Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK Page B

He’d responded favorably to her in their sessions, and she’d thought she was making progress with him—until it had all blown up in her face. One of the hospital aides had found Wrigley hanging in the shower—in time to cut him down and save his life, as it turned out.
    But it had been a daunting introduction to clinical practice for Morgan, even though the hospital’s chief psychiatrist assured her that the suicide attempt wasn’t her fault. At the time, she knew that George Mason University was looking for an associate professor of psychology, and she’d applied for the job. With her outstanding academic record, she’d beaten out a whole slew of other candidates. She’d stayed at the school and worked her way up in the department to full professor.
    Now she looked over at Jack Brandt. He’d just cold-bloodedly killed a man. Not in the heat of battle but with a cunningly conceived and executed plan. Did that mean she was in the clutches of a psychopath? Or sociopath? Or someone with an antisocial personality? Whatever you wanted to call it.
    She’d taught an abnormal psychology course, and she was familiar with the type, at least in theory. Grimly she began ticking off the characteristics in her head.
    Psychopaths came across as charming. They had a grandiose sense of self-worth. They were cunning and manipulative and good liars. They were emotionally shallow and lacked remorse or guilt. They failed to accept responsibility for their actions, had poor behavior control, lacked realistic long-term goals, were impulsive and irresponsible, as well as criminally versatile.
    Going down the list of traits occupied her mind for a while, and when she was finished, she was feeling better about the grim-faced Navy SEAL walking beside her. Much as she hated what he’d done when he’d deliberately dropped that tree limb on the man, he wasn’t following a classic psychopathic pattern.
    He hadn’t tried to manipulate her. He’d seemed genuinely remorseful after the episode where he’d thrown her against the wall in the tunnel. And he hadn’t come across as impulsive or irresponsible.
    He was trying to save his own life. And hers. And much as she hated some of his methods, she believed they might be due to his SEAL training, unless he was lying about that and everything else.
    What’s more, now that she had time to consider his decision to drop the tree branch on the man, she couldn’t fault his logic. If the attacker could have told Trainer that they’d escaped into the woods, then the men who’d watched the house burn would already be in hot pursuit.
    Would Glenn have had the guts to do the same thing?
    The question brought her up short. Why was she thinking about her deceased husband now ? He had no place in this scenario. He never would have gotten her into this kind of trouble. He’d had a safe job. A safe life, and he’d liked it that way. They both had, until fate had stepped in and changed everything.
    Too bad she hadn’t played it safe yesterday. She’d gotten herself into trouble by bringing Jack inside. But she knew there was no way she would have done anything differently if she’d gotten the chance. Regardless of the consequences, she would have taken Jack Brandt in.
    ***
    The fire had died down, and the rain helped turn the charred dwelling into a sopping mess of smoke stink and burned household items. Wade Trainer took a step closer and dragged in a breath of the tainted air, trying and failing to detect the odor of charred human flesh. But it had been pretty hot in there. Maybe Barnes and his lady friend had been reduced to ash.
    On the other hand, the flames had never been as hot as a crematorium furnace. Perhaps it was possible to find some charred bones as evidence. In fact, he’d feel a lot better if he could find proof that Barnes and Morgan Rains were dead.
    Wade had assumed that Barnes and the woman would