Leah. Nervous around people. No damn wonder.
He had seen his share of Philip Latimers in the world. Fucked-up bullies who preyed on the vulnerable. Manipulation began with guilt, then harsh words, physical abuse and, all too often, murder.
He was sorry the guy had died in the car accident. It would have been a pleasure to deal with him personally.
He dialed dispatch and left word for the officer who’d responded to Leah’s attack to call back. He wanted to talk. An hour later, Alex’s phone rang.
“Officer Boyle,” Alex said. He reached across his desk and pulled over a legal-size pad for notes. “What can you tell me about the Leah Carson Latimer case? It was a domestic violence attack. Four years ago. The attacker was a Nashville cop. Philip Latimer.”
“Shit. That was a long time ago, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” He sighed. “The husband worked for the county as a patrol officer. I even crossed paths with him a few times. Seemed like a good guy.”
“When did the stalking start?”
“Right after they separated.”
“According to her complaints, it was unrelenting.”
“It was. And she filed for a restraining order against him. Of course we’d been notified, but when Latimer’s boss talked to him, he swore he’d back off. And he did for a few days.” Another sigh full of regrets. “We shouldn’t have believed him. She’d made such a good case with her journaling. Great eye for detail. Never had a victim keep such detailed records.” A chair squeaked in the background, as if he leaned back. “I heard Latimer died in a car accident.”
“That’s what his wife told me.”
“So why the call?”
“His name came up in another case. Apparently, he crossed paths with Deidre Jones a few years ago.”
“The detective who was stabbed?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Like I said, he’s dead.”
“Did Latimer have any friends or family that would have resented Leah Carson for filing charges?”
“There were some officers in his department who didn’t believe her. Latimer did a good job of painting her as hysterical and unstable. But when he stabbed her, well, there was little to argue. All his support was immediately withdrawn after that.”
“You sure he didn’t have any faithful followers?”
“None that hit my radar. I can ask around. Where’s Leah Latimer—I mean, Carson?”
“She’s back in Nashville. Works as a vet.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s doing well.”
A heavy silence lingered. “That’s good. She was a mess after the attack. Hell of a lot of rehab. But from what I heard, she was pretty determined to get on with her life.”
He thought about her running through the park in the early morning rain. One foot in front of the other. “Is there anyone who knew her then that I could talk to? Anyone who would have known her or Philip during that time?”
“You’ve got my files. I don’t remember names, but there was an adviser at school who went out of her way to help her.”
Alex rustled through the case file. “Dr. Susan Miller was her adviser. That her?”
“She’s the one. Give her a call.”
Alex hung up and dialed Dr. Miller’s cell. On the third ring, there was a breathless, “Hello.”
“Dr. Miller?”
“Yes.”
“This is Agent Alex Morgan with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.”
“It’s after ten, Agent Morgan.”
“I’m sorry for the late hour.” He explained the reason for the call.
“Leah Carson.” In the background, he could hear pots and pans rattling and water running. The water turned off and the pots stilled. “She was one of my favorite students. Smart. Great with animals. Is this about her ex-husband?”
“Yes.”
“Why’re you asking? God, he made her life awful. I hope he’s burning in hell.”
Fury had him sitting straighter. “What was she like before the troubles?”
“Lots of fun, outgoing. She had to delay leaving for Knoxville for a year so she took a couple of courses here. After the attack, she changed. Became very guarded and withdrawn. But you have to understand, she endured a brutal attack. Post-traumatic stress would be a normal reaction.”
“She still has scars. Keeps her journal.”
She released a weary sigh. “I went to see her in the hospital after the attack. The plastic surgeon did a great job stitching her up, but she still looked like Frankenstein.”
Alex shifted in his seat, trying to connect the woman he’d met a week ago with the woman who’d been so brutally attacked. He’d thought her odd initially, aloof and standoffish. Now, when he considered the attack, he had nothing but pure respect for her.
“During that last summer school session, after the attack, a boy in class who didn’t know her history jumped out and surprised her. She grabbed her textbook and hit him hard in the face. She would have hit him a second time but he fell to the floor.”
A smile flickered. “Did he file charges?”
“Not after I explained her history. But he walked one hell of a wide circle around her after that.”
“Any other incidents?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Thanks, Dr. Miller. I appreciate the insight.”
Alex hung up and immediately dialed a contact in South Carolina.
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday, January 19, 9 A.M.
He arrived at the humane society kennel just as it was opening. The mornings, he learned, could be chaotic there. Dogs being dropped off. Dogs needing feeding and walking. Deliveries. It was a busy time.
He pushed through the front door, wrinkling his nose at the smell of animal urine. Dogs weren’t his favorite. They were demanding emotionally and needed lots of care. Cats were more to his taste. They took care of themselves and didn’t need constant attention. His wife had always wanted a black Lab and had mentioned it when they’d been together. Of course with their busy lives, there hadn’t been time for a dog so he’d refused to allow one.
That had been a mistake. Maybe if he’d said yes to the dog, she’d have been happier, wouldn’t have been so discontented. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The lady behind the counter looked up through horn-rimmed glasses. A rubber band bound dark graying hair in a loose ponytail that allowed wisps of hair to frame a very round face.
“I’d like to look at the dogs,” he said. “My wife wants a black Lab.”
The woman rose, revealing a blousy peasant top worn over faded jeans that covered a very wide set of hips. He wasn’t a fan of overweight figures, and when his wife splurged on ice cream or chocolate, he was always quick to joke about her clothes getting too tight. He’d never teased her out of meanness. He’d only reminded her of what she ate because he knew she was aware of her figure and would have been upset if she’d put on a few pounds.
“You specifically want a black Lab?”
He smiled. “Well, that’s the kind of dog she always talked about. She likes to take walks, and I know Labs need a lot of exercise.” He extended his hand. “My name is Brian Lawrence.”
“Hey, Brian. My name is Betty. I’m the morning manager.”
He glanced at the clock. “I know you just opened. I bet you haven’t had your coffee yet.”
“I’ll delay the coffee for a dog.”
He rubbed his hands together. “So what do I need to do?”
“Let’s have a look at the dogs, and if you see one that might work in your family, we’ll talk about the paperwork.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He followed her down a tiled hallway. Green hospital walls were covered in a collection of photographs featuring all kinds of dogs and cats. A Lab shepherd mix. A dachshund mix. A tabby cat with a bent ear. A collection of white furry puppies. Happy and upbeat, they made him feel better about his decision to get a dog. He
imagined the look on his wife’s face when he surprised her with the dog.
Betty pushed through a swinging door and they entered a long room lined with cages on the right and left. Barking dogs and meowing cats filled the sterile room. The floor was tile, easily hosed down, and the walls were painted a mint green. The animal smell was strong.
“So you only want a Lab? Because we have some very cute animals here today. We don’t have a Lab, but you might be surprised by the friendly dogs we do have.”
He nearly refused, but then reminded himself that he needed to be more flexible. More open-minded. She would’ve loved any dog. Any animal. “Let’s see what you have.”
As they moved down the row of cages, Betty paused and spoke lovingly to the dogs. Most rushed to the front of the cage and licked her fingertips, eager for her attention. He smiled at the animals, but his smile wasn’t genuine. He found the dogs, especially the puppies, to be a bit annoying and dreaded the idea of coming home to one each day. Still, he kept smiling, even petted a couple of animals so Betty wouldn’t think him odd. He was supposed to be an animal lover.
Finally, at the end of the row, he spotted a medium-sized black dog. It didn’t rush to the front of the cage but didn’t cower in the corner either. It eyed him with an all-seeing gaze that made him stop. He sensed, as the creature looked at him, that it knew his secrets, knew he’d done bad things.
“You like this one?” Betty asked.
He tore his gaze from the dog. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Are you interested in adoption?”