One Night in Weaver... (7 page)

Which left just enough room for doubt about his motives that it made his neck itch worse than the damn tie.

Hayley Templeton was an ethical woman. She wasn’t going to tell him anything about what went on in her sessions with any of her patients.

Except she was starting to trust him. Or she never would have had him drop her off at the home of her distressed “friend.”

Still, she wouldn’t tell him anything about what went on in her sessions. Not intentionally.

He muttered an oath that inside the church would probably have had the roof caving in on him and turned around to head back to his truck. He’d had to park down the street because the small lot alongside the church was already overflowing. He yanked the tie loose as he went.

By the time he was driving away, the church doors had been pulled shut. He figured that probably meant that the ceremony was about to begin. Hayley would be occupied. It wasn’t likely that she’d even notice his absence among that crowd, crammed inside and breaking every occupancy limit law there was.

Because Casey was related to practically half the town’s law keepers, Seth doubted there’d be any complaints lodged on that particular score.

He would have stopped at Colbys for a beer, except the place was closed up tight so Jane’s employees could go to the wedding and reception. Ruby’s was closed, too. Not that they served alcohol over there anyway. There were a handful of other places in town he could have gone, but he passed them all by, too, and finally found himself back at Cee-Vid.

Nobody was working at that hour on a Saturday. He made his way unimpeded through the cubicles of the game design floor and back to the security office, where he entered his security code, which allowed entrance to Control through a well-hidden door in the wall. Once inside the communications center, he encountered other Hollins-Winword personnel.

Clay family wedding or not, guardians would always be on watch over Hollins-Winword’s best in the field. He grunted acknowledgment of the handful of preoccupied greetings he received and sat down in his usual seat in front of a bank of computer screens spread across the wall. But he didn’t log into the system. There was no point because, like it or not, his head was still back at the church, imagining Hayley inside.

It was a helluva thing to face the fact that when he was with her, he couldn’t get rid of the thought of work. And when he was at work, he couldn’t get rid of thoughts of her. Maybe the two areas of his life could have coexisted just fine if not for one thing: McGregor’s so-called amnesia.

He pinched the knot in his brow, pushed his chair back and propped his heels on the edge of the console in front of him.

And there, despite the occasional, curious comments he got from the others, he stayed for the next several hours. Until he was certain that there’d be no chance of having that dance he’d told Hayley to save.

* * *

“I haven’t seen pretty boy here.” Sam plopped down on the chair next to Hayley with a flutter of taupe-colored tulle and silk charmeuse and handed her one of the champagne flutes she was carrying. “Weren’t you expecting him?”

Hayley shrugged, trying not to let her disappointment show. “He probably had to work or something.” She sipped the champagne and watched the dancers on the portable floor that had been set up beneath the huge white tent. It didn’t matter that the dinner had been served, the cake cut, the toasts made. Even though the bride and groom had already left the party—as had a good number of guests, including Jane’s sister, who’d been the third bridesmaid—the entire place was still crowded with people celebrating.

There weren’t many locations in Weaver equipped to handle such a sizeable wedding reception, so Jane and Casey had created their own venue on the expansive property just outside of town that was owned by Casey’s sister and brother-in-law. In deference to the evening chill, propane heaters burned in several locations, and they, along with the heat from the guests themselves, were doing an admirable job of keeping the tented area cozy. So cozy that neither Sam nor Hayley had had to use the wraps that Isabella had created to go with their tea-length gowns.

“Sorry,” Sam murmured quietly. “I know you were looking forward to seeing him, Hay.”

“I was.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. “But things happen. I’m sure he had a reason.” She took another small sip of champagne. “I also wish my grandmother would have come to the reception. Even she would have been impressed with the setup here. Not a single detail’s been missed.”

Sam nodded, looking around the tent’s elegantly appointed interior. “At least Vivian made it to the wedding,” she said. “I saw her sitting next to Sloan and Abby.”

“For a while. I thought she’d be more comfortable sitting with them.” Abby was an old schoolmate of Hayley’s cousin from Braden. She’d recently married Sloan McCray, who worked with Sam at the sheriff’s department. “She just wasn’t comfortable enough to stay very long. She claims she has a headache, but—” She waved her hand. “You know Abby’s a nurse. She and Sloan were kind enough to drive Vivian back home for me. She said Vivian seemed agitated at the church, but once they left, she calmed down and was fine when they dropped her off. I don’t know if the headache is real, or if it’s just another one of Vivian’s excuses. When she first came to town, she wanted to know who everyone was and what they were doing.”

“I remember.” Sam started to prop her ankle on her knee but then thought better of it, tugging with some annoyance at the fluff of skirt billowing out around her slender ankles. “When you introduced us to her at the harvest festival after Halloween last year, she was all about getting clued in to who, what and where. I remember thinking she would fit right into Weaver—even if she does go around wearing fancy clothes—as long as she likes gossip.”

“Of which Weaver has plenty,” Hayley finished. “She was interested at first. But she’s been getting more and more reclusive. Particularly the past few months. We talked a lot last night and I thought we were making progress.”

“You did. She came to the wedding. Criminy. Everyone was there. Even Jane’s ex-husband came.” Sam bumped her shoulder against Hayley’s. “Talk about a hottie. Casey’s a good-looking guy, but Gage Stanton?” Sam fanned herself, smiling wickedly. “I could think of a few wonderfully naughty things to do with him.”

“Tall, dark and handsome does it for you?”

“Tall, rich and temporary does it for me,” Sam countered with a laugh. “Jane says he’s a workaholic and so am I. It’s a match made in hottie heaven.”

“Except you live here and he lives in Colorado.”

“Details shmetails,” Sam countered dismissively. “I hear the advantage of all that money is that silly little problems like that are easily solved.”

“You wouldn’t sleep with Jane’s ex-husband,” Hayley scolded. “And you know it.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s lips curled. Her hair was several shades darker blond than Hayley’s. She usually wore it in a no-nonsense, shoulder-length bob, but this evening, it surrounded her head in a tumble of soft waves that she kept pushing impatiently away from her face. “S’pose you’re right. I’m surprised Casey wasn’t bugged by Gage coming, though. He’s Jane’s
ex
. A little weird, if you ask me.”

“Vivian thought it was unseemly. She told me so when I called a little while ago to check up on her. I told her the same thing I’ll tell you—Casey’s not threatened by Jane’s past, and she’s not threatened by his. They’re adults who trust each other and who’ve made a commitment to each other, and that’s where their focus rightfully is.”

“How
adult
of you,” Sam drawled. “If my man’s ex came sniffing around at my wedding, I’d want to scratch out her eyes.”

Hayley muffled a laugh. “Nobody’s sniffing around anyone, Sam.”

“More’s the pity.” Sam polished off the rest of her champagne and stood. “I’m going for more before they run out. You?”

Hayley shook her head as she held up her flute that was still more than half full.

“Lightweight,” Sam accused with a smile and turned to make her way across the tented area to the bar set up on the other side.

Hayley stood, too, but only to circle around to the table where a pile of wedding gifts had collected over the course of the evening. She was housesitting for Jane and Casey while they were on their honeymoon, so she’d told them that she’d cart the items back to their place. They could open them when they returned from Europe in a few weeks. She selected two of the largest presents and carried them out of the tent to her car, which was parked nearby, thanks to the organization of J.D.

It wasn’t long before she had help. Soon the gift table was cleared and Hayley’s little sedan was jammed. Back inside the tent, Sam was on the dance floor, champagne glass in one hand as she danced with one of Casey’s cousins. Hayley was one of very few left who didn’t possess the name of Clay, and because it was pretty much only family members who were still hanging on, Hayley figured it was okay if she left.

She retrieved her wrap from where she’d left it at the head table, fastened the sparkly glass button that held it together in front and quickly made the rounds for goodbyes. She returned to her car and got in, gathering up the voluminous layers of finely woven sheer fabric around her legs so she could get the door closed.

When she’d spoken earlier with Vivian, Hayley had promised to bring home some aspirin for her after the reception. It wasn’t really late yet, not even ten o’clock, according to the DJ on the radio. But the only place in town open on a Saturday evening was Shop-World. Fortunately, the big-box store was on her way home.

When she walked through the brightly lit entrance a little while later, she decided that the convenience almost made up for traipsing through the place dressed in taupe-colored froth.

She found the aspirin, remembered they needed coffee and a few other items, and exited the store a half-hour later pushing a cart with a noisy wheel and several bulging bags.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go but Shop-World?”

She stopped short just outside the exit, the squeaking wheel going mercifully silent, and felt a tangle of emotions at the sight of Seth. He was heading into the store that she was so quickly leaving. “My grandmother needed some aspirin.” Without benefit of propane heaters and an encompassing tent, the night was cold and she shivered beneath her wrap. “This place was on my way.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it.” He wore dark jeans and a jacket open down the front enough that she could see a white shirt beneath. Not his typical black T-shirt at all.

“It’s too bad.” She was absolutely mortified to feel her throat tightening with tears and wished she could just chalk it up to an overfull day. “It was a really nice party,” she managed. “Everyone seemed to enjoy it.” Even she had managed to keep up a front of enjoyment over the disappointment swamping her when she’d realized he wasn’t coming.

She shivered again and started gathering up the handles of the plastic bags inside her cart. Easier to carry them than listen to the racket of that noisy wheel. And escaping quickly was becoming paramount.

“Hayley.”

“I need to get this aspirin to Vivian,” she said abruptly. “She had to leave early because of a headache.” Hayley was developing one, too. Every pin holding her chignon in place seemed to be digging through to her brain.

She lifted the bags from the cart and turned hurriedly toward the parking lot, where she’d left her car beneath one of the tall, beaming lights. Her dressy, high-heeled shoes provided no comfort at all as she quickly walked away from Seth. Even as used to wearing heels as she was, her feet were screaming at her.

She heard his footsteps behind her, providing a whisper of a warning before she felt his hand catch her arm from behind.

“Hayley.”

She turned faster than she realized and the weight of her purchases whipped around, too, knocking right into him before the thin plastic split and seven pounds of coffee beans landed at their feet, exploding in a shower of aromatic shrapnel.

Chapter Six

“D
ammit!” Hayley stared down as the beans showered to the ground, immediately followed by the plastic bottle containing her grandmother’s aspirin and an industrial-sized box of tampons.

“What happened to
sugarnuts
?”

The tears had worked their way from Hayley’s throat to the backs of her eyes and she blinked hard. She adjusted her hold on the remaining bags so she wouldn’t drop them and crouched to grab the box of tampons. “Unless you plan to wash my mouth out with soap, I think I’m safe,” she said thickly. She shoved the box out of sight inside one of the other bags and looked around for the aspirin bottle that was the sole reason she’d stopped at the store in the first place. She didn’t see it anywhere.

His hands slid under her arms and he gently lifted her. “Your dress’ll get dirty spreading out like that all over the ground.”

“Fortunately, I never have to wear it again.” The waspish words escaped as she found herself standing once more. She sent a silent apology to Isabella for the slight against the lovely dress and didn’t look at him as she shook one foot to dislodge the coffee beans that had snuck between her toes.

“That’d be a shame, considering how pretty you look. Why are you shaking your foot like that?”

She immediately stopped, even though there was still a hard little bead underneath the ball of her foot. She realized he’d somehow maneuvered the remaining bags out of her hands.

“It’s dark outside.” Her voice was flat. “You have no idea how I look.”

He caught her elbow with his free hand and steered her the last several feet toward the circle of yellow light shining down around her car. “I know enough. You have your keys, I assume?”

She managed not to cringe as she turned away from him and pulled the key fob out from where she’d tucked it down the front of her strapless gown.

Her attempt at subtlety obviously had failed, though he said nothing more than a low “hmm” when she brushed past him to unlock the car door. The second she pulled it open and the interior light came on, she realized her next problem.

With all the gifts packed inside, there was barely enough room for
her
to get in, much less add the contents of her four surviving grocery bags. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud.”

He tilted his head at an angle as he studied the dilemma. “Trunk just as bad?”

In answer, she hit the button, and the trunk lid popped open. He moved around to the back of the car and blew out a low whistle.

“I’ll figure it out.” That seemed to be the lifelong pursuit she’d chosen, after all. Figuring it all out. And if she weren’t still so...so...hurt that he’d been a no-show, she wouldn’t be bothered by that fact at all. Instead, even though he’d never made her any promises, she felt like a teenaged girl who’d been stood up for the prom. “Just leave the bags on the ground,” she finished, her voice flat.

He gave her a look.

She huffed and gathered the wrap more closely around her shoulders.

“At least start up the car and get the heater going,” he suggested in a reasonable tone that grated on her nerves. “I’ll do some rearranging.”

“I don’t need your—” She pressed her lips together on the unvoiced “help” when he gave her another long look. “Fine.” Tossing out her hands, she got into the car, started up the engine and flipped on the heater.

Even though she’d been in the store for only half an hour, all the heater did was blow out air just as cold as that outside the opened car door. It would take several minutes before it started to warm. She fished the last coffee bean from her shoe, then got out of the car and headed back toward the area where she’d dropped the bags, hoping to find the bottle of aspirin so she wouldn’t have to make another trip inside the store.

The only thing she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and get the day over with so she could start fresh again tomorrow. When she worked with her female clients who felt that way, she informally referred to it as having a “Scarlett moment.” Everyone had their metaphorical Tara. A breathing space. A haven to lick wounds and plan for a better time.

She was no different.

She heard him close her trunk as she walked in a widening circle around the coffee graveyard, peering down for a glimpse of the small white bottle among the smattering of cars parked nearby.

“It’s cold.” Seth joined her and settled his jacket over her shoulders, right on top of the thin wrap. “Tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll find it.”

She’d automatically grasped the sides of his leather jacket as the warmth it still bore, heady and full of a promise she knew better than to trust, encompassed her. “The aspirin bottle.” Her voice was husky. “I should go back in and buy another.”

“I’ll find the bottle,” he said again and gently pushed her in the direction of the car. “Go sit in your car and get warm.”

Because the tears were burning again, she did what he said. Huddled in the worn-soft jacket that smelled like him, she fitted her voluminous skirt around her legs again and pulled the car door closed.

She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and exhaled slowly. Inhaled slowly.

She focused on the feel of the car engine rumbling smoothly underneath her, the heater vents finally blowing out some warmth and Blake Shelton’s deep voice crooning sweet nothings from the radio. By the time Seth rapped his knuckles on the window beside her, she’d cobbled her composure together once again.

She lifted her head and rolled down the window so he could pass her the found aspirin bottle.

“It rolled behind someone’s tire,” he said.

“Thanks.” She started to roll up the window once more but he closed his fingers over the top of it, stopping her.

“I wanted to be there.”

She dragged her eyes away from the tips of his long fingers so close to her face and ran her thumb back and forth over the inside ridges on the bottom of her steering wheel.

She could and would hold on to the calm she’d regained.

“You don’t have to explain.”

He propped his arm on the top of the car and leaned down so he could see better into the car. “I feel like I need to. I had some stuff inside my head I was trying to work out.”

To a psychologist’s ear, the line was pretty unimaginative. She tucked her tongue behind her teeth for a moment and gave him a sideways look. “And did you work it out?”

His lips twisted. “Wish I could say I had, but—” He broke off and shook his head. Then he softly thumped his hand against the top of the car. “Would’ve liked to have had that dance,” he said with an odd finality and straightened. “Be careful driving home, Doc.”

He turned and started walking away, his white shirt looking ghostly in the dark.

She realized then that she was still wearing his jacket, and she quickly got back out of the car. “Seth!” Leaving the car running, she hurried after him, holding out his jacket. “You forgot this.”

He reached out and his hand brushed hers as he slowly took the coat from her.

She started to pull away, but his fingers followed and tangled with hers.

She went still on the outside, but on the inside all of her hard-won calm dispersed like dandelion fluff in the wind. Her blood suddenly rushed through her veins and she looked at him, wishing that she could see his expression.

But it was much, much too dark.

Then he shook his head a little. “Sugarnuts,” he muttered and dropped his jacket on the ground as he stepped closer, sliding his arms around her beneath her wrap, tightening his hold until their bodies were suddenly flush.

Her knees went weak and a shaking breath leaked past her lips. “Seth—”

“Shh.” His lips brushed her temple. “Just listen.”

The only thing she could hear was her pulse throbbing inside her head. Or maybe it was his.

But after a moment that felt endless, she finally realized that his feet had begun moving slowly in time to the faint music coming from her car radio.

Warmth swept through her chest, spreading ever outward until she forgot everything around them as they danced to the song. Then to another. And another, right there on the dwindling edge of light cast by the light fixture near her car.

And he didn’t stop. Not until headlights swept over them as a car passed nearby.

Only then did he finally step away.

He folded her hand around his arm and escorted her back to her waiting car. He tucked her dress around her legs when she sat down in the driver’s seat, and without another word, he gently closed the door between them and walked away.

Aching inside, Hayley watched him go.

He didn’t head toward the brightly lit store.

He just disappeared into the darkness.

The DJ on her radio was talking, but his words might as well have been gibberish and she turned it off. The air coming out of the heater vents was hot, and she turned that off, as well.

Then she wiped the moisture from her cheeks, fastened her safety belt and drove home.

Vivian was sound asleep on the couch. Hayley left the aspirin bottle on the coffee table where her grandmother would be sure to see it when she woke. Then she soundlessly went into her bedroom, leaned back against the closed door and pressed her hand flat against her heart.

It was still there, right inside her chest. She could feel it beating.

Which seemed odd considering Seth had stolen it from her in the parking lot at Shop-World.

* * *

Two days later, Hayley walked into the subterranean room that Jason McGregor had taken to calling “Home, Sweet Home.” He’d even scratched out the words on the wall above the two-way mirror that Hayley insisted be deactivated during their sessions.

“Good afternoon, Jason.” She didn’t usually carry a notepad into their meetings, but she had one with her today. She set it on the small shelf alongside the side chair where she made herself comfortable. Jason was sitting on the bed across the room with his back against the wall. He was barefoot as usual, and today, he’d also shunned his loose-fitting cotton shirt.

Which left the array of old, faded scars crisscrossing his chest and arms on display.

She didn’t comment on them, though, instead focusing on the splint on his hand and wrist. “How is your hand feeling today?”

“Like I punched it through the wall last week.” His voice was flat and he didn’t look at her. “I want some books to read.”

It had been just over two weeks since she’d first met him, but this was the first time he’d asked anything of her. She considered it a huge step forward, though she hid her surprised relief. “Anything in particular?”

“Fiction.”

“Are there authors that you prefer?”

“Don’t care. Figure getting my head in a book is the only way I’m gonna get outta here.”

“Okay.” She glanced at the tray of food sitting on a small chest of drawers that, along with the bed and her chair, made up the room’s sparse furnishings. He’d already reduced a desk to splinters and torn to shreds a second chair during one of his fits of temper. They hadn’t been replaced. “Doesn’t look like you’ve eaten much of your lunch.”

“Why do you keep coming here every day?”

“Why do you suppose?” She waited a beat. “Because I’m the eternal optimist. And it’s my job to help you.”

His eyes finally shifted to her. The expression in them was as flat as it always was. “Help the crazy guy remember that he killed his partners?”

She didn’t flinch. He wasn’t a fool. He knew what he was suspected of having done even though there was still no actual evidence. Tristan had admitted that if it weren’t for the government’s involvement, they wouldn’t have been able to keep him in custody for this long. Not when they couldn’t establish a motive, and the only evidence he’d been involved in his partners’ deaths was circumstantial. But Tristan was also convinced Jason was better off under his watch than the government’s. “Did you kill them?”

“How should I know?” He finally showed some emotion, shoving his fingers through his unkempt hair and pushing off the bed to pace around the room. He was pale and too thin; the blue drawstring pants hung on his hips. “The only freaking thing I remember is my name.”

He grimaced and swore even more viciously. “What I thought was my name.” He gestured at the mirror and the people he still believed were watching their sessions even though Hayley had assured him otherwise many times. “They’re the ones who told me it’s really Jason.”

All of this she also knew. She uncrossed her ankles and set her notepad on her lap. “I’d like to try something new, if you’re willing.” She reached into the side pocket of her slacks, her fingertips brushing over the panic button as she extracted the short pencil that, along with the notebook, was all she’d been allowed to bring in with her. Jason wasn’t even allowed plastic eating utensils at this point because he was far too adept at causing damage with even the most innocent of objects.

He wasn’t suicidal. But he definitely had bouts of rage. Considering everything he’d been going through for the past several months, even those fits probably stemmed from reasonable cause.

“Hypnosis,” she finished.

He snorted and returned to sit on the bed with his back against the wall, his long legs crossed. “Doesn’t work.”

“How do you know?” She’d spent enough time with him now to feel confident that his condition wasn’t an act. He truly did not remember anything. Physical causes for his amnesia had already been ruled out before he’d been placed under Tristan’s “care.” Which left the psychological. He could very well have been involved in the death of his partners, but if so, she honestly believed he couldn’t recall the memory. “Do you remember?” she asked with a faint smile.

He bared his teeth in a humorless grimace. “Don’t quit your day job, Doc. You’re no good at standup comedy.”

Doc
. Too easily, Seth snuck back into her mind.

She stared hard at the blank pad she’d put in her lap until his image was once more pushed behind the barrier that separated her personal life from her professional.

“Hypnosis,” she continued calmly, “can be a very useful tool in recovering dissociated and repressed memories. But it’s nothing that can be forced on you, Jason. Not by me or anyone else. You have to be willing to participate. To try.”