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

“Ms. Carson called me this morning about you.”

“Yeah, she looked a little freaked out when I poked my head into surgery a few minutes ago.”

“When will she be out of surgery?”

“In about two hours.”

“I’ll be there in two hours, and I’d also like to talk to you.”

“Does it have to do with that guy I went out with last night? I know Leah thinks it’s her ex-husband, but that’s just crazy. His name was Philip, and this guy’s name was Brian Lawrence.”

“Brian Lawrence.” Shit. That was the guy who ordered flowers for Leah.

“Is something wrong,” she asked.

“I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He hung up. “Leah and Gail are at the clinic.”

“Then why do you look angry?”

“Brian Lawrence. Gail went out with the same guy who sent Leah flowers.”

Frowning, Deke reached for a notebook and pen. “Are you sure about that name?”

“Yes.”

Deke’s expression darkened as he rounded a corner and slowed for a yellow light. “Remember what Dad used to say about coincidence?”

“Yeah. No such thing.”

“You hear about those hands and feet we found by the river?”

Alex shook his head. “Vaguely. Didn’t pay too close attention.”

“That guy’s name was Brian Lawrence.”

“Gail,” Leah said. She hadn’t been out of surgery five seconds before she went looking for the receptionist. “What’s the deal with texting me that picture last night?”

Gail yawned, not seeming the least concerned. “I didn’t text you a picture.”

Leah got her phone and showed it to Gail. “You did.”

She frowned as she studied the picture. “I don’t remember sending this to you. He was the one who suggested taking the picture.”

“But that’s you. The text came from your phone.”

“Yeah, so? What’s the big deal? We had a few drinks after we got back to my place. Maybe he sent it.” She reached for a patient form and tucked it back in its file. “Again, what’s the big deal?”

Leah moved closer to the counter. “Who’s the guy?”

Gail looked up, her face flushed with irritation. “I’m sorry if the text bothered you, but why do you care who I spend the evening with?” She dropped her voice a notch. “It’s none of your business.”

Leah might be stepping over the line, but she couldn’t let this go. “He looks like my ex-husband.”

Gail cocked her head, as if she expected a punch line. “Really?”

“Yes, really!”

She dropped her gaze and straightened a stack of invoices. “We ran into each other at a diner. It went from there.”

Leah could feel the earth shift under her as she struggled to keep her voice calm. “If he’s the guy I think he is, he’s pure evil.”

Shaking her head, Gail held up a hand. “He was very sweet and nice. I haven’t had such a good time in forever.”

Leah glanced one last time at the picture and then shut off the phone.

Gail leaned back in her chair, regarding Leah with a weary gaze. “You really think this guy is your ex-husband, and he came back from the dead to take me out?”

“I think he faked his death. I think he’s been waiting to return.” Even as she spoke the words, she understood how crazy she sounded.

“To do what?”

“Wreck my life and everyone I know.”

“That sounds pretty weird, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care if it sounds weird or not.” Hands fisted, she clung to control. “We need to assume that Philip is alive and be careful.”

Gail folded her arms over her chest. “You sound insane.”

She dragged a shaking hand over her hair. “I know. I know. But you have to trust me on this. Philip is a very charming man. He’s attractive, and he knows the right things to say to make a woman feel good.”

“I think you’re losing it. I think the death of your friend Deidre has really upset you, and you’re seeing trouble when there is none. Maybe it’s like one of those flashbacks, the kind soldiers get when a car backfires. They hear a loud noise and think someone is shooting at them.”

“The ring on his hand. It’s exactly like Philip’s.”

Gail flattened her palms on the desk and leaned toward Leah. “It’s a ring, Leah. Give me a break. There must be thousands just like it.

“Philip’s grandfather gave him that ring.”

“You’re stretching things, Leah. I mean, I think your ex-husband did bad things to you, but, really, you think he’d fake his death and then come back just to freak you out?”

“Yes, I do. I’m starting to think Philip had something to do with Deidre’s death as well.”

Gail shook her head, her eyes darkening with concern. “It’s a big stretch, Leah. In fact, I’m kinda worried about you.”

“I know what I’m talking about.”

“Do you have proof?”

“My credit card was skimmed, someone tried to move my furniture out of my house, and remember the anniversary flowers?”

“When’s the last time you saw this guy?”

She rubbed her palms together. The uneven skin of the scars brushed against each other. “It’s been four years.”

“And he suddenly just shows up with a different name and starts killing and shagging your friends.”

If Philip could hear this conversation, he’d be laughing. He loved knowing he could upset her. “But it all feels like Philip.”

“Philip. And my date’s name wasn’t Philip. It was Brian.”

“Brian what?”

She hesitated. “Lawrence.”

“Brian Lawrence? That’s the guy who dropped off Charlie. I called him and left him a message.”

“He explained that. Said his mother died. He said he was coming by to settle up the bill with you for Charlie.”

Settle up. Shit. That bastard was sending her a message.

“Just because it feels like Philip doesn’t mean it is Philip. Maybe you need to take a break.” Gail flattened her lips. “Leah, maybe you have PTSD or something?”

“This isn’t PTSD

, Gail. I know what I’m talking about.”

Settle down.

“It’s not like I plan to date the guy. It was a fun night.”

Not really listening now, Leah glanced toward the couch at Charlie, who stared at her with sad eyes. The dog sensed her fear and agitation. Philip was coming for her, of that she was certain. “Could you keep Charlie tonight?”

“Why?”

“Like you said, my anniversary is tomorrow, and it would be better if she isn’t around me until I know for sure if this is Philip or not.”

Gail shook her head. “Nothing is going to happen.”

Unshed tears burned in her throat. She wasn’t crazy. She knew what she was talking about. “Will you take her?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.”

Deke and Alex drove to Brian Lawrence’s address, an older home with brick front steps and a wide front porch. The yard appeared to have been kept up. The hedges were trimmed, and the front sidewalk looked as if it had been patched in the last year.

Alex climbed the front steps and rang the bell, which echoed in the house. He rang again and then pounded. No answer.

“I’ll have a look around back,” Deke said. “Give me a second.”

“Thanks.”

Deke trotted down the stairs and around the house and returned minutes later. “It’s locked up tight. But there’s no sign of anyone. Looks like he’s got a construction project going. There’s quite a bit of lumber stacked in the backyard.”

“Let’s talk to the neighbors.”

They knocked on three different doors before they got an answer. The woman was older, with graying hair and a lined face.

“Ma’am, we’re with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and the Nashville Police Department. We’re looking for Brian Lawrence.”

She gathered the folds of her sweater at the nape of her neck in fragile, deeply veined hands. “I haven’t seen Brian in a few weeks.”

“Does he travel often?”

“Not this time of year. He owns a tow truck, and this is one of his busiest seasons. People are always getting stuck in the ice and snow. Dead batteries. I hate the cold, but he says he smells green when the temperature drops.”

“He drives a tow truck?”

“Well, the last couple of weeks it’s been his cousin driving the truck. He said Brian had to go home to visit their grandmother. She’s sick. And I think that’s just so sweet.”