Текст книги "I'll Never Let You Go"

Автор книги: Mary Burton

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“You don’t blame yourself, I hope. Replaying the scene with different scenarios never works.”

“I know. I do.”

“But . . .”

Leah shrugged. “It’s hard not to wonder where I’d be or where she’d be if the timing had been just a little different.”

A sigh leaked over her clenched teeth. “My life can be divided into before and after the attack. Before I had friends. Most scattered after the attack. My roommate moved all her stuff out of our apartment. I never saw her again. That made me angry for a long time, but I realize now she was scared.”

“People are scared of us,” a young woman said. “It’s almost as if we were at fault.”

“I lost a lot of friends while my ex-husband was stalking me,” another woman said. “And when he was finally arrested, he couldn’t stop apologizing. Said he didn’t want to hurt me. Said he hated it. Said I made him hurt me.” Bitterness twisted around the last words.

A heavy silence settled over the room, and for a moment no one spoke. Finally, Sierra broke the silence. “You said your husband is dead?”

“He got away from the cops the night of the attack and made it as far as South Carolina. He was in a car accident. His ID was found at the scene and the body identified.” Her hold on her coffee cup tightened. “Since I found my friend, my ex-husband is all I can think about.”

“So do they have a suspect in your friend’s murder?” Sierra asked.

“If the police do, they’re not telling me.”

“Did you tell them about your past?”

“No,” Leah said. “If my ex-husband were alive, I’d have said something. Philip never did like it when I had friends, and it would be like him to target one. But he’s gone.” She picked at a thread on her pants. “I called the detective who oversaw the identification of his body. Left her a voice mail, and I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m crazy, calling after all this time.”

“Why’d you call?” Sierra asked.

Nervous laughter bubbled in Leah. “Maybe because I never saw his body. I never anchored his death in my mind. When his grandmother had the funeral I was still too banged up to travel. I’ve only visited his grave once.”

“When’s the last time you called the detective?” Sierra asked.

“On our anniversary three years ago. For whatever reason, I had a little panic attack and needed to call. She was nice. Again, I sounded a little insane. Logically, I know he’s dead, but a part of me always doubts.”

A young girl with red hair and glasses, who had been the victim of a shooting, snorted. “I don’t trust anything or anyone. The system does screw up. I had my husband arrested for beating me and then, when the cops released him, they didn’t warn me. Twelve hours after he got out, he tracked me down and shot me. Three days after the shooting, I was recovering in the hospital, tubes stuck out of every end of my body, when the jail called to inform me he had been released.”

The women nodded. Several murmured warnings.

“I’m here tonight so you all can talk me off the ledge,” Leah said, smiling as if it would lighten the fear. She shifted her gaze to Sierra. “Not a real ledge. Just the proverbial ledge. I’m so tired of being afraid. I’m so tired of fearing every corner or odd sound I hear at night. I thought I was past it, but it’s all rushing back now.”

Sierra smiled. “Leah, you’re doing just fine. Give yourself a break. You suffered a terrible trauma. Give yourself time to absorb it.”

“So, you think that’s all it is?”

“You found a friend murdered. Give yourself a break. That’s a hell of an ordeal.”

“I need to give it time,” Leah said automatically.

“Yes,” Sierra said. “And if the police talk to you again, tell them what happened to you. They might cut you a little slack.”

“I know.”

Sierra recognized the evasion humming below the surface. “Talking to the cops will make you feel better. You’ll at least have them on your side.”

“Philip was a cop.” This was a detail she’d never shared before.

Sierra leaned forward a fraction. “Come again?”

“He was a cop. That’s how he was able to talk himself out of so many spots with me. Trust is kind of an issue for me.”

“You can’t judge all cops by him,” Sierra said. “There are a lot of good ones.”

“I know. I know. A good one saved me. If not for him, I’d have bled to death.” She ran nervous fingers through her hair. “I even had a date the other night, the first one in years, with a cop.”

“He a nice guy?”

“Seems to be.” A shrug and a smile, meant to soften the absolute panic, fell flat. “Though I kinda freaked out on the date. A little panic attack.”

“It was your first date.”

“I know. I’ve been thrown and I need to get back up on the horse.” God, how many times had she heard that analogy and thought it bogus?

Other women shared their stories, and though Leah tried to focus, their voices faded to the background. Philip wasn’t alive. And Deidre’s death was a terrible coincidence.

By the time the meeting ended, Leah’s worries lingered, but she didn’t feel so alone. As she walked to her car, her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

Let it go to voice mail, fear whispered.

Don’t be a baby. Her grip tightening, she counted the rings. One. Two. Three. On the fourth ring, she answered. “Hello.”

Silence answered her. Long tense seconds passed. She gripped the phone harder.

“Hello?”

No answer.

Her heart kicking into high gear and annoyed, she ended the call. Get a grip.

Still gripping the phone tight, she hurried to her car, slid behind the wheel, and locked the doors. The cold leather seat chilled her bones as she studied the still shadows for monsters.

Starting the engine, she glared at the phone. “If that’s meant to be a joke, Karma, it’s really not very funny,” She said out loud. Her heart raced a little faster. “Shit. I don’t need hang-ups on a good day.”

Distracted, she pulled out into traffic as a horn blared behind her coming from her blind spot. She hit the brakes, realizing she’d nearly driven into a tow truck. Damn.

Sweating, white-knuckled the wheel. The phone rang again, and she jumped. Glaring at the display, she watched the same number flash again. This time she let it ring, gritting her teeth until the phone finally went silent. Without checking for a message, she deleted the call from her phone.

Philip is dead. He is dead.

Chapter Ten

Tuesday, January 17, 8 A.M.

Tyler Radcliff dreamed of Deidre. She wasn’t laughing or smiling. She wasn’t wearing that red bikini he’d liked so much when they’d been in Aruba. Instead, she wore that damn black suit that had never been flattering, and her angled face was pale, gaunt, and bloodless. She’d moved toward him, her long arms extended as she reached for him. He’d tried to jerk away, but those ice-cold fingers connected with his brow, sending shivers through his body. She traced the ridge of his brow and with her lips hovering close to his ear said, “I loved you so much once. What went wrong?”

He jerked awake, his hands trembling and his body drenched in sweat. He rolled on his back and stared at the play of shadows across his bedroom as his hand slid to the side of the bed that had been Deidre’s. The sheets were ice cold. He rolled on his side and imagined her lying there, sleeping, a slight smile on her face.

He smoothed his hand over her pillow, hating that the down was plump and missing the subtle imprint of her head. Dee, how did it turn to shit between us?

With a groan, he rolled out of bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. Grabbing a T-shirt from the floor, he pulled it over his head and padded into the living room, where a half-full bottle of bourbon sat on the coffee table. Pushing an old pizza box off the couch and tossing it on the floor, he reached for the bottle as he dug the remote out of the sofa and turned on the television to CNN Sports.

He drank from the bottle as he glanced down at the wedding album sitting on the coffee table next to an empty bag of potato chips. The book was open to the last shot, taken just before they’d taken off for Aruba. Deidre was wearing a slim-fitting green dress she’d slipped on after the reception and he wore khakis, a white shirt, and a red tie. Handfuls of birdseed flew in the air above them and both had huddled close as they waited for the seeds to drop. Tracing Deidre’s smiling face with a callused fingertip, he drank, savoring the burn of the bourbon as it rolled down his throat.

What the hell had gone so wrong between them?

Their wedding day had been simple but beautiful. No fancy churches or reception halls for them. A small, intimate ceremony had suited them just fine.

He flipped several pages back to the picture taken before she’d walked across the grassy field toward him and the preacher. Curls peeked out from under her white veil, and she’d been so damn pretty he’d thought himself the luckiest man in the world. Later, at the reception, his hands had trembled just a little when he’d reached up under her skirt and removed the blue garter, which he’d tossed toward the single guys. In those days, he could barely keep his hands off her.

Hell, he’d never tired of Deidre in bed. She was wild and didn’t mind keeping it fresh and fun. Even right up until last fall, when he’d found the emails to the other guy, he was hot for her.

But the emails had struck him right in the face, like a sucker punch. Initially, he hadn’t been able to breathe, too shocked to think. Then slowly, as he reread the emails through the night, his frozen emotions had warmed to sadness and then heated to anger and rage.

If she’d walked in the door that day, he’d have killed her right then. No questions asked. For hours, he’d clenched and unclenched his fist as he imagined what it would feel like to wrap his hands around her neck.

He hadn’t told her he’d found the emails at first. Instead, he’d become obsessed with finding out the name of her lover. He’d taken to following her until the late fall day when he’d seen her dart into a trendy café in Franklin and sit down with a cup of coffee. She’d only been at the table a few minutes before a man had entered the shop. She’d risen immediately, and when he approached her, she had hugged him warmly.

Deidre had once hugged Tyler with that kind of passion.

Shit. He reached for the bourbon bottle and drank heavily. He set the bottle down.

The TBI agent had mentioned Leah Carson, Deidre’s new friend. He’d known the two had grown close but now wondered what secrets Deidre had shared with her. He didn’t need her feeding the cops stories about his troubles with Deidre. Still, as a cop he understood it was better to keep his distance from her. Better to let TBI do its thing and let the whole deal play out.

Better.

Smarter.

But the man didn’t want to hear the cop’s advice. If Deidre had been here, she’d have talked him out of what he wanted to do. But Deidre wasn’t here.

He staggered to his feet and made his way across the living room, littered with dirty laundry, and sat down at his computer. He’d bought it a few years back so he could log into the office and work from home if need be. No one would have expected an old rusty guy like him to take to the computer, but he had discovered a natural talent for all things cyber. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and picked up the phone.

He dialed a familiar number, a contact of his in the Nashville Police Department. The phone rang twice before he heard a gruff, “Officer Gilroy.”

“Gus, this is Tyler Radcliff.”

“Tyler.” His tone carried a heaviness that told Tyler that word of Deidre’s death had made its way through the department. Made sense. Cops talked, and the loss of an officer hit everyone hard. “How the hell are you doing, man?”

“I’m hanging tough. It’s not easy, but I’m keeping it together.”

“That’s about all you can do, I guess.” He and Gus had attended the academy together twenty years ago. They’d had their share of fun, tearing up the bars on Broadway, and chasing their share of skirts. Gus had been one of the groomsmen at his wedding.

“I need a favor.”

“Sure, man. Name it.”

“I’m going to need pallbearers. Could you help me out?”

“Shit. Sure, anything you want. When’s the funeral?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He was still Deidre’s legal husband, and seeing as her parents were dead and her sister was a real flake, the funeral duty would fall to him. Despite all their problems, Tyler had loved Deidre and would see her properly buried. “Deidre is still with the medical examiner.” The idea of her lying on a cold slab, her naked body exposed for all to see, bothered him. He should have reveled in her postmortem humiliation, but he didn’t. There’d been a time when he’d imagined they’d grow old together, die quietly in their bed.

He’d never imagined her cut up like a cheap piece of deli meat.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

The sincerity in his buddy’s voice tightened Tyler’s throat. Times like this you discovered your friends. “I don’t know, man. I’m figuring this out as I go. TBI came by and asked a lot of questions. It’s surreal.”

“I heard Alex Morgan was working the case.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like the guy, but he’s good. He’ll figure this out.”

“I hope so.”

“He said a friend of Deidre’s found her.”

“Yeah. Carson was the name. A veterinarian.”

“Right. She and Deidre were friends.” He nestled closer to the phone. “Was Alex looking into Deidre before this?”

A full silence lingered. “Yeah. Word is she might have taken money.”

“Shit. Deidre was a good cop.”

“I know. I know.”

“Okay.” He released a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Gus.”

“When you’ve scheduled the funeral, would you find a way to let me know? I can help with arrangements. Get more pallbearers. Whatever you need.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He stood, swaying a little as the weight of the bottle of bourbon hit him. His thoughts quickly shifted from the funeral and skipped ahead to Leah Carson.

“Thanks. This means a lot.” Impatience nipped at him.

He hung up, swayed a little more. The bourbon wasn’t good if he wanted to think straight. He needed coffee, lots of black coffee, so he could drive and think clearly.

He needed to have his game face on when he faced the funeral home and made the final arrangements for Deidre. Once that was settled, next on his list would be Leah Carson. He would find out exactly what she knew about Deidre.

Chapter Eleven

Wednesday, January 18, 5:45 A.M.

It was raining. And cold. Leah expected winter to be cold, but this unending frigid snap made life tough. Hot coffee steaming from the cup holder beside her seat, she drove to the spot where the running group was scheduled to meet today, all the while wishing away the morning run. Before, she’d have hated the weather, but she’d always known Deidre would be waiting. Deidre was always waiting.

Images flashed of her friend lying faceup, skin sliced, sightless eyes staring, blood pooling in a thick dark puddle.

Tears welled in Leah’s eyes. So easy to turn the car around, crawl back into bed, and pull the covers over her eyes. It was so tempting.

“No,” she whispered. “You aren’t going to quit on Deidre or yourself.” She’d sworn when she moved to Nashville she wouldn’t be frightened. She wouldn’t hide from life.

The downpour grew heavier, as if someone had turned the tap on full. She glared at the dark gray sky. Really? You can’t cut me a little slack here? Thunder clapped. Right.

Headlights cut through the rain, and as she rounded the corner into the parking lot, the lights illuminated a half-dozen cars, all of which she recognized. These runners were the heart and soul of the group. They never missed. And they’d certainly not miss today. Pride flickered. Many hadn’t braved the weather, but she had.

Leah parked behind a black SUV and reached for her running gloves, which she tugged on. Pulling her skullcap down around her ears, she muttered an oath and got out of the car. Within seconds, her jacket was damp and the cold leaked into her bones.

She jogged up to the ring of runners who, when they saw her, nodded approval. She barely glanced at the half-dozen men and women as they clasped hands and formed a circle. They all bowed their heads in silence.

After a moment, David lifted his head. He liked to lead. Liked directing others. He clapped his hands. “Let’s make this a great run!”

She joined the group in a cheer that vibrated in her chest and resonated energy that followed her into the first half mile of her run and kept her going in her typical, if not so fast, fairly steady pace down the rain-soaked, muddied path. When the adrenaline faded, she huffed in a deeper icy breath and imagined herself moving faster even as the group soon broke away, leaving her alone on the trail with her thoughts. On a normal day, there were always stragglers within shouting distance so she never minded getting dropped by the larger group. But today, those slower runners had skipped the run, leaving her alone to bring up the rear.

The rain pelted her face, and whatever heat she’d generated from the run quickly dissipated. The trees along the path grew taller, darker, but she didn’t dare a glance into the shadows.

“Just keep moving,” she whispered. “Five miles feels like forever, but it’s not. You can do this.”

Over the next few miles, she fell farther behind, and the stand of trees flanking the path felt like it was closing in around her. Several times, she thought she heard footsteps crushing twigs and leaves as heavy footsteps raced through the woods near her. Her breath huffed faster, more urgent. Gritting her teeth, she kept putting one foot in front of the other until finally the rain stopped as she rounded the final corner of the course and emerged into the clearing back at the parking lot. She’d made it.

Most of the cars of the other runners were gone but two remained. One belonged to David, but she didn’t recognize the other. She dashed to her car, raising her hand toward David, and slid behind the wheel. She grabbed a towel she’d stowed on the passenger seat and quickly turned on the car and the heat. Her skin tingled as hot air warmed her near-frozen flesh. As she dried her face, she promised herself a stop at the doughnut shop before work. She earned it.

David honked his horn and tossed her a wave. She waved again and watched as he drove off. The guy could be pompous and irritating, but he’d waited for her. Nice. David had never lingered before unless it was to see Deidre alone. Deidre’s loss must have had an impact on him.

Leah tossed her towel aside and put her car in reverse. As she backed up, the second, unfamiliar car lingered across the lot. The engine was running, the driver behind the wheel, head tucked, the windows fogged. Even with distance and fog blurring her vision, she knew it was a man sitting behind the wheel.

Eyes narrowing, she stared into her rearview mirror, straining to make out his features. Who else had waited for her? She didn’t recognize the car, and as she ran through the list of the people she’d seen today, she couldn’t match the runners with the vehicle.

Who was that guy?

No answer came, and the nothingness sent a chill slithering up her spine, one vertebrae at a time. She quickly backed out of her space. As she crossed the empty parking lot, she glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering and fearing if he’d follow. However, the car remained in its spot, the driver’s face still obscured.

As the distance between Leah and the unknown driver grew, the tension snapped her nerves, even as she attempted to summon calm. Lots of people run in the park.

There weren’t a lot of dedicated runners on days like today. But there were some. A stranger didn’t necessarily mean trouble.

Alex sat in his car, leaning back just far enough in his seat so Leah couldn’t see his face. He’d wondered if she’d show today. Wondered who else in the running group would show. He’d arrived just as the group had set out on the footpath. He’d waited ten minutes before he’d followed. Good to be close, but not too close.

Leah had fallen behind, and several times he’d had to slow his pace so he didn’t overtake her. He could hear her breathing, knew she was struggling, but she kept running. Kept moving.

She was an odd mix. Loved animals, even lowered her guard around them, but with people, she was always on guard. Somewhere along the way, she’d been broken.

Toward the end of the run he’d cut down the side path and turned on the juice, his long legs eating up the space so that he arrived ahead of her. He’d seen David’s car in the lot, waiting. Was he being gallant or was he lurking? Stalking?

He’d gotten into his car, stripped off his wet jacket, hat, and gloves. He turned on the engine and heater, soaking up the warmth.

Blowing into chilled hands, he waited and watched the woods for Leah to emerge. Another ten minutes had passed and he’d been on the verge of heading back down the muddy path when she’d appeared, soaked to the skin but still running. One foot in front of the other.

Most would have been put off by Leah’s odd juxtaposition of personality traits. She certainly was everything he didn’t need. But he liked her quirks. Her spirit. Her. He’d never understood the concept of love at first sight. Thought it was for fools. The weak. Not logical. But in this moment, the idea had merit.

Leah drove home, all the while checking her rearview mirror for any signs of the car. Nothing. No one was behind her. False alarm.

At a stoplight, Leah slumped back in her seat and swiped a hand over her damp hair. I’m losing it. A man in the park. This has nothing to do with me. Philip is buried in the ground.

In the days when Philip had been stalking her, she’d learned to vary her routine. Never take the same route twice. Instead of turning onto her street as she normally did, she circled the block once and then twice, all the while looking in her rearview mirror to confirm no one had followed. Now, distracted, she didn’t notice the traffic stopping unexpectedly. When she did, she had to jam her foot on the brakes. Her wheels hydroplaned and she nearly slammed into the car in front of her. Heart pounding, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. No one was following her, but if she didn’t get her act together, she’d have bigger problems.

Rattled, she drove directly to her town house and parked in front of it. A glance at the clock, and she realized she’d not only almost wrecked her car but she was late. Damn. No time for doughnuts. She dashed inside, locked the doors behind her, and hurried to the shower.

As she stood under the spray, the heat of the water teased a shudder from her chilled bones. She quickly washed her hair and then soaped her body. Fingertips grazed the uneven scars on her forearms and belly, lingering on the thick raised scar on her left side. Not Philip’s first cut, but his most lethal. This had been the cut that nearly ended her life.

Leah flexed her fingers, rinsed off the remainder of the soap, and shut off the tap. As she toweled off, she looked toward the long full mirror, thickly clouded with condensation. Wrapping the towel around her, she wiped clean a section and exposed only her face so that she didn’t have to see all her scars. The two on her face ran along her right chin. The plastic surgeon had worked long and hard to repair the damage.

She dried her hair and applied the special makeup designed to cover birthmarks and scars. Once it was applied, her skin looked almost normal. A half hour later, she emerged from her town house, coffee in hand, dressed in a dark turtleneck, jeans, and black walking shoes.

The rain had cleared out, but the January morning jealously gripped the cold. Her purse slung over her shoulder, she hurried to her car, set her cup in the holder beside the early morning’s stale one. She started the engine, welcomed the heat, and was reaching for the gearshift when her phone rang. She glanced at the number. A local area code. Because she didn’t recognize it, she let voice mail pick up the call and drove into the office.

She arrived at the clinic by eight. Flipping on the front lights in reception, she immediately locked the main door behind her. She made a habit of always locking the doors when she was there alone. Gail would arrive at eight thirty, and from then on the doors would be open.

Most mornings, she had about half an hour to check on the overnight patients and review the morning schedule before the first round of appointments arrived. Only two overnight guests were housed in the kennel at the moment. Tracker and a tomcat who’d gotten into a fight. She’d stitched up the cat yesterday and given him a strong sedative so he would sleep through the night. Now he was awake and glaring at the cage bars as he scratched at the white cone-shaped collar around his neck.

Tracker rose, silent, his gaze alert as the cat hissed. Normally, the shepherd was a quiet dog. Not one to bark but always paying attention as he waited. Friendly enough, he never wagged his tail until Alex arrived to check on him. Tracker understood Alex was part of his pack.

“Going home today, Tracker.” She checked her watch. “Your dad should be here by lunch.”

She opened Tracker’s cage as the cat batted his cage. The shepherd eased out of his crate, his joints stiff from age and years of police work.

As she hooked Tracker’s leash and led him toward the back door, the tomcat hissed loud and clear. She laughed. “Don’t complain to me, mister. You’re the one who likes to duke it out on the mean streets. You’re lucky you didn’t lose a foot. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

Outside, Tracker raised his nose and sniffed the air, as if savoring the cold. They walked around the parking lot and toward the ring of woods that surrounded the lot. As much as she didn’t like the cold, she didn’t rush Tracker. Fifteen minutes later, the two were back inside and she was loading fresh food and water into his bowls. The dog ate happily.

Leah cleaned the cat’s litter box and then filled his bowls. He dove into the food, growling as he gobbled. She went to the break room and put a pot of coffee on to brew before heading to her office.

Her room was a small space, barely large enough for the desk, a chair for her, and another for anyone else who needed to sit. Bookshelves lined the walls behind her, but other than a few of her veterinary textbooks, most of the space was filled with books that had belonged to the former vet. Her diploma hung on the wall, but she had no personal photos or mementos for the shelves. Maybe, over time, she’d make memories and her own mark.

The front door opened and closed, and she recognized Dr. Nelson’s slow, steady footsteps. She always relaxed a fraction when he or Gail arrived and she was no longer alone.

“Leah,” Dr. Nelson said, leaning on her door frame. “Did you have a chance to walk our overnight guest?”

“I did.”

“Thank you. I was worried because I was running late. I had a power outage last night and overslept.”

She smiled. “You can always text me.”

“I had my wife call and she left a voice-mail message.”

Leah reached in her purse for her phone and noted the number. “I’ll put her name and number in my contact book so I recognize her the next time. Sorry about that.”

He rubbed his cold hands together. “No problem. Nice to know I have good help.”

She rose and slid on her white jacket. “We got a lot of icy rain last night. Did that damage your power lines?”

“My wife’s got a call in to the electric company. But we’re the only house without juice.”

A distant alarm bell clanged in her head. It was easy to cut the power to a house. It took so little effort to totally ruin another’s day.

“So what’s on the agenda?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“Full morning of appointments. The usual. Shots. Checkups and a case of mange. The rest I’m not so sure about. Routine.”

“I like routine.”

She filled her coffee cup in the break room and headed out toward reception, where she found Gail logging onto her computer. She had short, curly hair that framed a round face, wore a scrubs top over her jeans. She had been with the clinic at least two years. Young and full of energy, she talked often about becoming a vet tech but hadn’t done much about looking into programs. Still, the clients loved her because she knew every pet’s name and history.

Leah and Dr. Nelson began the morning round of appointments and she soon lost track of the time. By the time she took a break, it was after eleven.

She handed the last of the morning files to Gail. “Busy morning.”

“You just missed Tracker. His owner got him.”

She checked her watch. “He’s early.”

“I couldn’t tell who was happier to see who.” Gail grinned. “He said to say thank you.”

Tracker was gone. That meant no more visits from Alex. “Glad to help.”

Gail reached for a large arrangement of flowers. “We just got a delivery,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. The crystal vase, filled with purple irises, caught the fluorescent light and somehow made the arrangement even more beautiful. The display of freshly cut flowers was stunning.

Leah took a small step back. Irises. She’d carried a bouquet of irises at her wedding. At the time she’d loved the delicate soft petals. She’d bought extra that day because the flowers had been on sale. Later, she’d discovered they’d been on their last legs and had died almost immediately.

With her soon-to-die flowers and wearing her modest white dress, she’d smiled up at Philip moments before she was to walk down the aisle.

Philip had frowned. “You look sad.”

Jitters made sense on a wedding day, but her feelings had strayed toward sadness and worry. “I wish my mom could be here. Doesn’t seem right.”

He draped a large arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hold. “She’ll come around. You’ll see. Just give her time.”

“I don’t know. The fight we had the other night was pretty bad.”

A hint of a smile flickered over his eyes and passed so quickly that she decided she’d imagined it. “You’ve got me.” He pulled a blossom from her bouquet and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

Now, as Leah stared at the flowers, tension, regret, and guilt collided. As quickly as those flowers had withered, so had her hopes for her marriage. How could she have been so blind? So foolish? She was a smart woman with very poor judgment.