Deadly Seduction by Cate Noble Page A

went directly to the leather chair behind the desk.
    “Erin. Good. I know this is short notice.” He set his briefcase on the desk’s smooth surface and looked at her. “I’m leaving for Springfield this afternoon and I may be tied up for several days. Colby Deets is at the Toronto conference, so—” Winchette broke off as his cell phone began to buzz. “Excuse me. I’m waiting on a call.”
    Erin sat forward while Winchette checked his phone. That he was going to ask her to cover for him was totally unexpected. Was it also an olive branch?
    She hadn’t anticipated getting a second chance so soon, not after her alleged screwup of a case several months ago. Winchette had practically accused her of sexual misconduct when a patient of his insisted he’d work only with Erin after she filled in during one of Winchette’s absences.
    Just because Winchette later retracted his harsh words hadn’t meant all was rosy. In fact, Winchette had only recently allowed her back on his team. But only after making sure everyone knew it was mostly out of loyalty to Erin’s late father.
    That hadn’t been their first awkward moment , as he liked to call them. More than once Winchette had virtually ridiculed Erin’s interest in clinical hypnosis. Or at least he had until she’d won a lucrative research grant for a study of alternative treatments for post-traumatic shock disorder.
    And even though a friend of Winchette’s, a veteran allergic to most antianxiety medications, had been cured of several crippling phobias with Erin’s help—Winchette still referred to her work as “woo-woo.”
    “That wasn’t the call I’m waiting for,” Winchette said. “Now where were we?”
    “I’d be happy to fill in while you’re gone,” she said.
    Winchette cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. Colby Deets is already headed back. However, his flight has been delayed until tonight. Since I’m pressed for time, I thought you could ride with me to the airport and take a few notes.”
    Mortified by her presumptiveness, Erin felt she had little choice but to nod. And since Winchette knew she didn’t work Wednesday afternoons, any excuses she made up now would ring false.
    Pulling off his glasses, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Erin. I just realized I haven’t even asked how you’re feeling.” He pointed to his phone. “I’ve been dealing with village idiots all day, which is no excuse.”
    “You’re busy. And I’m fine.”
    “You don’t look fine.” Replacing his glasses, he peered at her. “Trouble sleeping again? Perhaps you should go back to Dr. Shelton, do a little follow-up.”
    Dr. Shelton was a private practice therapist who specialized in grief counseling. Erin had been so shocked by the news of her father’s death and the subsequent assertions of suicide that she’d taken Winchette up on his recommendation to see Dr. Shelton.
    And it had helped her to work through the initial stages of guilt and doubt. Guilt over not recognizing her father’s alleged depression symptoms followed by the uncertainty of wondering if there was truth to the vague whispers that her father had leaked secret information. While initially Winchette had privately defended her father, the cloud of suspicion hadn’t ever gone away.
    “I appreciate your concern,” she said. Liar, liar.
    “Your father worked in the psychotherapy field,” Winchette had told her at the memorial service. “Who would know better than him how to hide the symptoms? Especially from his only child and closest friends.”
    That hadn’t been the first time Winchette had quoted, practically verbatim, some of Dr. Shelton’s words. She’d quit seeing Shelton after suspecting he had been feeding Winchette reports the whole time. Toward the end, Shelton had seemed intent on discovering what Erin knew of her father’s work. Which at that time had been nothing. Not that she knew much more at this point.
    But now that she suspected foul play, she