‘Strathcona. On Heatley.’ Dr Ostermann adjusted his glasses, then looked over at Striker with a concerned look on his face. ‘May I ask why this is important?’

Striker nodded but did not answer the question. ‘What were you driving today?’

The doctor shrugged. ‘My own personal vehicle.’

‘Which is?’

‘A BMW. An X5. It’s black.’

‘And were you alone?’

‘Yes, completely. Detective, have I done something wrong here?’

Striker looked up from his notebook and met the man’s stare. ‘We’re just verifying things, sir. We have to. And these are all pretty standard questions.’

Dr Ostermann said nothing. He moved to the corner of the room where there was a liquor cart and poured himself a glass of amber-coloured booze. He brought it to his lips, drained the glass, then refilled it.

‘I must say,’ he began. ‘I’ve had the unfortunate experience of having my patients commit suicide on previous occasions, you know. Yet no officer has ever asked me questions like this, so forgive me if they don’t sound standard.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ Striker replied. ‘But this time there are unique details we need to rule out. Your vehicle was seen in the area at roughly the same time as her death. You were also her doctor. Time and connection, that’s why we’re here – to gain some history on Mandy Gill, because right now we have nothing.’

Dr Ostermann made a sad face. ‘That’s because there’s not much to know, I’m afraid. Mandy didn’t have any family. Her mother’s name was Janelle. She passed away years ago, not that it mattered. All ties had been severed between them years before. When Janelle and the father broke up, she just packed up her things and moved out east. Left everyone behind.’

‘Mother of the Year,’ Felicia said.

The doctor only nodded. ‘It was quite sad. After her father’s incarceration all Mandy had left was one cousin, and he perished in an explosion – a fact I’m sure you’re already well aware of.’

Striker nodded but said nothing to that fact. ‘What about friends?’ he asked. ‘Did she have anyone close to her?’

The doctor said nothing for a long moment. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘Mandy was close to only one other person that I know of – another patient of mine, in fact. It was a relationship I never approved of from the start, and I did everything in my power to put a stop to it.’

Striker and Felicia shared a quick glance.

‘Who?’ Striker asked.

The doctor bit his lip as he mulled it over. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t say anything at this point in time – patient confidentiality and all.’

Striker stepped forward. ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Doctor. There are some things about the death that are concerning to us – things I cannot discuss. But I really would like to speak with this other patient of yours who knew Mandy. It’s absolutely crucial.’

Dr Ostermann sipped his drink. Swallowed. Let out a fluttery breath.

‘I understand that, Detective. I do. But this particular patient of mine is very . . . fragile right now. And this will most definitely come as a shock to him. There’s no telling how he’ll react.’ He frowned. ‘Not well, I presume. Let me talk to him first. I’ll inform him of what has occurred. Then I’ll explain to him that you will be in contact.’

‘I would appreciate that, Doctor. As I’ve said, this is very important, and time is critical.’

Dr Ostermann looked up at the clock. It was now just after ten. He extended his hand. ‘Very well. I will call you first thing in the morning then.’

‘As early as possible,’ Striker replied. He thanked Dr Ostermann for his time and gave the man his card. Then looked at Felicia, and they took their leave. At the door of the library, Striker stopped. He turned back and met the doctor’s stare one last time.

‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘Do you ever work at Mapleview?’

Dr Ostermann shook his head. ‘No. I work at Riverglen now. I also do some outreach programmes. Actually, I do quite a few of them with many different Mental Health Teams. Strathcona, for one. Am I not in your police database?’

Striker ignored the question. ‘Must be a difficult job at times.’

‘The career of a psychiatrist is never easy, Detective. There always seems to be another tragedy waiting around the corner.’ Dr Ostermann gave them both a quick look and forced out a waxy smile. ‘My profession is much like yours, I fear. In some ways, our paths are quite similar. We’ll talk tomorrow, either here or at Riverglen.’

Felicia said goodnight, but Striker only nodded.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll find you.’

Twenty-One

They were leaving.

Striker reached for the front door of the Ostermann house when it suddenly opened on him and a cold powerful wind blew inside, filling the foyer with an immediate chill. Stepping through the front door were the two people Striker had seen in the photographs on the mantelpiece, back in the library.

The first one through the doorway was the young man. Maybe seventeen. He moved with the awkward laziness of every teenage boy Striker had ever known – a kid whose body was growing too fast for his mind and coordination to keep up with. His wild, jet-black hair looked blown all over the place – or maybe that was the way it naturally stood – and his deep green eyes focused on Striker with a look of ambivalence.

‘Ah, the children are home,’ Dr Ostermann said. He gestured to the young man. ‘This is my son, Gabriel.’

‘Nice to meet you, Gabriel,’ Striker said.

Felicia said hello, too.

Gabriel said nothing at first; his eyes just moved from Striker to Felicia, then stayed there for a long moment. He smiled.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Hello.’

‘And this, of course, is Dalia,’ Dr Ostermann continued.

Striker turned his eyes from the young man to the young woman. In some ways, they looked similar. In others, completely different.

‘It’s good to meet you,’ Striker said to the young woman.

She just looked back at him, saying nothing. Finally, she nodded slowly, as if only now making the connection that he was standing in front of her.

Striker found the moment odd. When he gave Felicia a quick glance, the expression on her face told him that she felt the strangeness, too. He looked once more at Gabriel, then at Dalia, and felt an underlying tension in the foyer as they looked back at him.

But they didn’t really look back at him; they looked at nothing. The boy’s green eyes were piercing and focused; the girl’s were black and hollow and distant, and they looked right through him. Analysed him.

He didn’t like it.

‘We really should go,’ Felicia finally said.

Before Striker could respond, the girl spoke up. ‘Why are they here?’ she said to her father.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said.

The girl’s eyes never shifted. ‘It’s obviously something, or they wouldn’t be here.’

The doctor’s face turned red with embarrassment. ‘It’s none of your business, child. It’s regarding the clinic.’

Gabriel’s eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Are they here about Billy—’

‘ENOUGH!’ the doctor roared.

The girl and boy didn’t so much as flinch; they just stood there and said nothing. As if hearing the commotion, Lexa quickly appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘Children, children,’ she said softly.

She came down the stairs into the foyer and ushered the two youths away from their father – away from Striker and Felicia. As she did so, she stole a quick glance at Striker and said, ‘I’m sorry, there is just . . . a lot of stress, right now.’ Her beautiful face was hard, and her eyes almost watery.

Striker put on his best warm smile. ‘You’re talking to a father who has a teenage daughter – I know.’