Truelle considered for a second. ‘That was the sixth, I believe. Fifth or sixth. We had eight or nine conventional sessions before deciding to try hypnosis in order to dig deeper.’
‘Presumably because you didn’t feel you were getting that far with conventional sessions?’
‘Exactly.’ Truelle’s hands on his desktop, fingertips pressed together in a cradle, parted for a second. ‘Don’t get me wrong. There was someprogress conventionally. But I just felt that if he proved a good subject, we’d make progress ten-times faster with hypnosis.’ The hands opened and closed again. ‘He was, and we did.’
‘I see.’ Jac looked briefly at the notes he’d made earlier. ‘How often were the sessions?’
‘Twice a week, normally. Every Monday and Thursday. Except for a couple of weeks where I could only see him once because I had such a busy appointment book.’
Jac nodded. He doubted that under normal circumstance Truelle would have recalled the days that far back; but having to repeat the same thing at both the trial and appeal three years later, it had no doubt become ingrained. Jac nodded towards the tape recorder.
‘And this session, number fourteen, was the last you had with Durrant? You contacted the police straight after?’
Truelle shuffled slightly in his seat. ‘Not immediately after. I wanted a short while to think over the implications, ethics of confidentiality in particular.’ Truelle forced a tight smile. ‘So first thing I did was cancel Durrant’s next session to give me some time to consider. But when I checked, confidentiality didn’t stretch as far as a murder confession. In fact, if I’d withheld the information — I could have been implicated as an accessory.’ Truelle opened and closed the cradle again. Trapped within it. ‘So in the end I had little choice. But, for that reason, there was a two-day delay from Durrant making the confession to my contacting the police.’
Jac rubbed his forehead. If it wasn’t for his earlier notes, he’d have had trouble continuing. But he found it hard to push his focus beyond them, as he’d planned when he first made them: thoughts about Thallerey kept bouncing back, crowding out all else. If both crashes weren’t just accidents, how had whoever was responsible made the connection between him and Thallerey?Thallerey’s name had only come up when John Langfranc interviewed Coyne. And as far as Jac could remember, he himself hadn’t mentioned planning to visit Thallerey to anyone; in fact, he’d only phoned once to Thallerey’s office just before he went back into work that first day back.
‘So, fourteen sessions over two months?’ Jac confirmed. ‘All recorded and with diary entries to match?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Truelle took the tape out of the recorder, and Jac caught the heavy scent of cologne, along with something else. Peppermint? ‘The trial judge ordered that I keep everything relating to Durrant until all possible appeals and pleas were exhausted. Which I suppose would include this plea now.’ Truelle’s smile this time was more hesitant, his cheeks slightly flushed. Reminder perhaps of Durrant’s life hanging in the balance with what they were discussing. Truelle cleared his throat. ‘Is there anything at this stage that might have given you cause for concern regarding the evidence against Durrant?’
‘No. Not particularly.’ Jac contemplated Truelle coolly. From the transcripts, Truelle had been given a hammering at trial and appeal over both the reliability of hypnosis and the ethics of revealing the tape. Despite any residual concern Truelle might have for Durrant, he was obviously more concerned that his reputation might again be brought into question. ‘Except, that is, whether it’s right to execute a man whose mind is still only half-clear regarding what he was doing around that time.’
‘Yes, I can appreciate that.’ Truelle swallowed, his flush becoming deeper. ‘But apart from that, nothing particularly untoward?’
‘No. Nothing untoward.’ From Truelle’s expression, it was obvious he’d had somestabs of conscience about Durrant over the years. Jac eased back. After the grilling at both trials, little point in putting him through it again now; especially if he might later need his co-operation in answering more questions. Jac shrugged. ‘Durrant has some doubts in his own mind about his guilt, mainly because of some promises he made to his family at the time. But that on its own isn’t really sufficient to — ’
Telephone! The thought hit Jac in that instant like a thunderbolt.
He’d called Thallerey from his home telephone that first morning, and been told at the time that he was away till later in the week at a medical convention. That’s how they’d made the link and knew that he was keen to see Thallerey, plus also found out where Thallerey was! The other call he’d made at that same time had been to Truelle.
Truelle, the desk, and the room beyond suddenly seemed more distant, Jac’s ears ringing with the sudden blood-rush to his head. Truelle was eyeing him curiously.
Jac blinked slowly as he fought to regain some clarity.
‘I’m sorry. I… I know this might seem a strange question. But has there been any interference with your phones recently — either here or at your home? Someone perhaps listening in?’
‘No, I… I don’t believe so.’
Slight hesitation from Truelle. Fazed by the sudden change of direction, or something else at the back of his mind? Jac pressed him again. ‘Or anything that’s happened with your car recently that might have looked like an accident on the face of it, or come close to it? Or any other incident where you feel your life might have been put in danger?’
‘Why? In what way?’
As crazy as Jac knew he risked sounding, he felt he had to say something. If they’d monitored and targeted himself, they might well have done the same with others; which meant Truelle could be next. With a fresh breath, he explained about his recent encounter with a truck, his brakes failing and his car plunging into Lake Pontchartrain.
‘I was lucky to escape alive,’ Jac said. Truelle’s face had clouded, his hands now clenched tight together. Jac shrugged, as if to make light of it. ‘The police say that it was an accident, natural failure — though I have strong doubts. And with the call I made just before coming here, in which I learnt that Dr Thallerey died last night, also in a car accident — I now believe I was right to have those doubts.’
Truelle looked perplexed, struggling to make sense of what Jac was saying, and, as he asked who Dr Thallerey was and got Jac’s answer, he in turn blinked slowly, heavily. No doubt thinking along similar lines: why on earth would anyone kill Jessica Roche’s old obstetrician?
‘I… I don’t see,’ Truelle said, gesturing once more with his hands.
‘Me neither, as to why.’ Jac shrugged. ‘All I know is that I phoned to arrange to see Dr Thallerey — then the next day he was dead. And the other person I phoned that same morning was yourself, Dr Truelle.’
Jac saw it hit Truelle then, saw him flinch; but it was almost as if it was a blow he’d been half-prepared for. He looked anxious more than surprised.
‘And you… you think that I might be next?’ Truelle’s voice was tremulous, his attempt at a weak smile lopsided.
‘Of course, it might all be just coincidence.’ Jac grimaced tautly. ‘But it would have been remiss of me not to say anything. Though obviously I’ll know more once I’ve — ’
Jac stopped himself then, struck as to just why Truelle might not have at the same time been targeted. Or at least onegood reason why.
And suddenly some of Truelle’s words, rather than politely enquiring, became more ominous: ‘…. Anything at this stage that might have given you cause for concern?…But apart from that, nothing particularly untoward? Truelle had been fishing for what Jac might know!
Jac’s pulse throbbed tight at his temples. He had to get out of here now, couldn’t risk saying any more; though with his lips suddenly dry and his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, it felt as if he’d hardly be able to.