their place. “I don’t expect to have any free time until next Sunday at the earliest.”
“Guess it will be back to the microwave for me. When I die from malnourishment, drop a flower on my grave.”
She laughed softly. “I’ll do that. Good night, Seth.”
“Good night, Doc.”
Still smiling, she slid her phone into the side pocket of her briefcase, which usually doubled as her purse, too, and went back out to the living room.
“All work and no play isn’t going to keep you warm at night, dear,” her grandmother cautioned.
Even though Hayley felt certain that Vivian hadn’t left the house all day except for the morning walk she usually took, her grandmother was still dressed in a Chanel suit with jewels sparkling at her ears and throat. In six months, Hayley had never seen her grandmother dress differently. She seemed to have an endless array of designer clothing and priceless jewelry. Undoubtedly the benefit of having been married once upon a time to a steel magnate. “That’s why I have an electric blanket,” Hayley assured her grandmother. “Don’t wait up. I might be late.”
“I wish it were for a different reason.” Vivian’s acerbic voice followed her out the door.
“Me, too,” Hayley murmured as she hurried to her car. “Me, too.”
* * *
Ten minutes away in the observation room that overlooked McGregor’s cell, Seth slid his cell phone into his pocket. Beyond the monitors and the bulletproof glass, the disgraced agent had finally stopped throwing his furniture around and now stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring down at his feet. They were bare below the pale blue medical scrubs that he wore. When it came to acting, the guy was doing a good job of looking as if he was losing his marbles.
Not that his behavior changed Seth’s mind at all about McGregor’s involvement in his partners’ deaths.
He glanced at the young man sitting in front of the monitors. “Thanks for keeping me in the loop, Adam.” Strictly speaking, Seth had no official need-to-know where the safe house’s “guest” was concerned. But Seth had helped Adam get into Hollins-Winword a while back and loyalty stuck. “Does Dr. Templeton ever check the log?”
Adam shook his head. “I tried showing it to her because Mr. Clay said she was in charge of everything with McGregor except security, but she didn’t want to see it. Says her only interest is in her patient. Not the comings and goings of his keepers, since we never interact with the guy.”
The only people who did interact with McGregor, according to Adam, were Hayley and, even less frequently, Tristan. Tristan’s meetings with McGregor were recorded. Audio and video.
Hayley’s, however, were not. She’d evidently dismissed the warnings that being observed during her sessions was for her own safety and insisted that her patient’s privacy be honored. Her only concession had been to carry a panic button whenever she was alone with McGregor.
“Well.” Seth scrawled the exit time in the log next to his equally indecipherable signature. “Enjoy the grub.” He’d brought Adam dinner from one of the diners in town.
“Already am,” Adam said around a bite of his roast beef sandwich.
Seth left the safe house and drove his truck well out of sight before pulling to the side of the road. He’d planned to make his usual quick stop at the place to check on things and be home at his apartment in plenty of time before Hayley came. But witnessing McGregor’s temper tantrum had waylaid him. And even before he’d heard her voice on the phone, he’d known that Hayley would be canceling on him.
His conscience didn’t particularly bother him.
Just because he’d considered the possibility of gaining inside information from her about what McGregor revealed during their private sessions didn’t mean Seth was acting on it. She had limited knowledge of those involved with Hollins-Winword and there was no reason for her to know he was anything other than what she believed him to be: a lowly Cee-Vid security guard.
So he sat there off in the distance on the side of the road and waited until her car arrived. She parked in the driveway of the ordinary-looking ranch-style house situated in the middle of a half-dozen other ordinary-looking houses, got out, walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the front door. A few seconds later, the woman who lived in the house with her real-life husband opened the door as if greeting a friend, and Hayley disappeared inside.
In his mind, Seth followed her movements. Through the living room filled with ordinary furniture. Probably greeting the husband, where he’d be parked on his recliner, watching sports on television after having spent his day in the drugstore where he was the pharmacist. Through the kitchen, which was usually filled with the warm scent of something the pharmacist’s stay-at-home wife was baking, and down the stairs to the basement. Then through a steel security door as thick as Seth’s thigh and down another flight to the very depths below the house where she’d be greeted by a guard just like Adam who didn’t hide the fact that he was armed the way the couple upstairs did.
And even though Hayley had the trust of Tristan Clay, for security purposes she would still have to surrender that sleek briefcase she carried and be wanded and patted down before she’d be allowed into the heavily locked room with her patient, the panic button tucked into her pocket.
The process would take a minimum of five minutes if she didn’t stop to shoot the breeze with anyone along the way.
Seth sat there slouched in his truck seat watching the house. Porch lights came on up and down the street as darkness fell and his butt turned numb.
And finally, a little more than three hours later, the front door of the safe house opened again and Hayley appeared on the porch. Accompanied by the lady of the house, she stood there for a moment, smiling and holding a foil-wrapped package in her hand, before returning to her car with a casual wave of her hand.
She definitely had the routine down. Anyone taking the time to watch would have seen only one friend stopping to visit another.
Exhaling, and not particularly anxious to examine the reasons why he was relieved she was out of there, Seth straightened in his seat, started up his ancient truck and drove home to the microwave in his apartment.
* * *
“You’ve got a visitor.”
Hayley looked up from her case notes to see her office manager, Gretchen, standing in the doorway. “Who?”
Gretchen grinned and her eyebrows practically wiggled. “A man.”
“Nearly half my practice is made up of men,” Hayley replied. But she closed the file folder, slid it into her desk drawer and stood up. She had an hour before her next appointment, which Gretchen—who did her office scheduling—knew very well. So Hayley walked with her to the outer reception area.
The sight of Seth standing there made her breath catch in her chest. She was vaguely aware of Gretchen retreating to her desk behind the reception counter. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He was dressed in another black work T-shirt and blue jeans. Common clothes, yet the man wearing them didn’t seem common at all.
“Even I get a lunch break.” He held up a large brown paper bag. “Think the doctor does, too.”
