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

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?”