Chapter 2: Investigation Deepens

Early morning rays illuminated the hallways of city police headquarters, invigorating everyone with a warm spring glow. The door to the Homicide Division's office was wide open, allowing distant conversations to spill into the corridor.

"Confirmed with the hospital, Mike Evanston was seen in psychiatry three times this month, Dr. Walker was indeed his attending physician," Deputy Captain Cao hanged up the phone and reported to Captain Harper, who was intensely typing up the night's report on his computer.

"Find out when Dr. Walker's available. We need to go see him. Use speakerphone," Captain Harper said, without lifting his gaze from his screen.

The call connected quickly. "Hello, is this Dr. Walker speaking?"

"Yes, it is. Who's calling?"

The voice sounded young and confident. Cao replied, "This is Deputy Captain Cao from South City Police Department's Homicide Division. Have you recently treated a patient by the name of Mike Evanston?"

"Yes, I have," replied Dr. Walker promptly.

"Did you speak with him this morning, around 1:50 a.m.?"

"Yes, at that time," Dr. Walker responded promptly.

Harper, now intrigued, added, "You remember the time quite clearly?"

"It was memorable. He showed a clear intent to harm himself over the phone, so I immediately checked his address and alerted the police," Dr. Walker replied coolly, unfazed by Harper's tone of mild suspicion.

Harper chuckled, "Thanks for the information. Are you available later today for a more detailed statement?"

"Yes, I'm actually at the precinct, but I'm tied up until around eleven. Your office is on the second floor, right?"

Surprised by Dr. Walker's knowledge of the premises, Harper confirmed, "That's correct. Second floor, Homicide Division."

"Got it. And your name is?"

"I'm Captain Joe Harper."

After ending the call, Harper suddenly remembered, "Didn't old man Zheng mention something about a psychiatrist consulting with the team—helping one of our guys, Deputy Wei, who's been struggling psychologically after a shooting incident?"

"That does sound familiar," Cao tried to recall.

Across the street from the bustling precinct office, the figure of a man in a white coat stood out among the sea of police uniforms. Cao leaned over the windowsill, "Isn't that Dr. Walker, the psychiatrist doing the counseling for Deputy Wei?"

Harper, with a wry grin, said, "As far as I know, some psychiatrists have prescription authority and counseling qualifications. The doc Zheng found must be one of those all-around talents."

In one of the precinct's therapy rooms, the light was muted, creating an intimate atmosphere for Dr. Walker's latest session. The patient, a younger officer, was visibly struggling with a traumatic experience, guided by Dr. Walker to envision his fears and confront them through a mix of reality and guided visualization.

"The seaweed wraps around your ankle, pulling tighter..." Dr. Walker's voice changed with the scenario, becoming more stern.

"No!" The officer jolted, accidentally bumping into Dr. Walker's hand.

With a hiss of pain, Dr. Walker quickly smoothed his tone, "Relax. Take a deep breath in and out... It's just a small piece of seaweed. You have the power to overcome it."

"I should... pull it off?"

"That's right, well done," praised the psychiatrist, patting the officer's shoulder before gently guiding him back into a resting position.

Following a successful hypnotherapy session, the officer shook awake, his eyes snapping open as the doctor assured him, "You're safe."

The young cop, still trembling slightly, thanked Dr. Walker who scheduled the next session with Division Chief Zheng.

As the officer left the room, he hesitantly asked Dr. Walker whether he would be able to return to active duty. Dr. Walker did not give a definitive answer but reminded him of the internal psychological evaluation protocols necessary for resuming duty.

Seeing disappointment and frustration written all over the young officer's face, Dr. Walker resumed his consoling tone from their session. "Don't focus on that right now. Like we discussed, the root of the issue is internal. The therapy is merely a tool. You need to internally affirm that drawing your weapon was not a mistake, and then the fear will dissipate. Chief Zheng showed you the inquiry results from the state office; your actions were necessary and correct under the circumstances. You weren't depriving anyone of life without cause; your guilt and remorse are unwarranted."

Officer Wei nodded solemnly, "Thank you, I'll work on understanding that."

"Relax, one step at a time," Dr. Walker continued softly. "Chief Zheng mentioned you're getting back to shooting training. Whenever you feel tense around firearms, remember the relaxation techniques I showed you."

Outside the therapy room, a gathering of officers watched—top among them was Dexter Qu, visibly the most worried since Officer Wei was his college friend. Captains Harper and Cao were approaching.

Qu called out, "Boss, over here!"

"Captain Harper, Captain Cao," the onlookers greeted respectfully.

Cao, with a hint of curiosity, asked, "Where's your team leader?"

"He's out on a case, won't make it back today. But Chief Zheng said he'd drop by to check on Officer Wei," someone replied.

Qu's previously downtrodden spirit lifted, "Chief Zheng himself is coming? That's reassuring."

Harper inquired jokingly, "So it's not reliable unless Chief Zheng is present?"

"Exactly. Have you seen that doctor in there? No offense, but he's just a kid. He looks even younger than me. What kind of experience can he have?" Qu expressed his doubts. "They say he's an expert from the joint project between our department and City Hospital, researching the mental health of frontline officers. But at his age, does he even hold a lead position?"

Cao teased, "Maybe you just look older. He's actually older than you—27."

"How do you know he's 27?"

"I forgot to mention, that doctor is the one who reported this morning's case, the one with the 1892 number."

As they conversed, the therapy room door opened. Harper looked up and saw a handsome young man step out, looking as Qu had described, young, almost as if fresh out of university. His appearance was deceptive, though; his demeanor and dress suggested far more maturity. He wore a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses, his aura cool and detached—hardly someone you could approach easily without already being an acquaintance.

"Dr. Turner?" Qu approached anxiously.

The doctor stopped and nodded courteously.

"How is Officer Wei doing? When can he return to duty?" Qu pressed.

"He's showing some improvement. As for returning to duty, that's up to your department's protocols—I don't decide that," Dr. Turner replied, his tone neutral.

"But... if not duty, then when can he overcome his fear of firearms? He's a cop; this fear could spell the end of his career," Qu insisted with growing impatience.

"Understood... excuse me," Dr. Turner coughed lightly, his voice rough after the long session. He'd just finished an intensive hour and a half of psychological consultation and hypnotherapy. As the therapist, he needed his verbal cues to be constant and direct, guiding the subject into the intended mental state. Focused on maintaining safety throughout the session, Dr. Turner had barely had time for a drink of water and was about to step out to quench his thirst.

"Need some water?" Harper had already noted Dr. Turner's hoarse voice and handed him a bottle conveniently grabbed from a nearby office.

"Thanks," said Dr. Turner, their fingers briefly touching as the bottle changed hands.

Harper frowned slightly, catching a subtle hint of sandalwood emanating from the doctor's wrist, coupled with the coldness of his hands—it rendered an impression of someone aloof and not easily approachable.

"It's Captain Harper, right?" Dr. Turner suddenly spoke.

"Oh? We've not met before, have we?" Harper replied, slightly taken aback.

"I've seen—you," Dr. Turner said with a smile, "your picture, on the promotional board by the entrance."

"When did they change that? I don't remember having one," Harper mused, accustomed to seeing only motivational slogans and commendable articles from the department.

"Ah, it's for the new recruits, to showcase the spirit of our squad. Your photo and a few others are right there in the lobby—glamour shots in uniform to inspire them," Cao jested.

"And besides me?" Harper asked, not entirely amused.

"Don't worry, you're the standout among the seasoned vets! Along with you, we've just got some fresh faces, rookies who haven't been through an all-nighter investigation yet—unlike us seasoned folks," Cao said with a touch of nostalgia.

Harper, about to retort, held back a curse in front of company, maintaining a cultured demeanor, "Get it straight—it ain't us, it's just you showing the mileage."

"Who's showing mileage?" Chief Zheng's voice boomed, resonating down the hall.

"Chief, that's not my claim," Harper quickly extricated himself from Cao's framing.

"Chief Zheng," greeted Dr. Turner.

Chief Zheng gave a familiar clap on Dr. Turner's shoulder, then scanned the group with a more serious expression, "Everyone back to work. Aren't you reassured with me here?"

"Yes, sir," the officers dispersed.

Chief Zheng, noticing Harper lingered, asked, "Joe, anything the matter?"

"Yes, I need to record a statement with Dr. Turner about this morning's case," Harper replied.

"Oh," Chief Zheng looked at Dr. Turner with concern, "Was Mike Evanston your patient?"