I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville) (16 page)

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 solve 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?”

“We’ve not finished, and I would recommend that you wait. Our makeup artist is very talented and will be able to showcase her natural beauty.”

“I’m sure. And that will be fine for the funeral. But for now, I’d like to see her just as she is.”

A neatly plucked brow arched. “If that’s your wish.”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

He trailed behind her down a long carpeted hallway past several sets of double doors that led into parlors. A couple were marked
IN USE.
Tyler had the sense of walking down a dark tunnel. The deeper he moved down that tunnel, the tighter his grip on his emotions grew. He would not cry. He would not lose his shit in front of the doctor.

At the end of the hallway they pushed through another wooden door, this one leading to a tiled room filled with a collection of drawers stacked neatly one above another. In the center of the room was a stainless-steel table, and beside it a collection of face paints and fillers. She moved to a drawer in the middle of the wall and laid her hand on the silver handle. “You’re sure?”

Hell no, he wasn’t sure. “Yes.”

She twisted the handle and the door swung open. Inside lay a draped body. She pulled out the slab until the body jutted out several feet. As she gripped the edges of the sheet, he thought her hands were just as pale as the thick fabric and wondered how someone came to have a job like this. Slowly, she pulled back the sheet.

For a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he got his first full look at Deidre since her death. There were angry bloodless gashes on her face. One across the cheek. The other across her chin. Color had abandoned her skin and her pale lips were parted slightly, as if she needed to whisper something to him in his ear.

Tears burned the back of his eyes and his throat tightened with emotions he’d never imagined.

Even in death, she possessed a terrible beauty that still drew him. He’d loved her for so long, he wondered what would fill the space in his heart that she’d carved out for herself. Whatever lay before him now might look like his wife, but he understood that his Deidre was dead and gone forever.

Carefully, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. Cold to the touch, her skin didn’t feel like Deidre’s. Despite all the bitter problems that had eaten away at their marriage, he took satisfaction in knowing the last lips she’d ever feel against her skin would forever and always be his.

 

 

The phone cradled under his chin, Alex dialed Deke’s number as he made his way through traffic. His brother answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”

“Any more information on the listening device found at Deidre’s town house?”

The sound of Deke shuffling through papers echoed through the phone line. “Can be ordered from a hundred different Internet sites. Has a listening radius of a couple of miles.”

“Who was listening in on Deidre’s life?”

“Controlling soon-to-be ex-husband and secret lover aside, I think this could also have something to do with her work. Have you reviewed her case files lately? She’s put away a couple of really bad drug dealers.”

“Who’s top of the list?”

“Top three is more like it. Ray Murphy, Tyrone Willis, and Sammy King. All three of them are hurting because of her undercover work.”

“Which cases would have moved forward without her testimony?”

“They’re all solid cases. She did a hell of a job and she’s the one who triggered their downfall. We both know Ray has one bad temper. But the other two could be just as guilty. Killing a cop sends one hell of a message.”