”“Oh, he’s a resident.”“Hold on.” Dave consulted a torn and tattered list of residents, as a dutiful guard would when faced with something...he didn’t know. He didn’t bother to talk to his ‘friend’ in the booth with him. He turned back to the men in the car, “There’s no one living here with that last name or even close. We have a student Elton Cleats, an older couple Olive and Stan Carter, and a Chris Carlos. Those are about the only names starting with ‘C’ we have. It is a ‘C’, right, and not a. Roberts is ready for you."Sam entered the therapist's sanctum sanctorum: It was a richly appointedroom, with dark walls, the depth of the darkness accented by drawn curtainsand the black furniture. The one spot of light seemed to be a small lamp onthe doctor's desk. There was a high-backed swivel chair behind the desk,turned to the windows, so that Sam could not see it's occupant.Suddenly, the chair turned and Sam was stunned by his first sight of thetherapist. "Hello, Sam, I'm Dr. Roberts.". More

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