“I think her name is Deidre.”
“That’s right. Are you aware that she was killed yesterday?”
A barking pug rushed the front door, forcing her to pick the animal up. “Let me put him in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
She returned to the sound of the dog still yapping. “You said Deidre was dead?”
“Yes, ma’am. She was killed in her town house.”
“My God. Do you know who did it?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine. Has she had any visitors lately that would have caught your attention?”
“I work long hours, and I think she did as well. We didn’t see each other a lot and she’s only lived here a couple of weeks. I do remember a tall dark guy ringing her bell a couple of weeks ago, right after she moved into her place. He was on her porch when I came home. He said his name was Philip.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t know. He looked pretty frustrated. Said she had promised to be there. I noticed he waited in his car for at least an hour before he drove off.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. I honestly forgot about it until this moment.”
“Anyone else?”
“I know she’s dating a guy. Blond. David somebody.”
He showed her a picture of David from the running group. “This him?”
“Yeah. That’s him. Nice guy. Very charming. I came home one night and he was standing on her doorstep with flowers.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I told him she often worked late. He said he knew but was hoping to catch up with her. Knew she’d worked a long day and wanted to cheer her up. So sweet.”
“What did he do?”
“Left the flowers on her porch.”
“Do you remember when she got home?”
“A couple of hours later. I never got to ask her about him.”
Alex handed his card to the neighbor. “If you think of more, you’ll call.”
She glanced at the card. “Yeah, sure.”
The next neighbor was a mother with three bustling teenage boys who were fighting over a remote control. She was a petite woman with short, mousy-brown hair and large eyes that looked a bit harried. She hadn’t met Deidre and hadn’t noticed anyone coming or going. As she spoke, a vase crashed to the floor and the boys went silent. She looked at Alex, asking flatly if he’d arrest all three boys.
He showed her a picture of Deidre.
“Oh, yeah, the lady with the gun. My thirteen-year-old noticed her gun holster one day. He couldn’t stop talking about it. She was dressed in a suit, white shirt, and I figured she was law enforcement. I asked around and found out she was Nashville PD.”
The neighbor across from Deidre’s town house was a man in his midfifties with short-cropped hair and a few gold earrings in his left ear. His T-shirt had a ragged, stonewashed look, but the logo suggested he’d paid up for it. Stonewashed jeans and cowboy boots fit the look of someone wanting to make it in the country music world. Nashville was full of wannabes.
Alex showed him Deidre’s picture. The guy gave it a glancing look. “Don’t know her.”
“Have another look.”
He dropped his gaze. “I’ve never met her.”
“She lives across from you.”
“Okay.”
“You see any detail that caught your attention at her place?”
“No, not really. She was playing loud music a couple of weeks ago. Terrible stuff. This hard rock stuff. I was on my way over to complain, but it stopped before I got to her back door so I let it go.”
“No other issues with her?”
“No.”
“Visitors?”
He frowned. “There was a guy a week or so ago. Standing on the sidewalk, staring.”
“You get a good look?”
“Wore a skullcap, sunglasses, and a heavy coat. I asked if I could help and he said no.”
“You ask for a name?”
“I think it was Phil or Philip. No last name.”
Alex filed the name, thanked the man, and left Deidre’s town house with little more than fragments. He’d skimmed the surface of her recent case files and hadn’t found a Philip. Maybe it was time to dig deeper into her past.
Chapter Nine
Monday, January 16, 7 P.M.
Leah spent the entire afternoon cleaning her house, a ritual to burn energy so sharp her skin felt tight enough to split. By the time she’d finished scouring and scrubbing, her place smelled of pine cleaner and bleach. The floors were vacuumed, the sheets on the bed changed, and the bathrooms glistened. As she put away the last of her cleaning supplies, she moved to the center of her living room and stood, her arms folded. There was no more cleaning to be done. Nothing was out of place or not sparkling. And she wasn’t working tomorrow. Yet the energy still pumped in her veins.
Maybe she could read a book or rent a movie? She considered a trip to the mall; the idea of wandering from shop to shop might pass the time, but it wouldn’t chase away memories of finding Deidre dead.
She shoved out a breath as she sat down and sagged into the overstuffed couch. She reached for the neat stack of magazines on the coffee table and restacked them, lining them up carefully with the edge of the table.
Jesus, Deidre. Who would do that to you?
As she stared at the neat stack, she remembered Philip was a real stickler for a clean house. He liked order, though not enough to do it himself. He liked her to keep their apartment spotless. He always complimented her when she cleaned.
When they’d first married, she’d wanted to please him and so she’d made the effort to clean their apartment often. When her mother had come to visit, she’d joked that she didn’t realize Leah knew how to turn on a vacuum, let alone push one. They’d all had a good laugh at her expense, but Leah remembered feeling pride. She’d considered herself grown-up, and taking care of her grown-up house had felt right.
And then her year of working in the administrative offices of the engineering firm had come to an end and it was time to begin veterinary school. They’d talked about her moving to Knoxville and commuting back when she could, but as the date grew closer, Philip had gotten edgier. He’d become more obsessed with a clean house. Then there’d been snide comments, jokes, jabs and, finally, insults.
Leah had done her best to keep up but found her desire to be around the apartment and Philip dwindling. She could clearly remember the day she’d decided to end her marriage. She’d been up late working on homework for a science class, knowing the extra credit would help her in the fall. She’d overslept that morning and realized she was late for work.
Philip had tried to keep her in bed. “Baby, you still have time.”
She pushed his hands away, impatient and annoyed. “I can’t believe I slept so late. I set two alarms.”
He yawned and laid back on the pillow, not the least bit concerned about her tardiness.
She’d have called him on his callousness if she’d had the time, but she was so focused on pulling on her slacks and sweatshirt and scraping her hair back into a ponytail that she’d swallowed her anger. She’d quickly eaten a bowl of cereal, not thinking about anything other than running to class, left the bowl in the sink, and ran out the door.
Hours later, she’d been pleased with herself when she arrived
home. Philip had been waiting for her. He’d been standing by the sink, where the bowl sat filled with warm milk and bits of cereal. “I think you forgot something this morning.”
She took off her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. Carefully, she lowered her backpack to the floor as she studied his calm, almost smiling face. “Sorry? What would I have forgotten?”
“The bowl in the kitchen sink.” He sounded almost helpful.
“What bowl?” This morning felt like a lifetime ago.
His smile faltered. “You need to clean it up.”
Defiance sparked hot in her gut as she stared at him. “I’ll get to it.”
“Now.”
The heat ignited. “No.”
Philip crossed the room in three quick strides and, before she could react, slapped her hard across the face. She dropped to her knees, her head spinning and her jaw throbbing. Shock, humiliation, and anger collided. She’d never been hit like that. Never. For an instant, she questioned what she’d said to him. Had she somehow made him hit her?
She didn’t look up at him as she made her way to her feet. When she did meet his gaze, she didn’t see anger but sadness. Tears glistened in his eyes.
“I hate hurting you,” he said.
Apart of her wanted him to embrace her, tell her it would be all right. Just tell me we’re fine. But another part yelled for her to run. Get out of there! Grab your bag and go!
She raised her hand to her jaw, which had already swollen.
“Let me get you some ice,” Philip offered. He turned quickly and vanished into the kitchen. “We won’t worry about the bowl for now.”
The bowl. They were back to the bowl?
Now Leah glanced around at her glistening town house. Furious, she reached down and swiped her hand across the coffee table, sending the magazines splaying to the floor.
She would not stay here.
She would not be afraid.
Deidre’s death wasn’t linked to her past. Philip was dead. Leah had talked at length with the Detective Roseanne Jeffers in South Carolina, who returned his belongings to her. When they arrived, she held Philip’s blackened family ring in her hand, finally accepting he was dead before she gave the entire box to his grandmother.