Keep staying away from the alcohol.”

Jack sensed the vulnerability as well. He also noted a vulnerability with the counsellor. He reached for her hand and looked down at her left hand resting on her waist. There was a ring there. He was thankful.

He walked out into the corridor. He wanted a drink badly. It was arrogant to think he could make a hit on Doc Cop, but he needed a woman and one came to mind.

5 - Sally and the cat

A couple of hours later, Jack sat in his car outside Sally-Anne Richmond’s heritage apartment complex, sipping a coffee and battling his inner demons. She wasn’t at the coffee hangout this morning. He’d asked one of her work companions where she was, in a manner that he hoped hid the real meaning of his question. They said she was sick and went home early.

He could use her sickness as an excuse, say he was in the area. Yep. He was convinced. He finished his coffee, placed the takeaway cup in the car’s cup holder and stepped out of his car.  

He’d never been here before, but Sally’s place of abode was well known since an incident with a rowdy neighbour that was briefly the talk of the office. The police officers had mistakenly knocked on Sally’s door. As she politely redirected them, a man wearing nothing but a hat on his head came screaming down the passageway, removed his hat to cover his genitals, and ran into Sally’s apartment. She had no idea who he was. It became known as the Mad Hatter story, so he looked up the incident and found her address. That was against policy, a no-no.  Now, as he headed towards her apartment entrance, he sensed his chest tightening. Could he be naughty?

Jack tried Sally’s apartment’s intercom, but it wasn’t functioning. The security door opened with ease—the door wasn’t performing its function well either. The stairwell smelled of concrete. Did such a smell ever leave? He climbed the stairs to the first floor, opened the stairwell door, entered the passageway and headed towards her apartment. The thick carpet in the passageway gave a sense of comfort. The Mad Hatter story came to mind as he paused at Sally’s door. He forced a smile and looked at the door. Would she appreciate someone calling on her if she was sick? The occasions when he’d been sick, the last thing he wanted was someone to drop in on him. No, this wasn’t a good idea. He turned to leave.

Crash!

Jack returned his focus to Sally’s apartment. What was that?

Thud!

That sounded like a body hitting a hard floor. He knocked again, harder. He pressed his ear to the door and heard a soft moan.

“Sally. You okay?” He waited. “It’s Jack Kinnaird.”

Another soft moan. Quieter. It sounded like whoever had fallen was losing consciousness.

“Sally?” His voice raised louder.

Nothing. A car drove by. A bird squawked. Then came a meow from Sally’s apartment. A cat. More meows. The cat was after attention and wasn’t getting it. Something wasn’t right. He tried the door handle, but it didn’t budge. More meows, which now sounded closer to the door. He had a lock pick gun in the boot of the car. He had no choice but to go and retrieve it, and quickly.

A door opened. Jack turned.

A face with large black glasses and ruffled black hair appeared in the doorway of the adjacent apartment to Sally’s.

“Hello. Can I help you?” He stepped into the passageway.  “Are you after Sally? She’s at work.”

Jack revealed his badge. “Yep. I work with Sally. Heard she came home sick. Just checking up on her, but she’s not answering the door.”

Meow.

“That’s her cat. Not like her to meow like that. I feed the cat for Sally when she works late shifts.”

Jack’s heart gave a flutter. “Do you have a key to her apartment?”

“I do.”

Meow.

The neighbour looked at Sally’s door. The shadow of the cat moved across the bottom of the door. “Something is out of whack. I’m sure we’d be able to justify our actions to Sally.”

“I agree.”

The neighbour stepped inside his apartment. The jingle of keys echoed through the passageway. The neighbour walked out dangling the keys and opened the door.

Sally lay still on the kitchen floor. The blue floral dress he’d seen her in earlier had been replaced by comfy lightweight track pants and a matching top. Jack kneeled beside her. Her chest was rising and falling, but ever so slightly. He leant toward her face and listened for her breathing. He gently rolled her arm over and checked her pulse—weak, but still there. “Sally.” He gave her a gentle nudge. “Sally, can you hear me?” No response. He moved her on to her side, onto the recovery position and reached for his phone.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Jack said.

The neighbour stood watching, the cat marching backward and forward between his legs, meows replaced with purrs.

“Can you grab a blanket? We should try and keep her warm.” Jack motioned towards the couch. The neighbour placed the blanket over Sally’s still body.

Jack stood up. “An ambulance is on its way.” He looked at the neighbour and put out his hand. “Sorry, we didn’t get a chance to greet each other. I’m Jack.”

“Mark.”

They shook hands.

Mark knelt beside Sally and gently massaged her forehead. “Help will be here soon, Sally.”

Jack looked around the tidy apartment. Two wine glasses on the sink. She’d had a visitor recently. Why not as her personality would attract many.