by Mary Burton
“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.”
An unspoken tension hummed between them. “His grandmother passed last year, but I know he had cousins and a half brother.” She moved toward the front door, peered past the drawn drapes at the dark parking lot. She double-checked the dead bolt on the door. Locked. “He also had friends who weren’t happy with me. They could have sent them.”
“How would they know our new addresses?”
“Philip was clever. No one ever questioned his intelligence. For all we know, there could be others in his family or at his old job just as clever.”
“Only a monster would support something like that.” Her aunt spoke carefully, as if speaking to a wild horse ready to spook. “Just call the detective tomorrow and save the card, like you had to do in the old days.”
Leah moved to her purse and pulled out her journal. “I’m sorry we can’t ever have a real conversation. I’m sorry there’s always a problem.”
“You didn’t deserve this. It was never your fault. And I’m happy to talk to you any time.”
“I insisted on dating Philip. Mom was against it, and we argued a few times about it.”
A sigh shuddered through the phone. “Maybe one day I’ll share with you some of the boneheaded things I did when I was young. And a few things your mother did as well.”
A mental picture of two mature women, neatly put together, didn’t jive with the confession. “You two couldn’t have been that bad.”
“You might be surprised. Just do me a favor and don’t let this throw you into a tailspin. Stay away from the cigarettes and keep going to your group meetings. You’re still going, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I went yesterday.” As much as Leah wanted to talk about Deidre, she didn’t dare. She’d brought more than enough trouble to her aunt’s doorstep and didn’t need to bring anymore.
“Are you going to be okay?”
She pulled a pen from her purse. “I’ll be fine. Sorry to bother you, Aunt Jane.”
“Don’t worry about it. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Call me when you figure this out.”
“I will.” She ended the call and immediately began to write about the incident in her journal.
Alex arrived at the state medical examiner’s office minutes after eight, a newly acquired file tucked under his arm. He approached reception, showed his badge, and stated he had an appointment with Dr. Heller. He’d only had minutes to wait before she appeared at the side door. Dark slacks and a chestnut-brown turtleneck accentuated her long frame. She wore her hair pinned up in a tight bun at the base of her neck. Reading glasses perched on her head.
She crossed the lobby, smiling. “Alex, what can I do for you?”
“I have a file I’d like you to review.”
“Sure. Come on back.” She scanned her card at the door and it clicked open, and the two moved to a small conference room off the lobby. She sat at the head of the table and he took the seat to her left. “What do you have for me?”
“It’s an autopsy report. Done by a coroner in South Carolina.”
“Okay.”
He pushed the file toward her. “Read it and let me know what you think. It’s only a couple of pages.”
She perched her glasses on her nose and leaned forward as she opened the file. She read the first page and frowned. The second page deepened that frown, and by the time she’d reached the third page, she looked puzzled.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s rather incomplete. The body was badly burned in the car accident, but there was no DNA testing done, nor were dental records pulled. The identification was made solely on a charred wallet at the scene, a ring on the victim’s finger, and hearsay from several witnesses.”
“If you were going to fake a death . . .”
“I’d pick a jurisdiction like this. It’s rural, the county coroner isn’t a medical professional by trade, and it would be a place where identification mistakes are likely. That’s not to say they didn’t ID the right guy. They may have, but I’d want more evidence to make a ruling.”
He sat back in his chair, almost sorry his instincts were proving correct. “Right.”
“Why pull this file?” She glanced at the name on the file again. “Why care about Philip Latimer? It’s way out of your jurisdiction. Why care about a guy who died in South Carolina four years ago?”
“Latimer was a police officer in Nashville until four years ago. His boss disciplined him when his estranged wife filed stalking charges against him. Latimer ended up trying to kill her.”
Frown lines appeared as she tapped a finger on the file. “I think I remember that case. She survived.”
“She did.” Alex mentally traced the scars on Leah’s palm, remembering their roughness. “Latimer stabbed his wife twenty-three times.”
Dr. Heller yanked off her glasses. “Deidre Jones was stabbed twenty-three times.”
“Yes, she was.”
“Are you suggesting a connection to the Deidre Jones case?”
“I am.”
She wrapped her index finger around a thin gold cross hanging from a chain around her neck and absently slid it back and forth. “How’d you come up with this guy’s name?”
“The woman who found Deidre’s body was Leah Carson. Also known as Leah Latimer. She was the wife Latimer stabbed twenty-three times. Deidre’s sister also got into serious trouble five years ago. Drugs. The arresting officer was Philip Latimer, and the key evidence in the case vanished.”
“What’re you saying?”
“I have no hard evidence, only a theory. I think Deidre approached Philip for a favor, and he helped her out. Then, a couple of months later, when he was on the run after nearly killing his wife, he called in Deidre’s favor. She helped him get out of town.”
A deep frown furrowed her brow. “And fake his death?”
“I don’t know. But you’re not happy with the quality of the report. And given the manner of Deidre’s death—twenty-three stab wounds—I’m wondering if Latimer might be alive.”
“Why come back after all this time?”
“Money. Deke had a suspicion Deidre was skimming money from some of her cases. Up until a month ago she worked hard at her job, and there were no whispers of scandal. Then money started vanishing. Maybe she got tired of paying and Latimer killed her.” That didn’t explain the John Doe at the warehouse, or how Deidre’s business card had ended up in a bag nearby. He didn’t have all the pieces but he would.
“You really think Deidre helped him?”
He always relied strongly on instinct. “I do.”
She closed the file, absently tapping her index finger on the folder. “Have there been any signs that Latimer is alive? Has anyone seen him?”
“If they have, they haven’t said.” Maybe the charred body was an unlucky bastard who spotted Latimer. But it begged the question: if Latimer were alive, why had he left Leah alone these past four years? Why hide out and not go after her again?
“Has his ex-wife noticed anything that would suggest she’s being stalked?”
“Not that she’s told me. And I think if Latimer is alive, and he did kill Deidre, he would have to lay low, stay out of sight.”
“What’s he waiting for?”
“Their anniversary. According to the files, he stabbed her on their wedding anniversary.”
She leaned back and pulled off her glasses. “That’s one heck of a theory, Agent.”
Hints of doubt rang clear. “I’ve asked Georgia to cross-check the fingerprints and DNA found at the murder scene against Latimer’s.”
“I would consider that one hell of a c
onnection if you can make it.”
“If I’m right, we only have a few days before Latimer makes a move on his ex-wife.”
He sat in his car, just a half block down the street from Leah’s house, shelling peanuts and popping them in his mouth. The shells littered his lap and the floor mat around him. Charlie slept wrapped in a warm blanket on the seat beside him.
A small speaker sat by him on the passenger seat, and he listened as Leah moved around her house, restless and unable to sleep. She’d called her aunt. Worried about the card. Good. Worry. Guess. “I did send the card. I know all there is to know about you.”
Charlie glanced up at the sound of his voice and he rubbed her between the ears and gently tucked the blanket around her.
“Lack of sleep is going to impair Leah’s judgment,” he said softly. “A canceled credit card is going to make life a challenge. That’s all good.”
The dog thumped her tail under the blanket.
As he rubbed the dog’s head, he closed his eyes, remembering Deidre’s face when he’d stabbed her. After the first plunge of the knife, terror had flashed in her eyes and reason had deserted him. He’d felt empowered. Aroused. Vindicated. When he’d stepped away from her lifeless body, blood had dripped from his face and hands. A lesser man would have crumpled, but his training and weeks of practice had taken over. Outside, he’d stripped off his Tyvek suit, shoved it in a garbage bag, and left the scene. The bag had landed in an incinerator. No trace evidence. Only memories remained.
He opened his eyes and looked at the dog. This savage side of himself was a surprise. Monsters stabbed women. Monsters raped and killed. He was no monster of course, so where had this streak of violence come from?
He’d been raised well. Had wanted a traditional life, including a wife and children. He didn’t want this kind of mayhem and violence stalking him. He wanted to be free of it. He was a victim.
Later, as he’d watched the flames devour the bag filled with the blood-soaked suit, he’d promised himself to have more control the next time. Lack of control led to mistakes. And if he didn’t make sloppy mistakes, it would all work out in the end.
He reached into the paper bag and pulled out another peanut, cracking the shell in his palm. Charlie looked at him, her ears perked. From his pocket he dug out a dog treat and handed it to her. She took it, greedily chewing the soft beefy strip.
He would be careful around Leah. He wouldn’t let it get out of hand. He wouldn’t strike until he was ready.
He reached for his tablet and found the Web site dedicated to Leah. It wasn’t live yet because the story wasn’t finished, but that was simply a matter of time.
ALL ABOUT LEAH
The Web site wouldn’t pass as professional, but it wasn’t bad. Leah’s picture was front and center. The first tab revealed thousands of older pictures. Many had been taken with a phone when she’d been a senior in college. Racing across campus with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Standing in line at the sandwich shop.
He’d created a new tab for photos taken in the last few months. Leah at the clinic, walking a dog. At her running group, warming up as the sun rose. On a date with David, the blond con man, who poached other men’s wives. He zeroed in on one image. She’d been at the park and he’d called out her name. He’d startled her, and she’d turned with only the barest hint of panic in her gaze. He loved the combination of the sun, her hair, and the way her panic brightened her blue gaze.
Watching her, trailing her was intoxicating. Distance was key right now, but a couple of weeks ago he’d bumped her shoulder as she’d passed him on a crowded street. He’d smelled her perfume, heard her soft intake of breath and her quick footsteps behind him. He’d vanished into the crowd, excited that he’d touched her.
Hunting juiced him.
He touched another tab. This one was marked FRIENDS. He opened the tab and searched the faces of David, Alex Morgan, and of course Deidre. Many of the pictures he’d taken as the trio had been running. Parks were an easy place to hide, or so he’d thought. Deidre had spotted him, though. He’d tried to turn away, but she’d caught the sunlight glinting off the lens of his camera. He’d feared her conscience would get the better of her and she’d confess all. Though he’d been thinking about killing her for weeks, in that moment he’d known she had to die that night.
Charlie still chewed her treat. “Be right back, girl.”
He got out of his truck and, glancing sideways to ensure he was alone, approached Leah’s car. He flicked open the blade of a pocketknife and knelt by the tire. Though tempted to slice the tire, he wasn’t ready to leave solid proof. Better to keep them all guessing until it was too late. He unscrewed the cap on the air valve and pressed the tip of the knife into the valve. Air hissed out and conjured memories of the air gurgling from Deidre’s lungs as she’d gasped her last breaths.
Killing Deidre had been more thrilling than he’d imagined. The plunge of the knife into her skin. The tear of her flesh. The warm, sticky blood on the tip of the knife. He wondered if killing Leah would offer the same level of excitement. A few more days and he would know.
Chapter Fifteen
Friday, January 20, 6 A.M.
Leah had plenty of excuses not to run this morning. Plenty of reasons to roll over and grab an extra hour of sleep. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after one in the morning, and it was going to be a long day at the clinic. Plenty of excuses.
But that all rang hollow. They all suggested she’d be a wimp if she listened to one of them. And Deidre . . . well, Deidre wouldn’t have bit on any of those excuses. She’d have shot Leah the look.
And so she’d rubbed her dry eyes, pulled on her cold-weather gear, and with a hot cup of coffee in hand, headed to her car. She was feet away when she noticed the back right tire was flat.
What the hell? She moved to the tire, kneeling and rubbing gloved hands over the rubber, searching for slices or cuts. Philip had sliced her tires when he’d been stalking her. In those days, she’d known he’d done the deed, but she could never prove it. Those flat tires always happened when she had to be at work early for something important or drive to Knoxville in final prep for the move.
Finding no slices or gouges, she wondered if this was more bad luck. The exposed skin on her face tingled in an icy breeze as she dug her cell out of her pocket and checked the time. Still a half hour before the running group met. AAA would never make it here in time for her to run this morning.
Gritting her teeth, she put her coffee in the car’s cup holder and popped the trunk. If being stalked had a positive side, it was learning to be independent. She could change a tire, rub out scratches, fix a slashed screened window, and even glaze a broken window. Thanks to Philip, she’d acquired an odd collection of skills.
She reached for the jack in the trunk and popped off the hubcap. Putting the jack under the body’s frame, she cranked the jack until it was supporting but not lifting the car. She loosened each of the lug nuts and then raised the flat tire off the ground. The flattened tire removed and tossed in the trunk, she grabbed the smaller spare. She seated it on the hub, hand-tightened the lug nuts, and then lowering the car to the ground finished each off with a hard turn of the tire iron.
She slid behind the wheel, cold and irritated. A glance at the clock showed she still had time to make the run. Heater blasting, she drove the few miles to the track, where a collection of cars waited, lights on, exhaust wafting. The black SUV was in the spot closest to the running course. Alex would be there. Little seemed to dissuade him from anything.
She shut off the engine and, sipping the last of the lukewarm coffee, got out of the car, wincing as the icy air whipped.
At exactly six thirty, Alex got out of his SUV. He glanced in her direction and looked almost surprised to see her. That look alone was enough to make her happy she’d made the trek. She might be the slowest in the group, but she was no quitter. She jogged to the track along with the other runners.
David glanced at Ale
x, frowned, but said nothing as he checked his watch. “We’ll do a five-mile run today. Check your watches. Let’s see what you can shave off your time.”
Leah checked her watch, knowing a personal best today would be finishing. She stretched along with the others, grateful Alex kept his distance from her. The less said, the better.
The first half mile of the run was rough. Her muscles complained about the work and her lungs stung each time she pulled in cold air. But she kept putting one step in front of the other and slowly her body warmed and found its steady rhythm. Days ago, she could have looked to the front of the group and seen Deidre’s long lean body eating up the distance with ease. But today it was Alex alone, running ahead of everyone. He moved from the track down the small trail cutting through the woods. Seconds later, he was out of sight.
The woods around her grew thicker with each pace, but as long as she could hear the foot strikes of the others she was fine. She sensed Alex was always close.
Managing a decent pace today, she never fell so far behind that she couldn’t hear the other runners. She was improving.
Alex had run point so that he could scan the woods for anyone that might be waiting or watching Leah. When he finished his run easily in forty minutes, he stopped at the mouth of the trail, waiting as each runner emerged.
There’d been a total of eleven today. David was first to emerge and then several other men. A few women reached the end five minutes later, and after another twenty minutes all were out except Leah. Nothing to be alarmed about. She ran slowly. Hell, when he thought about the medical records he’d read yesterday, it was a wonder she ran at all.
David walked up to him. “Leah is always the last one out.”
“Right.”
He hitched his hands on his hips. “Deidre always had a thing about waiting for her. Didn’t like leaving her alone in the woods. Since . . . well, since Deidre’s death, I figured I’d wait for Leah.”
“You don’t have to wait. I got this.” He cupped his gloved hands close to his mouth and blew hot air out to warm his fingertips.