I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville) (6 page)

Absently, she traced the scar that ran along her collarbone. Philip had aimed for her throat, but that strike had missed when she twisted and skimmed off her collarbone. Carefully, she closed the journal and released the breath she’d been holding.

Alex stood at the edge of the park, watching Deidre’s SUV. He’d arrived an hour before the group and had run the route through the woods, as he’d done hundreds of times before, in the dark. He liked running in the dark. The peace.

Today his gaze had been drawn to Leah. She hadn’t seen his face, of that he was sure, but somehow she sensed him watching. It had rattled her, and she nearly lost her step. Her wild gaze had scanned the woods as she struggled to catch her breath. But she hadn’t given up. She fisted her gloved hands tighter, turned her sights on the path, and kept running.

Her scars weren’t from an accident. She’d been attacked, and those cuts had been defensive wounds. Normally, unless the job demanded it, he didn’t care about a person’s secrets or past. But he cared about hers. Liked her. He could dig up her skeletons, but he wouldn’t. Her secrets were for her to tell when she was ready.

He jogged up the hill to his car and slid behind the wheel. He was parked on the other side of the lot but still had a clear view of the park and Deidre’s car.

Deidre ran daily, sometimes twice, as if her own demons chased her. He understood the need to run. To burn the endless energy that rarely gave his mind a chance to rest. To melt the ice and glimpse life on the other side of detachment.

He sat in his car, the engine running, and reached for the coffee cup. A sip produced only a few cold drops. Irritated, he crushed the cup in his hand and tossed the remains on the floor of the rental car, irritated that he’d run out.

Deidre and the blond guy from the bar last night emerged from the woods, running at a good clip. Clearly, both were very fit. They ran up to her SUV and paused briefly for a few words. He leaned in and kissed her. She smiled and kissed him back before sliding behind the wheel of her car.

As she backed out of her space, she glanced over in Alex’s direction, but he turned his face and backed his car out of the parking spot.

He drove across the lot at a steady pace, glancing toward Deidre in the rearview mirror. She was staring in his direction so he ducked his head, letting the hoodie cover his face. Deidre was a good cop. And he didn’t need her realizing he’d been there.

Alex glanced toward the empty paths that snaked into the woods. So many good places to lurk and hide. But that was for another day. Not today.

Now, it was time to get more coffee, maybe a bagel. The running group would be back here tomorrow, and he’d be ready and waiting.

Chapter Five

 

Leah arrived at the Nashville Animal Hospital just after ten. The clinic didn’t have official office hours on Sundays, but boarding patients recovering from surgery had to be checked, fed, and walked. The third Sunday of the month was also the day her boss, Dr. Nelson, donated his time to the animal shelter. On these Sundays, the two doctors spent several hours spaying and neutering strays.

When she’d graduated from vet school, she’d seen the listing for a veterinarian position in Nashville. Though the job had excited her, the move back to her hometown had given her pause. This was where she’d lived with Philip. Where he’d almost killed her. She’d been anxious to put distance between herself, Philip, and their marriage, but the pay was good and this was
her
hometown, too.

When she closed and locked the front door behind her, Dr. Nelson called out, “Leah, that you?”

“It’s me, Dr. Nelson.” She paused and, before stepping away from the door, rattled the knob a couple of times to make sure it was locked. “Here to help. Does Tracker need to be walked?”

“No. Just took him out.”

“Great.” She moved to the back room, where they held the boarded animals in large, spacious enclosures. Tracker lay on a blue blanket brought from home. When she peeked in, he looked at her, yawned, and went back to sleep.

“We’ve got six cats today,” Dr. Nelson said.

She pulled off her coat as she moved through the reception area into the back. “Male or female?”

“Half and half.”

She slid on a white lab coat and met the doctor in the surgery. He stood over a large, hissing orange male tabby. The feline had a bent ear and an open wound on his right side. Dr. Nelson lifted the tabby by the scruff of the neck. The cat hissed and spit, but with practiced ease, the doctor lifted a syringe.

“That guy looks like he got into a fight.” Leah grabbed a handful of flesh behind the cat’s neck and watched as the doctor injected the sedative. Within seconds, the cat turned to dead weight.

“Judging by the scars, he’s had a rough go of it.”

She scratched the cat between the ears and smiled as his eyes closed. “We’ll get you patched right up.”

She washed her hands, donned rubber gloves, and laid out instrument trays she’d prepped the day before. The procedures promised to be quick, and if all went according to plan, they’d be done in a few hours.

The cat would be out for two hours, plenty of time to clean and stitch the wound on his side and complete his neutering.

Without thinking, she pushed up her sleeves.

Dr. Nelson adjusted the exam light above the table so he had a better view of the wound. “How’d you get that scar on your arm, Leah?”

She glanced down at the thin white scar expertly stitched by the plastic surgeon. Quickly, she lowered her sleeve and summoned the smile she always used when questions arose. During the winter, turtlenecks and long sleeves kept the questions at bay, but summer shorts and sleeveless blouses meant lots of questions and plenty of opportunities to perfect her story. “Car accident. Happened when I was in college.”

“Must have been bad.”

“Swerved to miss a dog that had gotten off his leash. Hit a tree.” The lie came tripping easily over her lips. For simplicity’s sake, she always stuck to the same story.

He glanced at her over his half glasses as she handed him a threaded suture needle. “An animal lover to the bone.”

“I suppose so.” Some of the twenty-three scars were short and small, barely scratches, while others had been deep and gaping. The one in her belly had been the most damaging. He’d plunged the knife into her gut, lacerating her intestines.

“Gail tells me you had a date last night.”

Leah glanced up, a bit surprised that they’d been talking about her. “Funny thing about the date. I got a text from the hospital telling me there was an emergency. But when I got here, the place was dark. I started to think maybe the text was stuck in the airways.”

Dr. Nelson shook his head as he sewed. “I didn’t send it. Frankly, I’m not sure if I’d know how. Could Gail have sent it?”

“I called, but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. A quirk. Either way, Gail will know.”

“Maybe.” She hadn’t questioned the text too closely at first because it had rescued her from the date and her growing panic attack. But now, she wondered.

The front bell of the clinic rang. Dr. Nelson glanced up at the clock. “Tracker’s uncle. Never misses a visit.”

Alex.

“It’s Sunday.”

“I don’t think the day of the week matters to him. Would you mind getting it while I finish up our little friend here?”

Her nerves tightened. “Sure.”

Leah moved through the hallway toward the main door, and when she pushed open the door to reception saw Alex standing on the other side of the glass door. He wore a dark suit, a white shirt, and a red tie, leaving her to wonder if the man owned any other type of clothing.

She turned the dead bolt and pushed open the door. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”

“I said I would check on Tracker daily.”

“I guess I thought you’d take Sunday off.”

“No. Dr. Nelson said he had surgery today and a visit would be fine.”

She stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Once he was in the lobby, she locked the dead bolt behind him, resisting the urge to click it open and then close it again. “It’s not a problem. Tracker’s sleeping in the back.”

A quick nod, and he followed her down the hallway to the holding room. When he entered, Tracker raised his head and his tail thumped. Alex moved toward the cage and opened it. The dog pushed himself up to standing and leaned into Alex’s hand while he rubbed him behind the ears and told him he’d be going home soon.

“So did you get your emergency squared away last night?”

She leaned on the doorjamb, her arms folded. Here she was relaxed, in her element. “Turns out it was a false alarm. I got here and the place was dark and locked up tight.”

A frown creased his brow as she glanced up. “That happen often?”

“Never. Odd. I’ve got a call in to my assistant to find out if she sent the text. No answer yet.”

Alex dug a chew stick from his coat pocket and handed it to Tracker. The dog immediately took it and retreated to the corner of his crate, where he greedily started chewing. Alex quietly closed the door and locked it.

He faced her, looking in command of the space even as he seemed so out of place there. “Want to try a second date?”

She pushed away from the door, a quick and sharp tension banding her muscles. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

No maybe. No gray. Black and white. “Okay.”

“Later this week.”

“I’m off evenings later in the week.”

His head tipped slightly to the right. “You said you were out of practice dating. I’m trying to figure out why.”

“Busy with school, I suppose.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

“Really?”

“You’ve pulled yourself off the market. Why?”

Smile. Fold arms. Relax. “I don’t think I know you that well.”

He shrugged. “We’ll fix that on our next date.”

“I’m a hard case, Alex. More work than you probably can devote. You sure you want to bother?”

He crossed the room and stood within inches of her. He didn’t touch her, but the heat and energy of his body zapped around her like an electrical current. “I’m sure. I’ll call you soon, Leah.”

He moved past her in a rush of determined energy. The front door opened and she followed. He strode across the parking lot toward a black SUV as she reached for the lock and clicked it closed. Nervous energy buzzed, and she waited for him to drive off before she clicked the lock open. Closed. Open and finally, well and truly, closed.

 

 

Detective Deidre Jones arrived at the Nashville Police Department offices just after four. She hadn’t wanted to come in today, but she had to take care of business.

As she walked up to the glass-front door and caught her reflection, she paused and studied her features. Some might consider what she’d done wrong, but if they understood that survival and love had prompted her actions, they’d understand. She’d had two choices, both bad, and she’d sacked up and made a decision. Good, bad, or indifferent, she was in this game until the end. Walk a mile in her shoes and then you could judge.

She made her way to the evidence room and smiled at the officer on duty. She pulled her badge from her jacket and flipped it open. “Detective Deidre Jones.”

The young officer had a fresh-faced look that Deidre knew she’d once had. When she’d first become a cop, it had all been about catching bad guys. She’d wanted to rid the world of evil, like she was fucking Wonder Woman. The world was black and white. Good versus evil. But in a flash, the black and white had blurred. She still caught bad guys. Still considered herself one of the good ones. But she understood now that life just wasn’t as clear-cut as it once had been.

What she’d done bothered her, given her some sleepless nights. But what upset her as much as the dirty deed was that she’d confessed her secret in a moment of weakness to her soon-to-be ex-husband. At one time they’d been so close. They’d met almost four years earlier right after she’d taken the detective job with Nashville Vice. Tyler Radcliff had been working as a deputy in a small town near Nashville, and they’d met at some cop fund-raiser. It had all been wine and roses.

Loving Tyler had been so easy and perfect in those early days of their marriage. His strength had made her feel protected in a world that felt as if it were crumbling. Complete trust had gone hand in hand with love. That trust, combined with a little too much Jim Beam, had coaxed the secret loose.

When their marriage really soured she couldn’t exactly say. But the demands of her job took a toll. He certainly blamed the growing distance on her job. How many times had he said that she loved the work more than him? At first, she’d denied the accusations. Of course she loved him more. But each time he correctly pointed to yet another night he’d sat waiting for her at a restaurant or bar while she’d been finishing up a stakeout or meeting with the medical examiner.

As the weeks, months, and accusations accumulated, she’d wondered if he didn’t see a truth she denied. She did love her job. Distance grew between them, even as her case-closure rate soared. Nothing, including great sex, revved her up more than catching a piece of scum like Ray Murphy.

Tyler had grown increasingly angry, and several times last fall, when she’d dragged in the back door dog-ass tired, he’d gotten in her face and accused her of sleeping around. She hadn’t been screwing around. She’d been working, and it hurt like hell to realize he didn’t trust her. Finally, one night after a bad fight, she’d stopped crying and gotten pissed. Five months ago, she’d packed up a suitcase full of clothes and moved out.

Initially, the guilt had chewed on her. He’d begged her to return. Said he loved her. But as much as he pleaded, she understood their marriage was over. There were moments, generally after she’d reached the bottom of her fourth or fifth beer, when she could admit she still loved Tyler. But the next morning, when she woke sober and clear-eyed, she realized the decision to leave had been the right one.

Then he’d started following her. Calling her. Sending flowers. Coming by the station. Generosity gave way to desperation. More than anything, she just wanted him to leave her alone. Stop with the late-night calls. Stop sending her e-mails laced with profanity and threats.

Six weeks ago, he’d completely stepped over the line. He’d approached her while she was in the produce aisle of the grocery store. He’d come up behind her as she filled a plastic bag with apples. He’d scared the shit out of her, and she’d dropped the apples, sending them rolling over the tile floor. When she’d told him to back off, he’d threatened to expose her secret. He had no reason to remain loyal if she didn’t. He’d stalked off, leaving her to pick up the bruised fruit. She’d known then what needed to be done. Tyler would bring her career tumbling down. The threats had to be nullified.

Talking to Leah had hit a nerve. They were more alike than she’d ever want to admit. Yes, she was a cop who wasn’t afraid to go balls to the wall when chasing a suspect, but right now, her world, as Leah’s had been, was a house of cards.

She hated using Leah, but, deep in her gut, she believed that one day she would look at her and know in her heart she’d done the woman solid.

One day. If this little game of Russian roulette didn’t backfire. “Damn.”

She signed the evidence log and grinned at the officer. “Cold enough for you out there?”

“I’m not a fan of winter. I dream of floating down the Cumberland in an inner tube and drinking beer.”

“Oh, man, don’t tease me with those images. I think it’ll be July before I thaw.”

He laughed. “Heard about the bust you did. Ray Murphy is a Grade A bad guy. Nice work.”

“I love what I do.”

“It gets noticed.”

“Nice to know.”

She made her way along the rows of file boxes until she found the one she needed. From her purse, she pulled out an envelope full of worn twenties, tens, and fives and tucked it into the familiar file box. She’d sold her wedding bands and all her mother’s jewelry to raise the cash, and though it stung parting with her mother’s pieces, making the box whole, paying back the money she’d
borrowed
last week, had been a necessary first step. The second, a more critical step, would come tonight.

She closed the box, locked it, and walked toward the officer as if she didn’t have the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. She dug her keys from her purse. “Here’s to inner tubes and beer.”