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

by Mary Burton

  Alex sat in his car, leaning back just far enough in his seat so Leah couldn’t see his face. He’d wondered if she’d show today. Wondered who else in the running group would show. He’d arrived just as the group had set out on the footpath. He’d waited ten minutes before he’d followed. Good to be close, but not too close.

  Leah had fallen behind, and several times he’d had to slow his pace so he didn’t overtake her. He could hear her breathing, knew she was struggling, but she kept running. Kept moving.

  She was an odd mix. Loved animals, even lowered her guard around them, but with people, she was always on guard. Somewhere along the way, she’d been broken.

  Toward the end of the run he’d cut down the side path and turned on the juice, his long legs eating up the space so that he arrived ahead of her. He’d seen David’s car in the lot, waiting. Was he being gallant or was he lurking? Stalking?

  He’d gotten into his car, stripped off his wet jacket, hat, and gloves. He turned on the engine and heater, soaking up the warmth.

  Blowing into chilled hands, he waited and watched the woods for Leah to emerge. Another ten minutes had passed and he’d been on the verge of heading back down the muddy path when she’d appeared, soaked to the skin but still running. One foot in front of the other.

  Most would have been put off by Leah’s odd juxtaposition of personality traits. She certainly was everything he didn’t need. But he liked her quirks. Her spirit. Her. He’d never understood the concept of love at first sight. Thought it was for fools. The weak. Not logical. But in this moment, the idea had merit.

  Leah drove home, all the while checking her rearview mirror for any signs of the car. Nothing. No one was behind her. False alarm.

  At a stoplight, Leah slumped back in her seat and swiped a hand over her damp hair. I’m losing it. A man in the park. This has nothing to do with me. Philip is buried in the ground.

  In the days when Philip had been stalking her, she’d learned to vary her routine. Never take the same route twice. Instead of turning onto her street as she normally did, she circled the block once and then twice, all the while looking in her rearview mirror to confirm no one had followed. Now, distracted, she didn’t notice the traffic stopping unexpectedly. When she did, she had to jam her foot on the brakes. Her wheels hydroplaned and she nearly slammed into the car in front of her. Heart pounding, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. No one was following her, but if she didn’t get her act together, she’d have bigger problems.

  Rattled, she drove directly to her town house and parked in front of it. A glance at the clock, and she realized she’d not only almost wrecked her car but she was late. Damn. No time for doughnuts. She dashed inside, locked the doors behind her, and hurried to the shower.

  As she stood under the spray, the heat of the water teased a shudder from her chilled bones. She quickly washed her hair and then soaped her body. Fingertips grazed the uneven scars on her forearms and belly, lingering on the thick raised scar on her left side. Not Philip’s first cut, but his most lethal. This had been the cut that nearly ended her life.

  Leah flexed her fingers, rinsed off the remainder of the soap, and shut off the tap. As she toweled off, she looked toward the long full mirror, thickly clouded with condensation. Wrapping the towel around her, she wiped clean a section and exposed only her face so that she didn’t have to see all her scars. The two on her face ran along her right chin. The plastic surgeon had worked long and hard to repair the damage.

  She dried her hair and applied the special makeup designed to cover birthmarks and scars. Once it was applied, her skin looked almost normal. A half hour later, she emerged from her town house, coffee in hand, dressed in a dark turtleneck, jeans, and black walking shoes.

  The rain had cleared out, but the January morning jealously gripped the cold. Her purse slung over her shoulder, she hurried to her car, set her cup in the holder beside the early morning’s stale one. She started the engine, welcomed the heat, and was reaching for the gearshift when her phone rang. She glanced at the number. A local area code. Because she didn’t recognize it, she let voice mail pick up the call and drove into the office.

  She arrived at the clinic by eight. Flipping on the front lights in reception, she immediately locked the main door behind her. She made a habit of always locking the doors when she was there alone. Gail would arrive at eight thirty, and from then on the doors would be open.

  Most mornings, she had about half an hour to check on the overnight patients and review the morning schedule before the first round of appointments arrived. Only two overnight guests were housed in the kennel at the moment. Tracker and a tomcat who’d gotten into a fight. She’d stitched up the cat yesterday and given him a strong sedative so he would sleep through the night. Now he was awake and glaring at the cage bars as he scratched at the white cone-shaped collar around his neck.

  Tracker rose, silent, his gaze alert as the cat hissed. Normally, the shepherd was a quiet dog. Not one to bark but always paying attention as he waited. Friendly enough, he never wagged his tail until Alex arrived to check on him. Tracker understood Alex was part of his pack.

  “Going home today, Tracker.” She checked her watch. “Your dad should be here by lunch.”

  She opened Tracker’s cage as the cat batted his cage. The shepherd eased out of his crate, his joints stiff from age and years of police work.

  As she hooked Tracker’s leash and led him toward the back door, the tomcat hissed loud and clear. She laughed. “Don’t complain to me, mister. You’re the one who likes to duke it out on the mean streets. You’re lucky you didn’t lose a foot. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

  Outside, Tracker raised his nose and sniffed the air, as if savoring the cold. They walked around the parking lot and toward the ring of woods that surrounded the lot. As much as she didn’t like the cold, she didn’t rush Tracker. Fifteen minutes later, the two were back inside and she was loading fresh food and water into his bowls. The dog ate happily.

  Leah cleaned the cat’s litter box and then filled his bowls. He dove into the food, growling as he gobbled. She went to the break room and put a pot of coffee on to brew before heading to her office.

  Her room was a small space, barely large enough for the desk, a chair for her, and another for anyone else who needed to sit. Bookshelves lined the walls behind her, but other than a few of her veterinary textbooks, most of the space was filled with books that had belonged to the former vet. Her diploma hung on the wall, but she had no personal photos or mementos for the shelves. Maybe, over time, she’d make memories and her own mark.

  The front door opened and closed, and she recognized Dr. Nelson’s slow, steady footsteps. She always relaxed a fraction when he or Gail arrived and she was no longer alone.

  “Leah,” Dr. Nelson said, leaning on her door frame. “Did you have a chance to walk our overnight guest?”

  “I did.”

  “Thank you. I was worried because I was running late. I had a power outage last night and overslept.”

  She smiled. “You can always text me.”

  “I had my wife call and she left a voice-mail message.”

  Leah reached in her purse for her phone and noted the number. “I’ll put her name and number in my contact book so I recognize her the next time. Sorry about that.”

  He rubbed his cold hands together. “No problem. Nice to know I have good help.”

  She rose and slid on her white jacket. “We got a lot of icy rain last night. Did that damage your power lines?”

  “My wife’s got a call in to the electric company. But we’re the only house without juice.”

  A distant alarm bell clanged in her head. It was easy to cut the power to a house. It took so little effort to totally ruin another’s day.

  “So what’s on the agenda?” she asked, clearing her throat.

  “Full morning of appointments. The usual. Shots. Checkups and a case of mange. The rest I’m not so sure about. Routine.”

  “I
like routine.”

  She filled her coffee cup in the break room and headed out toward reception, where she found Gail logging onto her computer. She had short, curly hair that framed a round face, wore a scrubs top over her jeans. She had been with the clinic at least two years. Young and full of energy, she talked often about becoming a vet tech but hadn’t done much about looking into programs. Still, the clients loved her because she knew every pet’s name and history.

  Leah and Dr. Nelson began the morning round of appointments and she soon lost track of the time. By the time she took a break, it was after eleven.

  She handed the last of the morning files to Gail. “Busy morning.”

  “You just missed Tracker. His owner got him.”

  She checked her watch. “He’s early.”

  “I couldn’t tell who was happier to see who.” Gail grinned. “He said to say thank you.”

  Tracker was gone. That meant no more visits from Alex. “Glad to help.”

  Gail reached for a large arrangement of flowers. “We just got a delivery,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. The crystal vase, filled with purple irises, caught the fluorescent light and somehow made the arrangement even more beautiful. The display of freshly cut flowers was stunning.

  Leah took a small step back. Irises. She’d carried a bouquet of irises at her wedding. At the time she’d loved the delicate soft petals. She’d bought extra that day because the flowers had been on sale. Later, she’d discovered they’d been on their last legs and had died almost immediately.

  With her soon-to-die flowers and wearing her modest white dress, she’d smiled up at Philip moments before she was to walk down the aisle.

  Philip had frowned. “You look sad.”

  Jitters made sense on a wedding day, but her feelings had strayed toward sadness and worry. “I wish my mom could be here. Doesn’t seem right.”

  He draped a large arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hold. “She’ll come around. You’ll see. Just give her time.”

  “I don’t know. The fight we had the other night was pretty bad.”

  A hint of a smile flickered over his eyes and passed so quickly that she decided she’d imagined it. “You’ve got me.” He pulled a blossom from her bouquet and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

  Now, as Leah stared at the flowers, tension, regret, and guilt collided. As quickly as those flowers had withered, so had her hopes for her marriage. How could she have been so blind? So foolish? She was a smart woman with very poor judgment.

  “You okay?” Gail asked.

  Moistening now-dry lips, Leah injected a false lightness into her voice. “I’m fine. Who’re they for?”

  Gail beamed and plucked out a small white card nestled in the blossoms. “You.”

  “Me?” Fear sliced through the nerves in her body. “Who would send me flowers?”

  Gail arched a brow. “What, a girl like you doesn’t have some boys hanging around?”

  “No. None.”

  Gail shook her head as she wistfully stared at the bouquet. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer.”

  Confidence cracked under her like thin ice. “You make that sound like a good thing.”

  “Honey, it is. I’d love to have one.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.”

  Gail’s gaze, caught by Leah’s tone, rose. “You look like someone walked over your grave.”

  Leah’s eyes slid to the flowers, an explosion of purples and whites. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded distant and tense. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  Dr. Nelson appeared. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone sent Leah flowers and it’s spooked her bad,” Gail said.

  Dr. Nelson took the card from Gail. “You want me to open it?”

  “No,” she whispered. She wanted to be brave and prove the past was behind her, but she couldn’t. They were just flowers. “I just wasn’t expecting flowers.”

  “Do you mind if I open the card?” Dr. Nelson asked.

  Leah grabbed the card from his hand and stared at the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. Her name was written in blue ink. The L ended and began with a loop, and the h rose with a high upward swipe. The handwriting was female. Not male. Not Philip.

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed her neatly shorn thumbnail under the envelope flap and tore the paper.

  “You sure you don’t want me to do it?” Dr. Nelson asked.

  Nervous laughter bubbled and fizzled. “I should be able to open an envelope.”

  “You look like you’re going to be sick,” he cautioned.

  A not-so-genuine smile tugged the edges of her lips. “I’m not a fan of cut flowers. I like plants.”

  Gail shook her head. “Honey, what girl doesn’t like flowers?”

  “I’m more of a candy girl, I guess.” The attempt at humor fell flat as the two stared at her. “Chocolate wins my heart.” She pinched the top of the card and pulled it from the envelope. Don’t be such a child. They’re cut flowers, for God’s sake.

  Logic soothed her nerves enough for her to pull the card free and glance down at the handwriting. However, all sense of peace and calm shattered with a glance. The card read, Happy Anniversary.

  She staggered back a half step as she dropped the card and watched it flutter to the floor. Her chest tightened.

  Dr. Nelson picked up the card and read it. He frowned, more out of curiosity than concern. “Happy Anniversary.’ What anniversary?”

  A past she’d locked tightly in a box rattled against the confines of its enclosure. She hadn’t reconnected with past friends and she hadn’t told new ones about Philip.

  “I was married when I was just out of college. It didn’t end well.”

  He frowned. “Do you think your ex-husband sent this?”

  “No, he couldn’t have. He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Gail asked. “That’s horrible.”

  Leah rubbed her fingertips over the tense muscles now banding across her forehead. “We were divorced when he died.” A lie. “But still terrible.” A bigger lie.

  “Who would send the flowers?” Gail asked.

  Her rising gaze met Gail’s, filled with anger and worry. Instantly, she was sorry she’d said anything. Philip had systematically isolated her from her friends with threats and violence, and she refused to allow him to do it again from the grave.

  “Did either of you two surprise me with the flowers to celebrate my four-month anniversary at the clinic?”

  Both shook their heads.

  She forced a laugh that almost rang genuine. “Then it has to be some kind of mistake.” Funny how easily she lied.

  As she traced the edge of the card with her finger, she wondered. What if he weren’t dead? What if the cops had made a mistake and didn’t even realize it?

  There’d been too many oddities that had popped up in her life in too short a period of time. The man in the park. Phone calls. Deidre’s death.

  As tempted as she was now to lock herself in her office and dial the South Carolina detective’s number again, she wouldn’t. She didn’t want Dr. Nelson or Gail to think this was more than a minor jolt. She didn’t want them to know she’d married a true monster.

  “Gail, why don’t you keep the flowers out here in reception? They really are lovely and it would be a shame not to share them.” She slid the card in her pocket. “You know what this is? I’ll bet my late husband’s grandmother sent the flowers. She was always so sweet to me and she does have dementia.” More lies. Soon, they’d weave around her like a spiderweb and choke her alive.

  Leah moved into her office and closed the door. She picked up the receiver as she glanced at the card. The flowers had been sent from a store called Nathan’s. She dialed the number. Five rings later, her call went to voice mail. She cleared her throat. “This is Leah Carson. I’m calling about an order of irises I just received. Maybe you can help me sol
ve a mystery. I can’t figure out who would have sent me such a lovely arrangement.” She left her number and hung up.

  Leaning over, she put her hands on her knees and allowed herself deep even breaths. She straightened and dialed the South Carolina detective’s number. Again, she was routed to voice mail. Again, she left a message.

  If she didn’t hear back from the detective really damn soon, she’d drive to the office in Greenville and park on somebody’s doorstep until she did receive answers.

  Tyler waited in the lobby of the funeral home, sitting on the edge of a fancy couch. Soothing music hummed overhead and the faint scent of gardenias hovered in the air. The double sliding oak doors opened, and he glanced up to see a tall woman. She wore a navy-blue dress and had pulled back long, blond hair into a bun. Hints of makeup accentuated her eyes and full lips. She crossed the room, her sensible shoes barely making a sound on the hardwood floor, and extended her hand to him. “Sheriff Radcliff?”

  He rose, gripping the brim of his sheriff’s hat. He could have come in civilian clothes today, but somehow wearing his uniform gave him comfort, maybe even a little distance from what was about to happen. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m Jessie Dupree. I’ve been assigned to your wife.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He extended his hand. “I brought a set of clothes for her. It’s a dress. She didn’t love the dress, but it was one of my favorites. Made her look so pretty.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  “You had no problem with the state medical examiner’s office?”

  “Not a bit. Once you gave them our name, the process was quite smooth. We just received Mrs. Radcliff from the medical examiner’s office.” She had a firm grip and her gaze held steady. “I understand you’d like to see your wife.”

  He’d seen his share of dead bodies and had rarely been troubled by them. They were evidence. But the idea of seeing Deidre’s lifeless face rattled every sinew and bone in his body. The side door opened, and a tall, slim woman wearing a lab coat approached him. “Yes?”