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

“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.”

Anger strained under his even tone. “Have you dug into their alibis for Sunday night/early Monday morning?”

“As a matter of fact . . .” More papers shuffled. “Tyrone was in jail. Picked up in a prostitution sting. Sammy can prove he was in Memphis. And Ray is wearing an ankle bracelet. All have good alibis, but all could have hired someone.”

Alex considered the answer and rejected it. “This killing wasn’t done by a hired third party.”

“There’s very little evidence. This killer knew what he was doing. He was a pro.”

“Agreed. But if this was a hit, why not just shoot her and leave?”

“Violence sends a message.”

“It does. But this killing feels personal. The killer would have been looking into Deidre’s eyes as he’d stabbed.”

“Locking a guy away can feel really personal.”

He couldn’t dismiss the logic. “Which of the three has the biggest ego?”

“Ray Murphy. Guy thinks he’s invincible. Has never worried about jail time. Always has a smug look on his face, like he can beat the rap.”

“But you said if he killed Deidre the case would continue.”

“Provided her death didn’t intimidate the other witnesses. If he can kill a top cop, he can kill anyone.”

Alex conjured up the last minutes of Deidre’s life. “Deidre opens the back door; before she can react, the killer plunges a knife in her and she hits the floor. Rolls onto her back. He keeps stabbing as she watches.”

“But he keeps stabbing.”

“Because he’s pissed or trying to send a message.”

“I think this killer wasn’t angry as much as sending a message.”

“To the other witnesses?”

He came to a stop at a stop sign, looked both ways, and turned left. “I don’t know.”

Another voice hummed over the line, as if someone had entered Deke’s office. After a hesitation, a door closed.

“Why not take the listening device after he killed her?”

“He had to be covered in blood even if he were wearing a Tyvek suit. It takes time to strip off the suit and cross into the living room. And if she screamed, he’d have been worried that someone called the cops. Leave the untraceable listening device and get out of there.”

“It still could be Ray. He’s lying low and armed to the teeth with lawyers. Getting through to him isn’t going to be easy.”

“Keep working on it. I want to find out if there were any glitches in Ray’s monitoring device. I’m on my way to David’s office. Time he and I had a chat.”

“You think he has the stones to kill Deidre?”

“Everyone has the potential. Just depends on whether you dial up the right combination.”

“Right.”

Alex pulled into the parking lot of a tall glass building. He got out, showed his badge to reception, and, within minutes, was in David Westbrook’s office. He worked for a law firm service that specialized in corporate matters such as insurance fraud and corporate espionage.

Dressed in his suit, David looked quite different from when he ran in the morning. On the track, each runner was judged by athletic skill. But elsewhere, the pecking order shifted to money. David rose and came around the side of his desk. “Agent Morgan, correct?”

Alex extended his hand. “That’s right. I’m here to talk to you about Deidre Jones.”

The handsome, smooth features lost their luster. “We’re all still stunned.”

“Was there anyone bothering her?” Alex asked.

“I never saw anyone creepy hanging around the track. I know her ex wasn’t thrilled with her. I think he keyed her car. I asked her about it, but she wouldn’t say. I think she was kind of embarrassed.”

Alex didn’t like David. The guy was a salesman; he sold whatever bill of goods suited him. Deidre was an adult and made her own choices, but David was the kind of guy who would have smelled her weakness and played on it. “You two were dating.”

“For about a month. Nothing serious. We were just having fun. But I liked her. I liked her a lot.”

“You two spend much time together?”

“We hooked up a few times a week. Her job kept her busy. Not unusual for her to cancel on me.” He shook his head. “Was this related to her job?”

Alex purposefully softened his expression with what he assumed looked like a sad smile. An icy stare didn’

t foster trust in a witness. “That’s one of the theories.”

David leaned in. “Who found her?”

“A woman from your running group,” he said. “Leah Carson.”

“Leah? What was she doing at Deidre’s?”

“Trying to find out why she missed the morning run.”

David ran long fingers through his hair. “God.”

Alex studied him closely. “Did Deidre ever mention anything that made you think there was trouble in her life? Was she worried? Did she ever think anyone was following her?”

“No. No. She never wanted to talk about much when we were together. She liked a good laugh. And she liked the bedroom. Beyond that, we rarely had much to say.” He paused a moment. “That ex of hers might have been trouble.”

“You said she wasn’t worried about him.”

“She said she could handle him.” He slid his hand into his pocket. “Do you think it was him?”

Alex glanced past David to a credenza covered with photographs. One stood out. David standing with a pretty blonde. “Who’s that?”

David drew in a breath. “My wife.”

“Your wife? She know about Deidre?”

David shifted in his chair, tugged on the cuffs of his hand-tailored shirt. “We’re separated right now, but we’re trying to work things out.”

“What’s her name?”

“Alicia.” David glanced at Alex and very quickly added, “But she wouldn’t hurt anyone. She’s sweet. Maybe too sweet. But I love her. And besides, she’s been in New York the last month, visiting family. There’s no need to talk to her.”

“Not now.” Alex held his ground. “What do you know about Leah Carson?”

“Leah? She’s about the worst runner there is. I was shocked when Deidre invited her to the group. Why ask about her?”

“She and Deidre were friends.”