Read One Night in Weaver... for Free Online Page B

over that. She yanked the pins out of her hair, raked her fingers through it and checked her reflection again.
    “You look manic,” she told herself and reached for the brush to smooth out her messy hair.
    “Hayley, dear.” Her grandmother opened the door, an imperious look in her eye. “Your phone is out here ringing. Shall I answer it for you?”
    Hayley tossed the brush on the bed. “I’ll get it, Vivian.” Addressing her grandmother by her given name was something that made them both more comfortable. Hayley because she’d never met the woman until six months ago. And Vivian because she wasn’t fond of being reminded that she was old enough to have several grown grandchildren. Which made little sense, because she’d come to Wyoming to end the estrangement with her family.
    “Men like women in dresses, dear.” Vivian followed Hayley into the living room. “Once you catch them,
then
wear a suit.” The older woman patted the nubby silk one that she herself was wearing. “But until then—” she waved her hand expressively “—wear a dress. Allows them to think they’re in charge or something. Men need their delusions.”
    “I think I’ll be fine,” Hayley said confidently, despite her own dithering over her clothing, and snatched up her ringing cell phone from the table by the front door. She quickly answered when she saw the number displayed. “This is Dr. Templeton.”
    “Sorry to bother you at home, ma’am. But you did say to call if he showed any change.”
    She easily recognized the caller’s voice. Which meant the “he” in question was her newest patient, Jason McGregor. “That’s all right, Adam. And I did say to call anytime. What’s happening? Is he asking for me?” It would be a first. Ever since Tristan Clay requested she take on the case, Jason McGregor had steadfastly refused to interact with her in any meaningful way. That hadn’t stopped her from spending several hours each day with him for the past week and a half, however.
    “No, ma’am. But he’s tearing up his room, so I figured I’d better call.”
    “He hasn’t hurt himself, has he?” Jason’s room at the safe house had more amenities than Tristan Clay had initially wanted to provide. She knew her patient was a prisoner. That his quarters were a cell disguised as a modestly comfortable room being monitored every single minute of every single day. It was no different than the military prison where he’d been before Tristan had him transferred into his custody.
    And although she might not know the finer ins and outs of what all Tristan and his highly confidential Hollins-Winword actually did—she preferred not to know, actually—she did know that her patient was suspected of having killed his two partners. Tristan was trusting her to either help the man work through his memory loss surrounding the incident, or debunk his condition altogether.
    Everyone around Jason seemed to believe he was dangerous. Hayley was still withholding judgment on that. She simply didn’t know enough about the man yet.
    “He’s trying to bang up the place pretty good, but he’s not showing any signs of injury,” Adam answered.
    At least that was something. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she promised and disconnected the call. “A patient,” she told her grandmother, who was still standing right beside her.
    “Oh, Hayley. What about your
date
?”
    To hear Vivian’s tone, canceling was akin to dissing the Queen of England. Hayley scrolled through her cell phone history until she found Seth’s number. “The date’s just going to have to wait,” she said as she headed back into the privacy of her bedroom.
    Her call was answered after only a few rings. “It’s Hayley.”
    “Chicken out already?” His voice was deep.
    “I’m not chickening out.” She tucked the thin phone against her shoulder and yanked her hair back into its customary ponytail. “I have a patient emergency.”
    “Yeah. That’s what they all