I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville) (23 page)

“I want to test the DNA. I’m not convinced it’s Latimer in the grave.”

Panic gripped her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Had she been fooling herself for the last four years? Had he been there all along, watching from the shadows?

“You’re his legal wife.” His rough tone grated against the words. “You can give me permission.”

Tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “I’m
not
his wife.”

“Legally, you are.”

“He
is
dead.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I could get a court order, but that would take time we don’t have. Your anniversary is approaching.”

She raised trembling fingers to her forehead. “Do you think he’s alive?”

“I don’t know. But I know Deidre and Philip worked together. I know he helped her lose evidence in a case involving her sister. Weeks ago she started skimming money. And she was stabbed to death.”

“Oh, God. Why kill her?”

“She knew him. Might have helped him escape. Maybe, after all this time, she decided to turn him in to the cops and clear her conscience.”

All Deidre’s smiles and nice words flashed. Was it all false? Could Deidre have been using her? God, this was her worst nightmare. “I don’t want to open Philip’s grave. I want this nightmare to go away.”

His tone warmed, softened. “Pretending and hoping doesn’t fix anything.”

She glared at him but heard the truth. Before, she’d prayed he’d stop, but of course he never had considered ending his cruel campaign. Hiding wouldn’t stop someone like Philip, who fed on fear. “I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign.”

“Good.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. “Sign this and I’ll submit it to the judge.”

She took the paper from him and dug a pen from her jacket pocket. Without reading it, she scrawled her name, Leah Carson, the tip of her pen digging deeper into the paper on the last few letters.

He accepted the paper and studied the signature. “Did you change your name back to Carson legally?”

“I did. But of course I had his death certificate. Do you want me to write Latimer?”

He frowned and folded the paper, creasing the edges to sharp points with his fingertips. “No. This should do.”

“I pray you’re wrong.”

“So do I.”

She reached for the door handle, anxious to be within the safety of the clinic walls. “Did you know about Deidre’s connection to Philip when you asked me out?”

“I knew Deidre was skimming money. I was investigating her. And I knew you were her new best friend. I suspected something but didn’t know for sure.”

“I thought you just came to check on Tracker.”

“My brother Rick agreed to board Tracker here for a few days so I had a reason to meet you.”

“I see.” She rubbed the scar on her palm. She had to give Alex points for honesty, even if the words cut. “Rick said he hated the idea of boarding the dog.”

“He only did it because I asked him to.”

As much as she hated truth’s bite, she preferred it to Philip’s lies. Deidre’s lies.

“This bothers you.”

“Hurts a little to learn this was part of your job. Took a lot for me to agree to a date.”

“I like you. Admire you. That’s the truth.”

“Truth? Excuse me if I’m skeptical. My people-reading skills are the worst.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Just didn’t tell me the whole truth.”

“When I asked you about the scars, you said it was an accident.”

“My past is no one’s business.”

“And neither are the details of my job. Keeping secrets is a necessity.”

Her hand rested on the door handle. “You’re right about that.” She yanked open the door, disappointment chasing her, as she vanished inside, letting the door slam hard on Alex.

Inside, she leaned against the cold metal door, tense and waiting. She half-expected Alex to bang on the door or circle around and enter through the clinic’s front door to say something else to her. He didn’t knock or call her name, and that fostered an odd and very troubling sense of loss.

He was a man who liked to win. And she was a piece on the chessboard. Stupid to get attached.

Inside the clinic, a phone rang and a dog barked, but she stayed close to the door until she heard what she thought was the crunch of his footsteps against the gravel. Her breath burning in her chest, she waited longer and then, finally, when she heard the engine, exhaled slowly and carefully.

She wanted Deidre’s killer to be found. She wanted the questions about Philip silenced and, God help her, she’d wanted a relationship with Alex.

Life had taught her that wanting didn’t always coincide with receiving.

Chapter Sixteen

 

Disappointed with himself, Alex closed the car door and jammed his keys into the ignition. That wasn’t the way he’d envisioned this conversation with Leah. He’d known his theories would upset her, but he’d hoped they’d find a way to work together. And he found the pain etched in her features troubling.

Damn.
He started the car. He hadn’t spun this damn web of lies. That had been Deidre and, perhaps, Philip’s doing. His job was to untangle it all.

Alex gripped the wheel. If his theories were correct, he needed to stay on point to protect Leah. Philip Latimer had attacked her, and if he were alive, he would do so again, of that Alex was certain.

God knows, Leah had no reason to trust him, but he wanted her trust. He was on her side. And when he picked a side, like it or not, he was all in.

Leah didn’t realize that. She considered talk cheap. Words carried little weight with her. One way or another, he would show her that he was on her side.

He drove to the Nashville Police Department to meet with Georgia and Deke. The three were to discuss the findings from Deidre’s crime scene.

He found Georgia in her lab, her red hair twisted into a topknot as she leaned over a black cotton shirt laid out on a light table. She peered through a magnifying lens suspended over the table with an adjustable arm. With a pair of tweezers, she plucked a hair sample from the shirt’s collar and carefully placed it in an evidence bag.

“Is this a bad time?” Alex asked.

Georgia glanced up and smiled. “No. Your timing is perfect, as always. I was just wrapping up with this piece.” She carefully refolded the shirt and placed it back in a large evidence bag.

“What’s that from?”

“A homicide on the East Side. Looks like a drug buy gone bad. This shirt is from the shooter.”

When it came to everyday life, his sister could be scattered, but when it came to work, her focus was laser sharp. “Got time to talk about Deidre’s crime scene?”

She pulled off rubber gloves. “I do. We worked that crime scene for two full days, dusting and collecting in the kitchen as well as the entire house.”

“So give me what you have.” He hitched his hip on the corner of a metal desk.

“As the blood splatter suggested, it all went down in the kitchen.” She reviewed the details of the killing.

“So this guy must have been covered in blood.”

“Yes. There were bloody footsteps that led to the back door and down the three back porch stairs, but they ended at the grass. Like I said at the crime scene, I’m guessing he was wearing some kind of protective gear.”

“This wasn’t a random attack.”

“Not in my professional opinion. No other signs of blood or disturbance anywhere else in the area. Though I did find traces of hair on her body, which I’ve sent off for DNA testing. I can’t imagine our killer would go to so much trouble to hide trace evidence and then drop hair, but you never know. I also found semen on her bedsheets that were less than twenty-four hours old. Again, testing for DNA.”

“The medical examiner’s final report said she had consensual sex within twenty-four hours of dying.”

“Fits.”

“When will you have the DNA?”

Her cheeks puffed and she blew out a breath. “Couple of weeks, and that’s putting a rush on the tests. Then we’ve got to run it through the databases and see if there’s a match.”

“Can you test the DNA against one particular individual?”

“The boyfriend or husband?”

“Both. And I’d also like it tested against a guy by the name of Philip Latimer. He was a cop in Nashville who worked with Deidre.”

“Where’d you come up with that name?”

“He was Leah Carson’s husband.” Though they might be legally married, he considered Latimer an ex-husband in every sense of the word when it came to Leah.

Georgia raised an index finger. “I remember that case. He nearly killed his wife. Stabbed her. Many were shocked because he was a decorated officer.”

Alex nodded. “Latimer stabbed Leah twenty-three times.”

“Like Deidre.”

“So it would appear.”

Absently, she tugged on a loose strand of hair. “I thought he was dead.”

“Supposedly, he died four years ago. And he might very well be dead. I could be wrong.”

That coaxed a smile. “I should get that on tape.”

He stared at her.

“Brother, you’re not wrong. You figure stuff the rest of us don’t.”

“DNA will move this theory to fact.”

“I’ll see what can be rushed.” She glanced at her case file. “I also found a footprint by the back door in the grass. He must have stopped to remove his protective suit and booties. Shifting weight to one leg left the imprint.”

“What kind of shoe?”

“A sports shoe. Judging by the tread, a cross trainer. Men’s size thirteen.”

“A big guy.” Like Philip. But also like Tyler and David.

Deke entered the room, his face darkened by a scowl.

“Georgia was just getting me up to speed on the evidence in Deidre’s case,” Alex said.

“Have you heard our brother’s crazy theory?” Georgia asked.

Deke sighed. “Which one?”

Georgia gave him the rundown.

Deke shook his head, but he didn’t laugh off the explanation. “Deidre’s connection to Philip would explain the missing money. Back from the dead, he no doubt needed money, and what better source than Deidre. Might also explain Deidre’s old business card, which we found near the John Doe.”

Alex held up a hand. “Let Georgia run her DNA, then we’ll get into how crazy this sounds. Leah has also signed a consent form so I can open Latimer’s grave.”

“That’s going to take time.”

“I know. But I filed the papers.”

“Fair enough.” He opened the manila folder in his hand.

“I just received Deidre’s cell and home phone information. It came in late last night, and instead of sending it over, I decided to just go through it.”

Alex struggled with a jab of annoyance. Big brother taking command again. It had been an argument they’d had before, but now wasn’t the time to revive it. “And what did you find?”

“Deidre’s burner phone received a dozen calls from three different numbers that lasted anywhere from three to five minutes. The calls started about six weeks ago. All from burners.”

“Three different people?”

“Maybe. Maybe it was one person who didn’t want to be traced.”

“Like a dead guy.”

“That would fit.”

The skin on the back of Alex’s neck tingled. DNA or no, he was right about Latimer. “What about her official cell phone? Any calls on that show up as unusual?”

“An interesting calling pattern there as well. Over the last months, she received two dozen calls from pay phones. All at random times. No patterns. None of the calls lasted more than a few seconds.”

“Someone was harassing her or keeping tabs on her?”

“One or the other. The calls stopped abruptly about four weeks ago.”

“What about Radcliff’s number? I caught him harassing Leah Carson today. Stands to reason he’d be harassing a soon-to-be ex-wife. Did his number show up on her records?”

“Several times, but all the calls were made during normal business hours. Any attorney could argue they were reasonable.”

“Radcliff’s smart enough not to leave an electronic trail. He’s got that reelection campaign this year, and he doesn’t want to screw it up with stalking charges.”

Deke closed his file, his scowl darkening. “Why the hell would Radcliff go after Leah?”

“Leah knew Deidre from the running group, and the two had a budding friendship. Radcliff thinks Leah knows more about Deidre’s personal life than she’s letting on.”

“Does she?”

“I think she’s told us what she knows about her.”

Georgia folded her arms over her chest. “I hear a
but
in there.”

Alex rose, shifting his stance. “No but. She’s open about Deidre. It’s her own past she guards closely.”

“Do you blame her?” Georgia challenged. “She was married to a monster. She’s likely carrying some guilt and shame.”

“Why?”

Georgia flicked a loose strand of hair from her eyes as if it were an annoying bug. “How long were they married?”

“Not very long.”

“My guess is that Latimer didn’t go postal on her all at once. I bet he slowly turned up the heat and she kept taking it. She’s ashamed she kept taking it. I know I would be.”

Deke nodded. “I saw the scars on her hands.”

Georgia drummed her fingers against her arms. “She was stabbed, and then she finds a friend stabbed. God, she must be freaking out at the idea that Latimer is still alive.”

“She was spooked.” Alex rarely second-guessed himself, but he again wondered if he should have dumped such explosive theories in her lap and simply left.

“My attacker was killed two years ago,” Georgia said. “I still have nightmares, and I sure don’t like to talk about it. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling.”

Deke seared his sister with his gaze. “You’re sharing all your worries with your therapist, right?”

Georgia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like her.”

Alex faced his sister. “I don’t like a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t do them. You still seeing her?”

A sigh leaked through clenched teeth. “Yes. I see her. I just don’t like it.”

Deke studied her a beat longer, clearly determining if he should believe her. “So, when are you going to share with us?”

She laughed. “Never.”

Alex twisted his gold cuff link. “Why not?”

“You two aren’t the warm and fuzzy types.”

“Would you tell Rachel?” Deke asked. Rachel had lived the nightmare with Georgia, nearly died with her, and, in the end, saved her.

Georgia shrugged. “She and I talk.”

Deke’s gaze softened. “I didn’t know that.”

“Exactly. By the way, I think she wants to marry you. She’s scared of giving up her independence, but if you ask again, I bet she says yes.”

Deke’s gaze sharpened. “How do you know?”

She shot him a look.

“Right. Thanks.”

“Anytime. But don’t screw this one up, Deke. I like Rachel.”

Deke grunted. “So do I.”

Georgia snapped her fingers, as if suddenly remembering. “That John Doe who was shot and burned. Ballistics just came back. The bullet that killed him was fired from the nine-millimeter Beretta you found at the scene.”

Alex rubbed a thumb and index finger together as he thought. “Left the murder weapon at the site. Why?”

Georgia shrugged. “That’s your gig, bro.”

Deke looked at Alex. “I’m calling the lab and doing some leaning regarding the DNA on that victim as well.”

“Lean away, brother,” Alex said.

“Show them who’s boss, bro,” Georgia coaxed.

“Smart-ass.” Clutching his file, Deke left.

Georgia leveled her gaze on Alex. “I thought you kinda liked Leah.”

Alex studied his sister, unwilling to admit to any feelings. “What makes you say that?”

“I know you well enough. You wouldn’t have asked her out just for a case.”

He didn’t answer.

She shook her head. “Alex, I’ve no doubt you can lock away the emotions and do your job, but you need to be careful. One day you’re going to look for the key to those emotions and you won’t be able to find it.”

 

 

Thoughts of Philip stalked Leah all afternoon as she finished her afternoon appointments by five. She moved to the front desk, where a large tabby cat named Felix lounged. He was Dr. Nelson’s cat and visited from time to time.

Leah scratched Felix between the ears and handed the last chart to Gail as an elderly couple with a fifteen-year-old terrier left through the back door. Glancing out the window, she searched the lot for any signs of a car that didn’t belong or a person who stood a little too long in one spot. She saw nothing.

Gail accepted the chart. “How is Misty doing?”

Leah could almost hear the wheels in her head screeching and groaned as she forced her thoughts to change direction. “Surprisingly well. The Smiths are committed to giving her insulin shots each day and keeping her on a modified diet.”

“They do love that dog. I’ve been here ten years and remember when they brought her in as a puppy. They lost their son last year and I think losing Misty is just too much for them right now.”

“I can’t imagine losing a child.” She smoothed her hand to her flat belly. Philip had talked about having a baby often. Though she hadn’t had the strength to leave at first, she’d known for damn certain bringing a child into the mix would be dead wrong.

As the Smiths drove off, she spotted a black truck parked in the lot of the strip mall across the street. The windows were tinted, making it impossible for her to see inside. Had the truck she’d seen at the park have tinted windows? That was the kind of thing she should remember. Details were important when she documented her days in her journal.

Gail’s dark brows rose and she rested a hand on her full hip. “You’ve never had a pet?”

Leah pulled her gaze from the truck. “I had a black Lab as a kid. She was a great dog. She died right before I left for college.”

“That’s a long time ago. I’d think by now you’d be ready for another dog. You know Dr. Nelson would be fine with you bringing it to work.”

“I know. And maybe I will one day.” She’d avoided pets since Philip. She’d feared what he’d do to it if she had one. And now Alex thought Philip could be alive. Shit. She couldn’t dare risk loving anything now.

“A few new kittens arrived. All strays. Six or seven weeks and very cute. They’re in the kennel in the back.”

Knowing she wouldn’t take any of them, she said, “I’ll check them out.”