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

Color flushed her cheeks as she raised her gaze to his. “Might as well see just how crazy I am.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

His words did little to ease the tension banding her chest. “This kind of journaling is crazy.”

“Not necessarily.” A smile quirked his lips. “I appreciate attention to detail.”

That jostled a laugh. “I take it to a whole new level.”

“What happened?”

Slowing her breathing calmed her nerves just enough. “Seven years ago, I met a man while I was in college. My father had just died and . . . well, when Philip came into my life, he felt like the steadying influence I was craving.” Her throat tightened. “My dad and I were close, and when I lost him . . . it was hard.”

Alex’s expression softened with empathy. However, he didn’t say a word.

“We got closer and closer, and he just kind of took over my life. He asked me to marry him. I shouldn’t have said yes. I should have broken it off then, but I was afraid of being alone. My mother was opposed to it, but I thought I knew what I wanted. We got married in a simple ceremony a few days later. It never felt okay. He had a way of making me feel as if I failed him. When I was accepted in vet school, I knew I’d have to move to Knoxville, and I was glad for the break from him. I imagined I’d commute home on the weekends. Philip hated the idea. I didn’t really have the money for the first year, so I had to defer my entrance. He was thrilled. I wasn’t. I worked as many hours as I could to save for school, and the closer I got to leaving, the meaner he got.”

“How much worse did it get?”

“A lot worse. He started hitting me.” Her belly twisted with shame and guilt. “And I took it for a while because he’d be so sorry afterward.” She shook her head. “My story is a million years old and has been replayed countless times.” She smoothed her hand over the journal. “I finally left and got my own apartment. That’s when he started following me. Everywhere I was, so was he. I couldn’t do anything without Philip watching.

“I filled out a restraining order, which he never honored at all. The cops told me to keep a record of what he was doing so they could consider stalking charges. That’s when I started keeping the journal.”

“How many pages are in there?”

A bitter smile twisted her lips. “I’ve never been able to stop journaling.”

“How many?”

“Hundreds.”

He absorbed the detail with no judgment. “And Latimer fled Nashville after your attack and died just weeks later.”

“Yeah, very convenient. He was able to escape my apartment through the window and missed the cops by seconds.” She unfurled her hand to reveal the scars. “You were right to know these were defensive wounds.”

Alex tipped his head back, seeming to struggle with emotions foreign to him.

“He broke into my apartment and stabbed me. The cops arrived just in time. He ran, thinking I would die.”

“But you hung in there.”

“The emergency room doctors said if it had been another five minutes I would have died.”

His jaw tightened and a muscle pulsed in his cheek. “And you haven’t had any sign that he’s alive?”

“Nothing.”

He traced a long finger over a black journal. “Why have you kept the journal?”

“PTSD, I think. It’s my way of coping. If I can look at the day’s events, or even events from weeks or months back, and see no patterns of trouble, I feel okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“It never occurred to me that Philip might be alive, or that Deidre knew Philip. It never occurred to me that my past might be linked to her death.”

He drummed his fingertips on the table. “I still have no solid link between Deidre and Philip. They worked together, yes, but I can’t prove they ever communicated.”

“How did she land on your radar?”

“Money went missing from evidence in the Nashville Police Department. My brother asked me to look into it. Her name popped up almost immediately. And then we found one of Deidre’s old business cards near the body of a murdered man.”

“Who was killed?”

“We still haven’t identified him. The killer chopped off his hands, feet, and head and set fire to the body.”

She grimaced.

“My plan was to interview Deidre about the body, but she died.” He leaned back in his chair. “There was a listening device in her town house. We’re not sure who put it there.”

“Why aren’t you sure?”

“The purchase was charged to Deidre’s credit card.”

“Why would she want a listening device?”

“I don’t know.” He drummed his fingers on the table again. “When did you notice things were off?”

“A month ago, I had that nightmare. I dreamt someone was in my house and I woke up screaming. That’s when my neighbors called the cops.”

“I saw the report.”

“A false alarm.” She held out a trembling hand. “I never spotted Philip or anyone who resembled him, but I’ve had a sense I was being watched. Of course that’s what Philip wants. He wants me afraid all the time. He can control me without trying.”

“He’s not in control.”

“I wish I could believe that. But I know how life can spin out of control fast, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Leah, I’ve got this. I’m going to find him.”

“How? If he’s still alive, he’s been avoiding arrest for four years. He’s clever.”

Unspoken confidence radiated from him. “That’s before I got involved. I’ll find him.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Not easy, but he’ll slip up.”

“How?”

“I’ll make some calls, see if he’s popped up on any databases in the last few years. Is there anyone you could stay with in Nashville?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m on my own here. But . . .” She closed her eyes, gathering her worries. “I can stay at my house alone. I changed the locks, and I got a dog.”

“A dog?”

“She’s a puppy. Not scary, but she makes a lot of noise.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

She smiled. “Very.”

“Let me look into this, Leah. I’ll put the pieces together. One way or the other, I’ll find him.”

She smoothed her hands over the journal. “Do you want me to leave this with you?”

“Yes. Let me read through it. Fresh eyes can make all the difference.”

“Sure.” She rose. “Thanks.”

When Leah arrived home after her meeting with Alex, her nerves were dancing on edge. She took Charlie for a long

walk, hoping to calm herself. The afternoon had warmed under a bright sun, but the tension straining her nerves never quite loosened. She found herself searching for Philip, looking behind trees and bushes, even into the open windows of her neighbors’ town houses. Each time a car door closed, she flinched. Each time a curtain fluttered, she tensed. Each time she heard footsteps, she expected to see Philip.

Behind the locked doors of her town house, the fear coiled tighter, and she found it impossible to relax. In the kitchen she made a sandwich with chips, and while Charlie chewed her bone, she watched a movie on television. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being watched. She felt like a caged animal.

She finished her sandwich, rinsed the plate, and put it in the dishwasher. She leaned against the counter, staring out into the living room. The hair on the back of her neck tingled, and she had the sudden overwhelming sense that someone was listening to her. She couldn’t say how she knew, only that she did.

She hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary when she’d cleaned, but she knew he was listening. With no motivation other than her paranoia, she began searching for something that might prove she wasn’t going crazy.

She turned over the coffee table and skimmed her hand over the bottom. She pulled the cushions off the chairs. She upended her couch and searched the underside. All the while, Charlie sat happily, chewing on her bone as if it were perfectly normal for her owner to be searching for listening devices. “You’ve landed with a real winner, Charlie.”

The dog glanced up when she heard her name and wagged her tail before returning to the chew toy.

After fifteen minutes of searching, Leah sat on the floor, certain she wasn’t losing her mind. Philip had left something here. She knew it. As she leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifted to the heating vent by the baseboard. Curious, she retrieved a screwdriver from her kitchen junk drawer and squatted by the vent. She undid the screws, removed the vent cover, and flipped it over, inspecting it carefully for anything that didn’t seem to fit. Nothing. She looked in the vent. Nothing.

She replaced the vent cover and moved to the next one in the room. Again nothing. Charlie, thinking she was on the floor playing a game now, trotted over to her and licked her face. She smiled, rubbing the dog’s head.