I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville) (20 page)

“That isn’t a happy expression,” Gail said.

“Guy I know from a running group wants to talk to me.”

“Think he’s the one who sent the flowers? Maybe his card really meant happy one-month anniversary in the group.”

“No. He didn’t send the flowers. We both knew Deidre, but other than that we’re just acquaintances.”

“You don’t think those flowers are romantic? They were expensive. A guy really likes a girl when he’s willing to spend money on her.”

“I think sending flowers and not signing the card is creepy.” Once, Philip had left a single rose on the driver’s seat of her car. She’d always locked the car, and the flower was his way of telling her he could get to her anytime.

“You gonna text him back?”

“Of course.”

Her fingertips hesitated over the cell phone keys.

“Just say you have surgery tonight.”

Tempted. “What about tomorrow?”

“You’ll be busy then, too. It happens a few times, he’ll get the message to back off.”

“Assuming he’s the kind of guy who operates under normal boundaries.”

Gail cocked her head. “Sounds like experience talking. Your late husband wasn’t a nice guy?”

Leah sighed. “He wasn’t, but you’d never have known it when you first met him. So charming. And then it was either full-on romance or anger. Little in between.”

“Was it terrible for you?”

“For a while it was.” She shook off the fear. “But I’m not worried about that now.” Absently, Leah tugged the edges of her coat over her scars.

“I see you day in and day out. Most days you do a good job of hiding them.” Gail frowned. “Did he attack you?”

Shame warmed her face with a flush of color. As kind as Gail had been to her since she’d arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to explain her tale.

“I see the scars.”

She’d kept the past locked in a box for four years. At times, the past banged and clanged against the box’s restraints, as if it were a wild animal. But she’d always kept it contained. Now, after all that fighting, she simply lifted the lid and set it free. “He stabbed me twenty-three times.”

“My God, I remember that case. It was in the news.”

“Thankfully, the media dropped it quickly.” Color rose in Leah’s face as embarrassment flooded her. How could she have been so fooled by a monster?

“It’s okay, honey,” Gail said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’ve got a big mouth and I can put my nose into business that isn’t mine.”

“It’s fine. It’s the past. My husband died in a car accident shortly after the attack. It’s over.” She glanced down at the phone. She wasn’t going to lie to David. She texted back, I
CAN MEET FOR COFFEE IN AN HOUR
. She hit Send. “See you tomorrow, Gail.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” She dug deep for a bright smile, but she couldn’t find one. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

Leah grabbed her purse and coat from her office, and as she exited through the back door, her hand on her Mace, she paused to scan the parking lot. She approached her car carefully, glancing in the backseat.

As she put her key in the lock, she hesitated, the hair on the back of her neck rising. She turned and scanned the parking lot, searching for anyone who might be watching her. There were only Gail and Dr. Nelson’s cars in the lot, but across the street, the strip mall was filled with cars. Anyone could be sitting in a car watching the people around the shopping center. And each shop window was large, designed so that customers could gaze inside at the merchandise.

But the windows were also for the monsters who liked to hide in plain sight, day and night, watching their prey.

Chapter Fourteen

 

Leah arrived at the coffee shop just after six thirty. The café had a collection of small tables and, at the far end, a large glass counter filled with sweet and savory pastries. The air was heavy with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and chocolate.

She moved to the counter and ordered a large coffee and a cheese pizza. Within minutes she’d settled at a table near the back wall. She faced the front door, which allowed her a clear view of everyone who entered. Back to the wall, she faced the door and counted the exits. Maybe one day she wouldn’t think so strategically when she entered a store or restaurant, but she doubted that day would come anytime soon.

She bit into her pizza and savored the taste of melted Swiss cheese and the blend of oregano and basil on the warm crust. She hadn’t eaten out in a long time. Too many people watching, too exposed. But tonight she didn’t want to worry. She wanted to enjoy her life, and maybe she’d add having fun to her growing list of resolutions.

Bells over the front door jingled and a cold blast of air elbowed its way into the room. Her gaze lifted, careful and wary, until she spotted a couple entering the coffee shop arm in arm, smiling. She noted the woman’s relaxed posture and the way she slung her arm casually over the man’s. He smiled down at her, and they laughed at a private joke. Envy jabbed at Leah. She doubted she’d ever enjoyed that kind of trust or joy, even in the early days with Philip.

On the heels of the couple, a final blast of cold air shoved David inside. The collar of his overcoat was turned up, and his thick hair had been tossed by the wind. Briefcase in hand, he looked every bit the professional. She’d never seen him dressed for work before, and though he’d always looked sharp working out, now he was distinguished. She waited for the flutter of attraction that would have been a normal response but none came.

He raised a gloved hand, smiled, and moved straight to the counter to place an order.

Coffee cup in hand, he moved toward her. She rose and smiled.

He set his cup down and reached over to hug her. The move was easy, relaxed, meant to be a gesture of friendship. She ordered her muscles to relax and gave him a quick hug, patting his back softly while keeping distance between their bodies. His faint cologne teased her nose. “David. How’re you doing?”

Straightening, he pulled off his coat and slung it over a spare chair before sitting. “I’m rattled as hell. How’re you doing? I can’t stop thinking about Deidre.”

“I’m still stunned,” Leah said.

“Me too. She was awesome. I really liked her.” He reached for two packets of sugar and dumped them in his coffee. “The cop said you found her.”

Images of Deidre, dead, upended her calm. “I did.”

He sipped his coffee, staring at her as if waiting for her to share details of the crime scene. She hadn’t told anyone at the clinic about the murder, and now to discuss it with David smacked of dishonor.

Understanding her hesitation but not ready to surrender, he hurried on to say, “It’s just so terrible. The cop came to see me. He had all kinds of questions. It almost felt like I was some kind of suspect.”

She reached for a piece of her pizza but realized her appetite had vanished. Many shared David’s morbid curiosity. She supposed that didn’t make him evil, just human. However, fear whispered,
Smiles and nice clothes don’t mean he’s good either.

As if it were an annoying fly, she brushed fear aside. “What kind of questions did they ask?”

“Basically, if I knew of anyone who might have been bothering her. Did I see anything or notice anyone who set off alarm bells?”

What secrets hid behind his beautiful mask of concern? Deidre had said he once joked he was a man of secrets. “Did you?”

He tapped his index finger against his coffee cup. “No. I never saw anything. She never spoke about her ex-husband, but I’m wondering now if he could have been behind this.”

“Deidre didn’t talk to me about her personal life. If I hadn’t seen you two at Rudy’s on Saturday night, I’d have never known you were dating.”

“I wouldn’t say we were dating. Friends. With benefits. But no romance. Just laughs.” He sipped his coffee. “Have you heard when the funeral is going to be?”

“No.” She hadn’t attended Philip’s funeral, but months after the attack, when she’d regained some of her strength, she’d visited his grave. Fresh flowers had adorned the site, and she guessed that had been his grandmother’s doing. Myrna had adored her grandson. Leah had knelt in front of the stone for a long time, tracing her fingers over the raised letters of his name. She’d barely glanced at the year of his birth, but she’d stared at the date of his death for a long time. She’d thanked God he was dead. “I’ll be there.”

“Me too.”

She traced the rim of her cup. “That last morning you two ran. You ran extra miles that day.”

“She wanted to grind out five more miles and I was game. Not many people can keep pace with me, but she could. She challenged me.”

“Not every man likes to be challenged.”

“I liked it.”

A half smile tipped her lips as she weighed his words against his tone. “She was a great athlete.” She lifted her cup to her lips and paused. “You didn’t see anyone at the park that day?”

He sipped his coffee, sat back, and appraised her with a wary eye. “You sound like a cop.”

“Sorry. Most women who’re murdered are killed by someone they know.” During Philip’s stalking, she’d had a therapist suggest her husband could kill her. She’d dismissed the idea as preposterous. Her therapist had leaned forward in his chair, looked her in the eye, and said, “Seventy percent of the time, women are killed by someone who
loved
them.”

But David had said he didn’t love Deidre.
Friends with benefits.

“I’ve called my lawyer,” he said.

“Why?”

“I didn’t hurt her. I can’t help the cops. But I only trust the system so far. Things get twisted. Evidence gets messed up or misinterpreted. It never hurts to have an attorney.”

Until now, her opinion of David had rested on his looks and athletic talent. Now, she decided, she didn’t like him very much. He wasn’t worried about Deidre. Only himself.

She checked her watch. “David, I really have to get going. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, sure. But you haven’t eaten.”

She pushed her plate away, her stomach knotting. “I’m not hungry.”

“Can I have it? God, I’m starved.”

“Yeah, sure. Help yourself.” She rose and pulled her coat off the back of her chair. He moved to stand, but she stopped him. “It’s okay. See you soon.”

She left him eating her pizza. Bells jingled overhead as she tugged open the door. An icy brace of air stung her face. As she zipped up her coat, she glanced back into the coffee shop. David, smiling now, had his head bowed as he typed into his cell phone.
Deidre, what did you see in that guy?

She burrowed her hands into her coat pockets and moved down the street toward her car. As she walked along the cold, nearly deserted streets, her senses tingled, as if someone was watching her. The feeling grew so acute, she stopped and looked back, half-expecting to see someone there. But the street was empty. No sound of footsteps. No lingering shadows.

A chill rushed up her spine as she hurried to her car. She glanced in the darkened backseat and, satisfied it was empty, unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. Immediately, she locked the doors. The drive home took less than fifteen minutes, and she was grateful to pull the door to her town home behind her and lock it. She reached for the dead bolt, clicked it open and then clicked it closed again. Three times. Locked. Safe.

Shrugging off her coat, she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and changed into sweats and a T-shirt. She scrubbed her face clean of makeup. Without makeup, under the soft glow of the bathroom lights, her scars brightened. Gently, she traced the jagged line across her chin.

Next, she allowed her gaze to drop to the scars she so often ignored. Carefully, she fingered the slash above her left breast and the short, jagged scar along her collarbone. The scars, like memories of her marriage, had faded but were not forgotten. And as hard as she worked to deny them, in the end they were always lurking, waiting to be unmasked.

When she turned from the mirror, she wasn’t upset or troubled by her scars. Like DNA, the scars were an undeniable part of her. A readiness to move forward washed over her. Time to abandon the past’s lonely road. Life brought enough darkness without her stirring up what had passed.

She dressed in pajamas and moved into the living room. There, she flipped through the day’s mail, which was mostly bills. The last envelope was light purple and hand-addressed, clearly personal. She turned over the envelope and saw her aunt’s return address. They spoke from time to time. Her aunt had slipped into the spot her mother had once filled. But the handwriting didn’t quite match her aunt’s.

Carefully, she tore open the end of the envelope and removed the card. On the cover was an adorable black Lab. Touched that her aunt remembered her love of Labs, she flipped open the card. It read, “Thinking of you.”

She turned the card over to see if there were any other notes, but the rest of the card was blank. She checked her watch and realized it was early in Oregon so she dialed her aunt’s number.

She answered on the third ring. Her voice sounded rough and heavy, as if she suffered from a cold. “Hello.”

“Aunt Jane, it’s Leah.”

“Leah? This is out of the blue. Is everything all right?” In the background, a television hummed with the sounds of a game show.

“Everything is fine. The job is going well and I seem to be settling into the new town house.”

“Something must be wrong.” Her tone had grown stern.

Leah deserved her aunt’s skepticism. She’d called too many times, terrified and scared, in moments when she’d imagined Philip lurking in the back booth of a café or hovering at the edge of an alley. The shrink had said it was PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. He’d given her tranquilizers, which she’d never taken. “No, it’s all good. I got your card and wanted to thank you for sending it. I love the Lab puppy on the front.”

A silence followed. “Leah, I didn’t send you a card.”

“The card has your home address on it.”

“Leah, I didn’t send it.”

Her smile flattened to a frown. “Are you sure?”

“Honey, I know when I’ve sent out a card. You said there’s a Lab puppy on the front. What does it say on the inside?”

A tension crept up her back and circled around her throat, constricting her breath. “It says
Thinking of You
.”

“Is it signed?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s an old card, maybe one that got lost in the mail? I could have sent it last year.”

She picked up the envelope and rechecked the return address. The handwriting was bold and masculine. “It’s your new address. The house on Mulberry, so it can’t be more than a couple of months ago.”

“It didn’t come from me, honey.” Her aunt spoke carefully, as if fearing Leah would panic.

“Any relatives staying with you who might have sent it?” Leah stared at the card, all traces of goodwill fleeing as she struggled to find logic.

“No, hon. I just got back from my cruise, so no one has stayed with me in a while.”

The chill skimming along her skin grew colder. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Her aunt paused. “But Philip is dead.”

“Yes. Of course.” Her voice didn’t hold the conviction it should have.

“What about the local police? Have you called them?”

Several times in Knoxville, she’d imagined sounds and called the cops. They’d never found signs of any intruder. “A neighbor called them a month ago. I was having one of my nightmares, and they heard my screams. I’ve made a New Year’s resolution not to stress about sounds and noises.” She wanted to tell her aunt about Deidre, but that remained too painful.

“My word, I think the earth just stopped spinning.”

Her aunt’s dry tone coaxed a half laugh. “There’s life on the other side.”

“Yes, there is. And it’s good to hear you laugh, Leah. I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

Leah traced the edges of the pup’s face on the card. “Aunt Jane, I’m not going to worry about this card. It’s some kind of odd mistake.”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t worry, honey. I know, given your history, it’s natural to be worried and upset. But my guess is that the card is some kind of advertisement or mistake.”

Logic refused to listen to fear’s rants. “The envelope has your address and mine. Whoever sent this knows where we both live.” She glanced toward the front door and resisted the urge to test the lock. “Yesterday someone sent me flowers at work. They were addressed to me, and the card said
Happy Anniversary
.”

“Your wedding anniversary is a few days away. Could they’ve been for some other kind of celebration?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Leah, have you seen anyone around your town house?”

“No.”

“Has anyone been bothering you?”

“No.”

“What about odd phone calls?”

“Those are all the kind of things Philip did.”

“I know.” It wasn’t any one event but the
drip, drip, drip
of all those little things that coalesced into a flood.

“Did you call that South Carolina detective?”

“I left a voice mail. She hasn’t called me back yet. She probably thinks I’m back in crazy town.”

“You were never crazy. Never forget what happened was all Philip’s doing. How many days has it been since you called?”

“A few.”

“Why don’t you call her again tomorrow? Be polite and ask her about Philip. Just double-check. It will make you feel better. Do you think it could be Philip’s grandmother? She always took his side.”