I'll Never Let You Go (Morgans of Nashville 3)

She arched a brow. “I was doing more than trying. I even quit smoking.”

“I don’t picture you as a smoker.”

“Nervous habit.”

Around the animals she was relaxed. That smile she’d tossed Tracker had melted some of the ice. But she’d been a different person in the restaurant. Nervous. Jumpy. As if she expected trouble. He did that to people. Set them on edge. And he might have taken her reaction personally if not for the scars marring her hands. Defensive wounds.

Alex relaxed back against the seat. “I heard Deidre had been an avid runner for years. Apparently, she was always talking about the races she ran. She started this group last fall.”

That tweaked a small smile. “She was trying to convert me, but I’m not such a good recruit.”

“You look like you’re in good shape.”

“Not really. I needed a goal. I’m tackling a half marathon.”

“Why the half marathon?”

“Just because I want to know I can, I suppose.” Her cheeks flushed a pale pink.

A small lift of her shoulders reminded him of a defiant child’s. She was a grown woman. Why summon defiance? “How has the training been going?”

A slight shake of her head negated her words. “It’s going. I’ll never win a race, but the plan is to finish, not win.”

“So Deidre didn’t show up for practice and you came by the house?”

Some of the hard-gained luster in her cheeks faded. “The front door was locked, but the back door was ajar.”

“It was?”

“Yes. I pushed it completely open and called out to Deidre. When she didn’t answer, I peeked inside and saw her laying on the floor.” She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and drew in several calming breaths. “I got sick.”

“I heard.”

She shook her head, clearly embarrassed they’d been discussing her. “And then I called the police.”

“Did you see anyone leaving the property?”

“No. When I saw her, I kinda got tunnel vision. After I got sick, I ran out of the house. I don’t even remember talking to the police.”

“Do you know if Deidre was having trouble with anyone?”

“She said she was going through a divorce. She told me her ex-husband was giving her a hard time. She thought he keyed her car. She also said he made her sign over their property to him or he wouldn’t sign the final decree. She was angry. And, I think, embarrassed by it all.”

Alex knew of Deidre’s husband, Tyler Radcliff. Good reputation. But putting a best foot forward in public did not ensure a happy home life. “No one in the group had an issue with her?”

“No. No one.” She smoothed a small hand over her ponytail, and he noticed the small scar on her palm. Healed, but too reminiscent of Deidre’s.

The other night he’d asked Leah about the scars and she’d blamed it on an accident. He’d save the scar for another day. “You and Deidre see each other outside of the running group?”

“We did. I visited her at her hotel, and once here.”

“Hotel?”

“It was temporary, she said. Until she found something more permanent. She’d just signed a six-month lease on this place.”

“Do you know where the hotel was?”

“Yeah. Germantown.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and scrolled through the contacts. She rattled off the address. When he didn’t move, she asked, “Aren’t you going to write it down?”

“I’ll remember it.”

“You’ve got a great memory?”

“When I want to remember, I never forget.” The scars on Leah’s palms, her wrist, and the hair color change: details like that stuck with him.

“Look, do you mind if I go home? I’ve been here for hours and I’m exhausted. I gave my contact information to the officers.”

Alex hesitated, not wanting to let her off the hook so easily. “I may have more questions.”

“You’ve got my number.”

“At the clinic. Do you have a cell number?”

Hesitation, and then she rattled off the number.

He keyed it into his phone. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

He knocked on the window, and the officer came around and opened the door, which only opened from the outside. Once out, Alex walked around the car and opened Leah’s door. She rose, glancing back at the town house one last time and then tensing. “There was so much blood.”

“There was.” He watched her closely, wondering what other questions hovered behind those troubled eyes.

Her breath hitched. “She was stabbed, right?”

“Yes.”

For a moment she swayed, and he thought she’d fall down. “Right.”

He sensed weakness and wanted to push just to see what she’d do. Reactions under stress revealed so much. “Multiple times. Lots of defensive wounds. Hands, arms, chest.”

She raised her hands to her mouth and turned, as if she’d be sick again. He waited while she wrangled control of her body.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was a bare whisper. “I’m fine.”

“This is your first crime scene. The stress and nerves are understandable.”

“Yes.”

If he hadn’t been looking at her, he’d h

ave missed how her gaze skittered away for an instant. She was lying. She’d been at another crime scene somewhere. The blood she’d seen inside Deidre’s house hadn’t been the first time she’d encountered destruction. The scars. Where had they come from? “You’ve seen this kind of thing before?”

“Seen? No. No. I’ve never found a dead person.”

He believed that. Somewhere along the way, she’d been the one who had been found. This crime scene—no, this stabbing—had rattled not just her but old memories loose. She’d been stabbed. “Let me get an officer to drive you home.”

She cleared her throat. “No. I don’t need help.”

Leah Carson didn’t like taking orders, real or imagined. He couldn’t fault her there. He’d never cozied up to direction either.

“Okay. But one of my guys will follow you. You’re rattled, and he’ll be hovering in the background, keeping an eye on you, just in case.”

“Hovering in the background.’” Distaste coated her words.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No. It’s okay.”

He held out his hand. “I’m sorry you had to see this, Leah. And thank you for waiting to speak to me.”

She took his hand. Her scars scraped against his palm. “Thanks.”

Leah turned and, without another word, moved toward her CR-V. For a few beats, she simply sat behind the wheel. Finally, she slowly turned on the ignition and pulled away.

He knocked on the window to alert the officer. “Can you follow that CR-V home? She’s my witness and she’s rattled.”

The officer looked up. He wouldn’t dare argue, but there was defiance. “I’ll keep a close eye on her. Do you want me to stay outside her house for a while?”

“Maybe an hour. See if she goes back out.”

“Sure.”

The officer settled sunglasses over his eyes and, closing the window, followed Leah.

Alex stepped back, watching Leah drive carefully down the residential street toward the main road. The uniform stayed close behind.

“So what did you think of her?” Deke asked. His brother moved to his side as the two cars turned the corner.

Alex slid his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “She’s rattled as hell.”

“Understandable.”