Текст книги "I'll Never Let You Go"

Автор книги: Mary Burton

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Twenty

Monday, January 23, 6 A.M.

Leah packed the journal from the last six months into a brown paper bag. She wasn’t sure if Alex would be at the running group this morning, but she needed to speak to him and show him what she was up against. She needed him to really understand what kind of monster he was fighting.

She worried about what to do with Charlie, but after an early morning walk, she decided the dog would be safer in the crate she’d put together in the living room. She lined the crate with one of her blankets and put a chew toy inside before scooting the dog inside.

To Leah’s relief, Charlie settled down in her crate and began to chew on her toy. She left and made the fifteen-minute trip to the park where the group was meeting today. She was glad to see the collection of cars that lined the parking spaces. However, a wave of disappointment washed over her when she didn’t see Alex’s SUV. You would pick today not to show, Agent Morgan. Now I’ll have to hunt you down.

She grabbed her knit hat, pulled it over her ears, and got out of her car. Most mornings she hated these first few minutes. Hated the cold. Hated the tension in her muscles. Today she welcomed it all.

She stretched as the other runners got out of their cars and made their way to the open field that led to the woodland path. She checked her watch, set her timer, and glanced around the field. No place for anyone to hide. Good.

As she was about to start her run, the black SUV pulled up next to her car. About time, Morgan.

Feeling the weight on her shoulders ease again, she began to run slowly. The other runners passed her easily, but she didn’t mind. After a poor night of sleep, it felt good to move, to breathe full, deep breaths.

The steady thud of footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn’t glance back, knowing it was Alex. He came up beside her. She was already breathing hard. He looked almost bored with the pace.

“You doing okay today?”

“I’m hanging in there. I had the locks on my house changed.”

“Smart. You might think about an alarm system.”

“It’s crossed my mind.” More money. More expense. The vacation she’d considered taking in the fall was slowly moving out of financial reach.

“I want to talk to you after practice.”

“Good.” He matched her pace.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” The words puffed out of her as she struggled to talk and run at the same time.

“I’m happy to take it easy today.” He had barely broken a sweat.

“Don’t patronize me, Alex. Run.”

“You’re willing to go the route alone.”

“I’ll be fine. Anniversary isn’t for two more days.” Bravado aside, she was afraid, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin the lives of the people around her.

He nodded, as if accepting she needed to do this. “I’ll be waiting at your car.”

Breathless, she held up a thumb and watched as he easily picked up his pace, his long legs eating up the space as he overtook the other runners. She soon lost sight of him and the others as they dashed down the path.

Workouts could be hard because the exertion chased away the day’s thoughts and made room for memories.

Together always, Leah, Philip whispered against her ear.

Leah missed a step and nearly stumbled as she rounded the last corner. “Get out of my head,” she whispered.

She increased her pace, pushing her muscles and her lungs, which stung from the cold, beyond what she’d managed since she started the group. The trees thickened around her, and once or twice she imagined the snap of a twig and the rustle of branches. Her breathing grew more rapid, but she kept running, fisting fingernails into the scars on her palm.

When she finished, she checked her time and realized it was her fastest to date. The small victory offered a measure of satisfaction.

Alex waited by her car, two water bottles in his hand. He handed her one as she approached. “Great run. Where’re the demons that are chasing you?”

She accepted the water. “It’s the same every day, only today they were nipping at my heels. Did you find out anything from the florist? Get a name?”

“Ever heard of Brian Lawrence?”

“No.”

“We’re tracking him down. The man who bought the flowers used that name.”

“Philip isn’t going to announce himself until he’s ready.”

“We need to talk about what happened to you.”

“It’s more than a five-minute conversation.” She sipped her water. “I brought my journal from the last six months. It chronicles anything out of the ordinary.”

“Really?”

“I’m very detailed. And I do see now that I’ve been obsessed. I know I appear crazy.”

He studied her. “I’ll swing by your town house in a couple of hours and you can show me the journal.”

“Let’s meet at a neutral place. A coffee shop. Somewhere public. No listening devices.”

“You think your house is bugged?”

“I’ve searched it, haven’t found anything, but there are so many hiding places. Until this is over, I’m assuming it is.” She ran a hand over her head. “I know, sounds crazy.”

His frown deepened as he thought about the device in Deidre’s house. “The TBI offices are safe.”

“Okay.”

“Ten o’clock?”

She twisted off the top of the water bottle and then refastened it. “Sure.”

In her car, she turned on the heat, put the water bottle in the drink holder, and drove home. The closer she got, the tenser she became. Until yesterday, it had been a sanctuary. A place away from work and her past. All her own. But yesterday, someone had violated that space. She’d changed the locks, but it was no longer a sanctuary.

Inside the front door, Charlie barked in her crate, jumping up and down. Smiling, Leah let the dog out, fastened her leash, and walked her around the neighborhood. Though she did her best to focus only on the dog and the crisp sky, her gaze roamed constantly for anything out of the ordinary. Cars. People. Nothing jumped out at her, but her nerves remained tied in knots.

Once Charlie had worked out her energy, Leah returned home to shower and dressed for her meeting with Alex. She took time with her hair and makeup, just as she had when things had been so bad with Philip. She’d always thought if she looked pulled together, maybe she could pretend everything would be fine.

Charlie got another walk before she crated her and gave her a chew toy. The dog settled onto her blanket, wagging her tail as Leah promised to be back soon.

The drive to the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation took twenty minutes. The closer she got, the tighter her nerves twisted. What had happened yesterday couldn’t be passed off as a fluke or forgetfulness. Philip was stalking her.

The journal in hand, she hurried through the cold toward the large front doors. Inside, a rush of warm air greeted her as she moved toward the security station. She leaned toward an intercom centered on the glass partition separating her from the guard. “I’m Leah Carson. I’m here to see Agent Alex Morgan.”

An older man with a receding hairline and large reading glasses studied her for a beat. “He’s expecting you?”

“Yes.”

With a nod, the guard picked up his phone, dialed, and announced her before hanging up. “He’ll be right here.”

“Thanks.”

She turned away, wishing like hell she didn’t have to do this. One stupid mistake in her life and it seemed fate still expected her to pay more. “When is it going to be enough?”

“Excuse me?”

She glanced at the guard, realizing she’d spoken aloud. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Minutes later, a side door opened and Alex appeared. As always, he wore a dark suit, a white shirt, and a red tie, and his shoes were polished. Always buttoned down, always on guard. If she felt more comfortable with him, she’d joke about being so pulled together. During his runs, he barely seemed to sweat, and if this had been a different time or place, she’d have joked about his lack of sweat glands.

“Right on time.” His gaze flickered over her briefly, taking inventory. A flicker of appreciation warmed his gaze.

“No sense delaying the inevitable.”

“You sound like you’re heading to a firing squad.”

“It feels like it.”

The glint in his gaze softened just a little. “Come on up to my office.” He reached for her journal. “Would you like me to carry it?”

“No, I have it. I’ve made it this far; I can make it the rest of the way.” She’d been shouldering this burden for over four years, and now releasing it would almost feel awkward. How would she live her life if she weren’t worrying?

In the elevator, she was aware of the smallness of the space. When the doors opened, she followed him down a carpeted hallway. Conversations buzzed behind cubicle walls as the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

Alex opened the door to a conference room and flipped on the lights. “Can I get you coffee?”

She would have loved a cup but feared, given her nerves, she’d spill it. “No. No, I’m fine.”

He pulled out a chair for her at the long oak table and watched as she carefully placed her journal on it. She shrugged off her coat, laid it on the chair beside her, and took a seat.

Alex pulled out a chair across from her, adjusted his tie, and waited.

She put a hand on the thick journal. “I told you I kept a journal.”

He arched a brow. “That’s the journal?”

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.

After a half hour of searching and beginning to feel part fool and part lunatic, she sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. “Maybe I am losing my mind.”

As she leaned forward to rise, her gaze caught sight of something attached to the underside of the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. It was small, barely larger than a dime. She grabbed a chair, positioned it under the light, and climbed up. Her fingertips skimmed the warm glass until it slid over a small metal object. Heart racing, she plucked the metal disc from the underside.

She held it up to the light, triumph racing through her. It appeared to be a listening device.

For several long seconds, she stared at it, the sound of her heartbeat thudding hard in her ears. Philip. You bastard. Slowly, she closed her fingers over the device.

Four years ago, she’d have screamed into the device, telling Philip she knew he was listening! She’d have battled hysteria. Cried. And then she would have smashed the device before calling the cops. But not today. Today she was smarter. Afraid, yes, but wiser.

Carefully, she reattached the listening piece to the underside of the light fixture and smiled. Now it was a matter of setting the trap.

Chapter Twenty-One

Monday, January 23, 3 P.M.

Deke arrived at the forensics lab office after three. He showed his badge at the front desk and then swiped his access card, allowing him behind the security doors. He found Georgia in the lab, staring into a microscope. Her red hair was twisted into a topknot and a deep frown furrowed her brow.

“From the day Mom and Dad first brought you home, you were frowning,” he said.

She glanced up, her green eyes dark with curiosity. “I had three older brothers waiting for me and, genius baby that I was, I knew that meant trouble.”

He chuckled. “You were right. It’s a wonder Mom didn’t equip you with your own sidearm.”

“Believe me, I asked more than a few times for a handgun, but she said it wasn’t a good idea for a five-year-old to be packing.”

“Didn’t you ask Santa for a pistol one year?”

She laughed. “No one would give me one, so I went to the man himself.”

He rubbed his hand over his head. “Damn, how many little girls ask Santa for a handgun?”

“I think I requested a nine-millimeter Beretta like Dad’s.”

“Jesus. It’s a wonder Santa didn’t call child protective services.”

“Santa was an off-duty cop making an extra buck. He knew Dad had a houseful of hellions.”

“Ah, well.” He leaned against the side of the desk. “I understand you have an identification on my victim.”

She pushed away from the microscope and shuffled through a stack of files until she found the right one. “The one with parts missing?”

“That would be the one.”

“I do.” She opened a manila folder and read her scrawled notes. “You read Dr. Heller’s report. The victim was dismembered postmortem.”

“I did.”

“I’m also cross-checking DNA with the John Doe you found in the warehouse. Remember the one without hands, feet, and a head?”

“Stands to reason the two might be one and the same victim.”

“We’ll see. But I know who owned the hands and feet because I pulled a good clean print from the index finger of the right hand. We can thank the cold weather for that.”

Deke reached for his phone to text the findings to Alex. If the victims were one and the same, this case might break. “That’s about the only reason to like winter.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see summer again?”

“I’ll remind you of that when it’s July and we’re sweating buckets at a crime scene.”

Smiling, she glanced at her notes. “I ran the victim’s prints through AFIS and got a hit. Lucky for us, he was in the military. Served eight years in the army. His name was Brian Lawrence.”

The name meant nothing to Deke, but it would give him a possible address, job, and known associates. He texted the update to Alex. “So much for Alex’s theory that our guy was Philip Latimer.”

“The guy by the river isn’t Latimer. I have no conclusive information on the warehouse victim.”

“Guy gets out of the military with honors and a year later ends up in pieces on the banks of the Cumberland River.”

Deke had learned long ago not to become too closely attached to his victims. Emotions like anger, revenge, and guilt could be a hell of a motivator, but they could turn out to be your worst enemy. “Crossed the path of the wrong guy.”

Deke’s text on his mind, Alex left work after six intending to drive to Leah’s as soon as he swung by his house and got a bite to eat. They had a lot to discuss, but he hadn’t eaten in fifteen hours and he was starving. He would be at Leah’s by eight.

It was getting dark when he arrived home. The brick colonial was located at the end of a cul-de-sac that backed up to woods. He’d chosen a small rural community north of Nashville to build. Though he’d been in the house two years, he’d furnished only a couple of rooms, and those were sparsely done at best. Georgia had said it needed a woman’s touch and had offered. The idea of her pulling out paint cans and adding color to perfectly fine antique white walls made him smile. The house might not have much, but it was simple and quiet. Safe haven.

He pulled into the long gravel drive and shut off the engine. Out of the car, he fished for his house key on the ring as gravel crunched under the beat of rapid footsteps. Instantly, he tensed, twisted, and reached for his gun, but before he could free it, something hard hit him across the rib cage. He woofed out a breath of agony, rolled to the ground, and scrambled for his gun. He raised it, not even sure what was coming after him, only knowing he was going to kill whatever it was.

He glimpsed a hooded figure wearing a mask. The attacker gripped a baseball bat but, seeing the raised gun, hurled it at Alex and ran. The bat swished by his head, missing him by inches before it clanged and rattled on the pavement.

When he looked, his attacker had vanished.

“Motherfucker,” he muttered as he tried to sit up. Pain shot through his midsection. On the heels of the slicing pain, memories of falling off Miller’s Falls washed over him. “Damn it.” Anger juiced him enough for him to sit up and reach for his cell. He called Deke.

“Detective Morgan.”

“It’s Alex.” He took a breath and tried to step back from the pain. “I just got attacked in front of my house.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. And I’m calling the local police.”

“Right.” Alex struggled for breath as he held his gun close and tried to push himself to his feet. However, he quickly discovered the pain in his side robbed him of breath and the will to move. Gritting his teeth, he angled his back toward his car. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but a chill had settled deep in his bones when, in the distance, sirens finally wailed.

The rescue squad and a sheriff’s car pulled up by his car, and when they got out, he shouted, “I’m here.”

A paramedic, a young woman with long, brown hair twisted into a knot, ran around and knelt beside him. “What happened?”

Breathing hurt. “I was hit with a bat. The guy threw it at me, so it’s around here somewhere. It might have his prints on it.”

She didn’t bother a glance toward the bat. Her gaze remained on Alex. “Where did he hit you?”

Alex winced, nodded toward the right side of his ribs.

The sheriff’s deputy hovered behind the paramedic. “Did you get a good look at the guy?”

“No. Didn’t see him coming.”

“Can you tell me anything?”

Alex shook his head. “No.”

The paramedic pulled on rubber gloves and gently touched his side. He groaned and gripped his gun tighter.

When the paramedic spotted the gun, she sat back. “Can you give that to me or the sheriff?”

“I’m TBI, and I’m keeping it until my brother arrives.”

“Badge?” the deputy asked.

“Right breast pocket.” He gritted his teeth as pain bolted through him like lightning. “Get it and look for yourself.”

The paramedic pulled the badge and handed it to the deputy. “Agent Morgan.”

“That’s right.” Strained, tight words hissed through clenched teeth.

The deputy shifted his stance. “I know you.”

Pain cut. “And you hate my guts? Heard it all before.”

“Not at all. I admire the work. Bad is bad.”

Alex looked up, not sure if the guy was joking, and heard the screech of tires and, seconds later, saw Deke approach, his hand on his gun. He moved with quick, even strides, and his normally solemn expression darkened to murderous.

The paramedic flexed gloved fingers. “That your brother?”

Alex held tight to his gun, as if he expected the paramedic to reach for it. “That’s right.”

The paramedic sat back on her haunches, resting gloved hands on her thighs. “Give him your gun.”

Deke showed his badge to the deputy and squatted beside Alex. “What the hell happened?”

He closed his eyes and eased his grip on control. Pain washed over him. “I was hit with a bat. It’s around here somewhere.”

“I can’t treat him while he’s holding a gun,” the paramedic said.

Alex’s fingers loosened their grip on the gun’s handle and Deke gently took it from Alex. “I got your back, Alex. I’ll find the bat. Let the paramedic do her job.”

His head dropped back against the car. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.”

Deke’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “And don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it, my little piñata.”

“You know what Wednesday is?”

“Yes.”

“Our anniversary.” Philip’s hand moved up and down Leah’s lower leg. The gentle touch did not mask the restrained power in his fingertips. Those fingertips, those hands, could wield pleasure as well as pain. How many times had he hurt her with those hands?

“We aren’t married anymore, Philip. You’re dead.”

His hand paused on her knee. “But I’m not dead. I’m right here. I’ve always been close, watching.”

“You are dead. You are part of my past, not my present.”

“Wrong, Leah. Dead wrong.”

Tears welled in her eyes. This close, she could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave and feel the heat of his body. This close, she remembered he stood tall at six foot three and had a muscular frame born of genetics and endless workouts. He liked knowing he could bench press three hundred pounds, and that his fist packed an iron wallop.

This close, she felt small, vulnerable. “No, we’re not married.”

Like a jackal springing on prey, he pounced, covering her body. Those long, strong fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. “Say we’re married. Say it!”

The breath caught in her throat and quickly grew stale in her lungs. Her heart beat faster. Her skin tingled. Her vision blurred. She shook her head no.

Leah jolted awake and glanced around sightlessly. Seconds ticked by. Her heart pulsed, rapid and hard. And then, finally, she realized she was in her living room, on the couch. Dragging a trembling hand through her hair, she looked at the couch and the remote control in her hand. A sitcom from the eighties was showing on the television. She glanced around the room, jumping to her feet, half-expecting to see Philip.

Charlie glanced up at her, her expression worried. The dog had burrowed under a blanket on the couch and had curled into a tight ball.

As the dregs of the dream faded, she struggled to shake off the fear that gripped and tightened her airway.

She glanced at the clock and realized it was after eleven. She checked her phone, fearing she’d missed a call from Alex. No messages. Whatever he’d said he was going to do, he wasn’t coming by here tonight.

She shut off the television and rose, rolling her head from side to side. She shouldn’t be disappointed. He had other cases. Other priorities.

Charlie raised her head and yawned. Leah smiled, and the dog lazily got up off the couch and allowed Leah to click on the leash and guide her to the door. She shrugged on a coat, and the two went out into the dark.

She should be afraid. It made sense that if Philip was out there, he could attack at any moment. But she knew he was waiting for their anniversary. He was waiting for the day they’d exchanged vows. In his mind, that was the day he’d reclaim what he considered his. She had two days and counting before their anniversary. She could run, but he’d follow, and again they’d replay this deadly wait-and-see game until he was ready to end it. No, her best chance was to stay and fight. She understood the depths of his evil and wouldn’t allow him to hurt her again.

Her thoughts turned to the listening device.

“I’m not going to be a sitting duck this time, Philip,” she whispered. “I’m not helpless.”

Rick got the call from Georgia, minutes after eleven, that Alex was in the hospital. He’d received a similar call two years before from Deke, right after Georgia had been admitted to the hospital. Memories of that long night chased him as he strode through the emergency room doors, ignoring the stiffness in his leg.