InSight

hear better than you, but I’m not Superwoman. I suppose if you wanted to escape, you could sneak out and I wouldn’t know.”
    “Ah, but then you’d report me, and I’d be out on my ass.”
    Abby stifled a smile. “Your choice.”
    “What does your voice sound like?”
    She wondered if a little humor might help to connect. “Deep and husky. Bacall talking to Bogie.”
    He discharged a throaty laugh. “I remember that. Something about teaching him how to whistle. Put your lips together and… blow , wasn’t it?”
    The heat rose on Abby’s face from the sexual implication of McCallister’s tone. This man took pleasure in penetrating her professional façade. “Something to that effect, yes.”
    “Okay, you win. I give up.”
    “This isn’t a win-lose game, Detective. You leave, you lose.” She raised a small recorder. “If you agree, I’ll record this session. It’s the way I take notes. You see, we both have to make adjustments.” He didn’t argue. “I could ask you questions, but I’d rather you tell me how you felt after you learned you were deaf. How you still feel.”
    More shifting, a tongue click, a deep breath, a long exhalation. She waited.
    “I was blindsided, totally unprepared.” He hesitated. “Sorry, bad allusion.”
    “It’s a perfect allusion. I know exactly how that feels, maybe better than you.”
    After a moment of silence, he said, “Yeah, I guess you do.”
    “Let’s get one thing out of the way. I’m not big on political correctness. I don’t tippy-toe around the facts or use words like visually impaired or audibly challenged. I’m blind, you’re deaf. Continue.”
    “I didn’t get all that, but enough. You’re blind, I’m deaf. No tippy-toeing.”
    Silently chastising herself, she said, “Sorry. I’ll speak slower.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I got the gist of what you said. Now, where was I? Right, how I felt.” He paused for a long moment. “I thought when I recovered I could go back to my old job. Instead, the brass assigned me to the damn computer—AFIS, tracking searches, stuff like that.”
    “AFIS?”
    “Automated Fingerprint Identification System. I’m a street cop, Dr. Gallant. I don’t do well sitting behind a desk.”
    “You’re a liability on the street. You have to know that. You wouldn’t want me on the road driving a car, would you?”
    “That’s different.”
    “Is it? Lives are at stake in both situations.”
    McCallister went into another prolonged silence as if he were thinking of the perfect response. Usually a patient’s long pause preceded a significant confession. Just tell the truth, McCallister.
    “You know, this is a mistake,” he said. “I’m not comfortable opening up to a stranger.”
    She heard him rise.
    “In fact, I’m not comfortable opening up to anyone.”
    She didn’t want to lose him. How could she make him see that his job, maybe his future, depended on at least giving the first session his best shot? “What you say won’t leave this room. I offer my professional opinion after we complete our sessions. If you can’t continue, I’ll send the report, and you can deal with your superiors.” He didn’t walk to the door. Then she heard the cushion whoosh again as he sat.
    “I got enough of what you said to know I’m screwed either way, aren’t I?”
    “Like I said, your choice.” She waited a good three minutes. After a deep sigh he started.
    “At first, I didn’t believe the doctors. I thought one morning I’d wake up to the sounds around me, but that didn’t happen. Between the silence and tinnitus buzzing in my ears I thought I’d go out of my mind. I couldn’t read anyone, couldn’t respond, because I didn’t know who said what. I tried to swallow my anger because I hate whiners, but it gnawed in my gut until I thought I’d explode.”
    Good. That’s a start. “Your file says you’re divorced. Did the injury have anything to do with your divorce?”
    “I’m here about my job, Doctor, not my marriage.” His tone took on a hard edge. “After I lost my hearing, I wasn’t the same man my wife married. She deserved better. I’m not proud of it.”
    Now we’re getting somewhere. “Do you think you’re less of a man because you’re deaf?”
    This time she sensed his silent isolation. The quiet, always louder to her than to most, echoed off the walls.
    After a while, he spoke. “Yes. I do.”
    “And does my blindness make me any less a woman?”
    Before he could