“No definitive word yet on her case. I’m running theories. As soon as I’m sure, I’ll have questions.”

She frowned. “Mysterious.”

“Not meant to be. I like my facts in good order before I present them.”

She sipped her water. “I suppose her husband will make the funeral arrangements.”

His brow rose. Had he picked up on the bitterness? “Does that bother you?”

She shrugged. “Just seems wrong he’d be the one.”

“Her sister is back in town. She’ll be involved. But Radcliff is still her legal husband.”

“I know.” A smile flickered, halfhearted. “And it’s really not my business.”

“But it bothers you.”

“I suppose it does. But in the eyes of the law my feelings don’t really stack up.”

“No.”

He studied her face, churning up a wave of self-consciousness. Was her scar showing? “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“Takes more than a flat.”

Blue eyes sharpened. “You had a good run time today. I hear the time was probably your best yet.”

“Maybe one day I’ll approach the glory days of high school when I ran cross-country.”

“You ran cross country?”

She laughed. “It was a small school, and I liked to run.”

“Must have been some team.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I ran a seven-minute mile in those days.”

“You ran a seven-minute mile? Amazing.”

She didn’t explain a stab wound left her with diminished lung capacity that derailed her time. “I hardly remember those days.”

“High school is a million miles away for me.” His darkening gaze conjured questions about what he really knew about her. He wouldn’t have to dig too deep to uncover her past. The idea of him poking around the shadows annoyed her. “I bet you were a straight A student.”

He shook his head. “Did what I thought I needed to do and no more.”

“I pegged you for the classic overachiever.”

“That bug didn’t catch me until I joined TBI. What about you?”

“Classic A student. Cheerleader. Whole nine yards. Both my parents were still alive and healthy. Good times.”

She glanced at the clock. “So what brought you here today?”

“Checking out the running group.”

“Again? They all know you’re a cop.”

He shrugged. “Never know what you’ll learn.”

She sipped. “If you’re looking to catch people when their reserves are low, we’re doing intervals tomorrow. That workout always kills.”

That unpracticed smile flickered. “Are you trying to chase me away?”

“No. Not at all. As fast as you run, I doubt it will be a challenge.” He stared at her, not responding. Nudged by the heavy silence, she said, “Thanks for being my bodyguard and for giving me the water, but I’ve got to get to work.”

“Sure.” As she reached for the handle, he asked, “David ever talk about Deidre?”

She paused. “He invited me out for coffee last night. I think he’s worried. Doesn’t like being associated with murder. But then, who does?”

“He say anything about Deidre?”

“Only reiterated that they were friends with benefits. No passion. No reason to kill.” She cocked her head. “Is there a problem with him?”

“Why would there be?”

“You’re TBI. Deidre is dead. And you have questions about him.”

“I’m asking questions about everyone in the running group.”

“Even me?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“Deidre ever talk about her past?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Other than her marriage, no.”

“What about work?”

“Never talked about work, but I got the sense she loved it.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

She opened the door. “Thanks again for waiting.”

“See you soon.”

“Right.” Leah trotted across the lot to her car, glanced in the backseat, and then slid behind the wheel. She turned on the heat, promising never to complain about summer again. The SUV waited until she put her car in reverse, backed up, and waved. He nodded and followed.

As she pictured Alex waiting for her at the top of the hill, attraction snapped. The sensation was odd, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She’d been too nervous on their so-called date to feel anything other than nervous, but she felt something now.

Energy hummed in her veins. Her skin warmed. As much as she wanted to embrace the unexpected feelings, she feared them. She’d once been attracted to Philip.

The two men appeared to be similar, powerful and in charge, but she could see now that Philip was weak compared to Alex. Power, not fear, radiated from Alex, and the way he looked at her made her a little weak.

Getting close was a dangerous, risky thing to do. She’d promised herself she’d try dating this year. But she’d made no resolutions about starting a relationship, especially not with a man as dangerous as Alex.

Leah finished up the morning appointments just before two. Normally, the morning didn’t go so long, but there’d been a couple of emergencies, including an old cat having seizures and a dog that had been hit by a car. The cat had been stabilized and the dog, with a shattered back leg, had gone into surgery immediately. It had taken her over an hour and a half to set the pin in the dog’s hind leg, stitch it up, and build a cast. The half hound/half mutt named Maisey was in her cage. She was sleeping peacefully now, but when she woke in the next hour she was going to be sore and an unhappy camper with her cast and the cone around her neck.

Leah stood outside, behind the vet hospital, leaning against the brick wall. The afternoon sun hit this spot and it warmed the brick. It felt good to be in the fresh air. Instinctively, she reached in her pocket for a pack of cigarettes. Her fingers brushed dog treats and a rumpled pack of gum. She considered hopping in her car and making the five-minute drive to the drugstore, where she could pick up a pack of cigarettes. She’d only smoke one, she reasoned, and then she would throw out the rest of the pack.

“Damn,” she muttered. “You’re not going to do that.”

She opened her eyes and pushed away from the wall, her gaze catching sight of the spare tire on her car.

The image stirred the tension in her gut. She’d dropped the flat tire off at the garage that morning and the mechanic had promised to have it ready for her by the end of the day.

Her skin prickled, as if a thousand spiders crawled over it. It’s just a tire. No big deal.

Remembering her promise to call the South Carolina detective, she fished her cell from her pocket and checked. To her surprise, there were ten messages in her voice-mail box. She didn’t recognize any of the numbers. What the hell?

She played back the messages. Several from the local American Red Cross about a blood drive, one regarding real estate properties in Franklin, one from the Democratic Party and the other from the Republican Party. There was also one missed call with no message. Was someone giving out her phone number?

Frowning, she dialed the South Carolina number and waited as it rang. On the fourth ring, voice mail picked up again. “This is Leah Carson, former Leah Latimer. I called you a couple of days ago, checking on the status of an old case. Philip Latimer. He was my ex-husband, and his body was found in your county. Could you call me? I have a few questions.” She rattled off her number and hung up.

She turned to head back inside when she caught a shift in the shadows. She hesitated, gripping the phone in her hand. A tall man dressed in jeans, a collared shirt, a thick leather jacket, and cowboy boots stepped in her path. He had thick, dark hair, peppered with gray, and a thick mustache. He wore a cowboy hat.

“If you’re looking for the clinic, the front entrance is around the corner.”

His stare lingered on her long enough to ignite all the alarm bells in her head. “You Leah Carson?”