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

by Mary Burton

  “What’re you doing here, Radcliff?” His feet planted, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I came to talk to Leah about Deidre. I want to find the bastard who killed my wife.”

  “It’s not your place to talk to Leah or anyone else attached to this case. That’s my job.”

  “No way will I be staying on the sidelines. Deidre was my wife. We might have had our problems, but I’m sure, in the end, we would have worked it out.”

  Leah studied the tall, broad-shouldered man, wondering if he were lying or simply delusional.

  Alex shook his head. “Are you armed?”

  “Sure. I always carry.”

  Alex’s hand settled on his gun. The holster strap was unclipped. “Step away now. Let me handle Leah.”

  “No way, Morgan. Deidre’s murderer is my responsibility. I’m her husband.”

  “If you don’t start moving now, I’ll lock you up. And that’s not going to do anyone any good. I know you’ve got a tough reelection coming this fall, and I sure would hate to see you lose your job.”

  “You’d really arrest me?”

  “Yes, I would.” Conviction strengthened the words as Alex nodded to the gun holstered at Tyler’s side.

  Tyler clenched and unclenched his hands. “I’m trying to find out who killed my wife.”

  “I got people working on Deidre’s case around the clock. Go home, Tyler. Do yourself a favor and let me handle this. Go home now.”

  Tyler glanced back at Leah, his gaze narrowing. “She knows more than she’s saying. I can feel it in my gut.”

  Leah held Tyler’s gaze, her anger over this entire situation rising. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Leave,” Alex ordered.

  Tyler looked back at Alex. “I’ll be checking in with you.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Alex stood his ground, watching as Tyler got in his pickup truck and drove away, the wheels squealing as he accelerated.

  She glanced at her phone and the 9-1-1 call she’d never put through. “He told you he had a gun. He told you he’s on some kind of hunt. You just let him go.”

  Alex faced her. “I did.”

  Emotions burned hotter, and her voice was louder and angrier than she’d intended. “He could have killed Deidre.”

  He seemed to chew on unspoken words, wondering if he should share his thoughts with her, before he rejected the notion. “I’m not here to talk about Tyler. I’m here to talk about you.”

  His noncommittal response didn’t dampen her temper. She’d guarded her emotions so closely for so long, and now her anger threatened to spill over. “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I know about your past. I know what Philip Latimer did to you.”

  Her temper reared, pulled at the leash. “Wow, Deidre’s husband is tracking me down and you’ve dug into my past. That’s the kind of thing Philip would have done.”

  He shoved a hand in his pocket, seeming to chew on a few more less-pleasant words. “I didn’t do it out of morbid curiosity. I spoke to Deidre’s sister. In our conversation, Philip Latimer’s name came up.”

  “What? She must be wrong. How would Deidre know Philip?”

  “Deidre’s been a cop with the Nashville Police Department for twelve years.”

  “I know.” Pieces she’d never thought to connect scurried together and locked into place. She thought back to when they’d first met. Deidre had approached her. Deidre had invited her out to coffee. Into the running group. She’d initiated it all. Nausea had her stomach contracting. “She worked with Philip.”

  “She didn’t work with him, but they knew each other.” His tone remained even, unstirred by emotion. “She ever ask about what happened to you four years ago?”

  “No. We didn’t talk about the past.” She rubbed her right thumb over the rough scar on her left palm. Deidre had opened the door to the past a couple of times during a few conversations, but she’d never passed through it. “What do you know?”

  “I don’t have the whole picture of Deidre’s past, but I’m putting it together.”

  “What do you know about Philip and me?”

  “About the attack? I’ve read everything on record.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  She pressed a trembling finger to her temple. “Why should their past connection matter? Philip was killed in a car crash in South Carolina.”

  Alex studied her, and she sensed him digging in his heels. “Have you ever read Philip’s autopsy report?”

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  “I’ve read it. I even had the medical examiner in Nashville review it. I’m not convinced the body was Philip’s.”

  For a split second her head spun. This worst-case scenario moment still invaded her dreams and could bring her out of a sound sleep screaming. “What?”

  “I’m not sure he’s dead.”

  Missing keys. Strange charges on her credit card. The flowers. A flat tire. All the random events lined up into a pattern. She clamored to hang on to control and not panic. “I spoke to the officer in South Carolina several times. She told me he was dead.”

  Alex’s cool demeanor didn’t waver. “I’d like to have his body exhumed.”

  “What?” Opening that grave was akin to opening a wound that had never healed. She feared what unseen poison festered there.

  “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. An
d 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

  Friday, January 20, 4 P.M.

  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?”