Chapter 4: Zephyr In Full Bloom

June

“You’re quiet. Though it’s your hour.” Grohm watched Anderson as he wandered around his office, staring at the bookcases that lined the walls. He watched as he placed his coat rather sloppily over the back of the chair across from his desk. “There must be much on your mind.” His expression was warm.

Anderson inhaled, what did he want to approach with? Would he begin by asking him if there was ulterior reasons for his company with the recent case? Or would he speak of how his involvement would muddy and blur the lines of their relationship, of doctor and patient. “There was another body.” He spoke flatly.

Grohm tilted his head slowly to the left, a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Is there something different about this one?” He felt the floodgates opening as the question fell out from his mind, and through his lips.

Anderson’s brows furrowed as he stood with his arms folded. “What does, Jonquil, represent.” It came out as more of a demand than a question. As if this would determine how he approached his next conversation with Dr.Grohm. 

Grohm was quiet for a long time, what did Jonquil mean? More in a sense of, what did it mean to the sender of the message? What did it add to the lyrics of the poem they were building all for him to read, all for Anderson to solve? “I’m unsure.” He knew full well what the flora meant.

“I find that hard to believe.” Anderson’s voice hissed, what had his temper so thin this afternoon? The question tipped over in Dr.Grohm’s mind.

“The language is vast, Michael.” Anderson’s jaw clenched, his answer was on it’s edge. Grohm watched as Anderson leaned his elbows against the edge of his desk, the fuse in his head burning quickly as the threads slivered and unwound themselves. 

He let out a slow breath, staring at Grohm’s expression rather than his eyes. The slight smile that creased his eyes, it dared him to yell, it dared him to tip himself over the edge. “There’s something ulterior.” He spoke in a gruff mumble.

“Ulterior? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.” Grohm leaned back in his seat, his arms folding against his chest.

“Last week, why were you there.” His question once again came out more akin to a demand. As if he was interrogating Dr.Grohm for a crime, though one he didn’t commit.

“I have an extensive knowledge of anatomy, and flora. It was an obsession of mine one could presume.” He was equally frank as he was sly.

“Aren’t psychologists supposed to be truthful with their patients? To gain their trust?” Anderson’s stance didn’t let up, his posture shifted as his hands held his weight against the desk.

“Not necessarily. It entirely depends on the Psychologist. You just so happen to have a rather unorthodox Psychologist.” The two were quiet for a moment, should he tell him the ulterior motives? The fact that Hanes didn’t think Anderson to be fit on his own to stare and pry at corpses that had been mutilated in horrific ways? “Hanes doesn’t think you to be fit, mentally, to be viewing these crimes alone.” He raised his brows and pursed his lips for a moment in thought. “I wouldn’t disagree with him. Least not in this state.” Grohm’s slight smile softened and lost itself in the waves of thought as he watched his patient.

Anderson lowered his head, was he not fit to be on his own? It felt as if suddenly he was incapable of making his own decisions, as if the world had made up it’s mind and planned his life out for him. First Elizabeth, now Hanes had made the decision for him that his therapist would be working closer with him than initially intended, if intended at all.