“No. Why would I do that?”

“I’ve read it. I even had the medical examiner in Nashville review it. I’m not convinced the body was Philip’s.”

For a split second her head spun. This worst-case scenario moment still invaded her dreams and could bring her out of a sound sleep screaming. “What?”

“I’m not sure he’s dead.”

Missing keys. Strange charges on her credit card. The flowers. A flat tire. All the random events lined up into a pattern. She clamored to hang on to control and not panic. “I spoke to the officer in South Carolina several times. She told me he was dead.”

Alex’s cool demeanor didn’t waver. “I’d like to have his body exhumed.”

“What?” Opening that grave was akin to opening a wound that had never healed. She feared what unseen poison festered there.

“I want to test the DNA. I’m not convinced it’s Latimer in the grave.”

Panic gripped her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Had she been fooling herself for the last four years? Had he been there all along, watching from the shadows?

“You’re his legal wife.” His rough tone grated against the words. “You can give me permission.”

Tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “I’m not his wife.”

“Legally, you are.”

“He is dead.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I could get a court order, but that would take time we don’t have. Your anniversary is approaching.”

She raised trembling fingers to her forehead. “Do you think he’s alive?”

“I don’t know. But I know Deidre and Philip worked together. I know he helped her lose evidence in a case involving her sister. Weeks ago she started skimming money. And she was stabbed to death.”

“Oh, God. Why kill her?”

“She knew him. Might have helped him escape. Maybe, after all this time, she decided to turn him in to the cops and clear her conscience.”

All Deidre’s smiles and nice words flashed. Was it all false? Could Deidre have been using her? God, this was her worst nightmare. “I don’t want to open Philip’s grave. I want this nightmare to go away.”

His tone warmed, softened. “Pretending and hoping doesn’t fix anything.”

She glared at him but heard the truth. Before, she’d prayed he’d stop, but of course he never had considered ending his cruel campaign. Hiding wouldn’t stop someone like Philip, who fed on fear. “I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign.”

“Good.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. “Sign this and I’ll submit it to the judge.”

She took the paper from him and dug a pen from her jacket pocket. Without reading it, she scrawled her name, Leah Carson, the tip of her pen digging deeper into the paper on the last few letters.

He accepted the paper and studied the signature. “Did you change your name back to Carson legally?”

“I did. But of course I had his death certificate. Do you want me to write Latimer?”

He frowned and folded the paper, creasing the edges to sharp points with his fingertips. “No. This should do.”

“I pray you’re wrong.”

“So do I.”

She reached for the door handle, anxious to be within the safety of the clinic walls. “Did you know about Deidre’s connection to Philip when you asked me out?”

“I knew Deidre was skimming money. I was investigating her. And I knew you were her new best friend. I suspected something but didn’t know for sure.”

“I thought you just came to check on Tracker.”

“My brother Rick agreed to board Tracker here for a few days so I had a reason to meet you.”

“I see.” She rubbed the scar on her palm. She had to give Alex points for honesty, even if the words cut. “Rick said he hated the idea of boarding the dog.”

“He only did it because I asked him to.”

As much as she hated truth’s bite, she preferred it to Philip’s lies. Deidre’s lies.

“This bothers you.”

“Hurts a little to learn this was part of your job. Took a lot for me to agree to a date.”

“I like you. Admire you. That’s the truth.”

“Truth? Excuse me if I’m skeptical. My people-reading skills are the worst.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Just didn’t tell me the whole truth.”

“When I asked you about the scars, you said it was an accident.”

“My past is no one’s business.”

“And neither are the details of my job. Keeping secrets is a necessity.”

Her hand rested on the door handle. “You’re right about that.” She yanked open the door, disappointment chasing her, as she vanished inside, letting the door slam hard on Alex.

Inside, she leaned against the cold metal door, tense and waiting. She half-expected Alex to bang on the door or circle around and enter through the clinic’s front door to say something else to her. He didn’t knock or call her name, and that fostered an odd and very troubling sense of loss.

He was a man who liked to win. And she was a piece on the chessboard. Stupid to get attached.

Inside the clinic, a phone rang and a dog barked, but she stayed close to the door until she heard what she thought was the crunch of his footsteps against the gravel. Her breath burning in her chest, she waited longer and then, finally, when she heard the engine, exhaled slowly and carefully.

She wanted Deidre’s killer to be found. She wanted the questions about Philip silenced and, God help her, she’d wanted a relationship with Alex.

Life had taught her that wanting didn’t always coincide with receiving.

Chapter Sixteen

Friday, January 20, 4 P.M.

Disappointed with himself, Alex closed the car door and jammed his keys into the ignition. That wasn’t the way he’d envisioned this conversation with Leah. He’d known his theories would upset her, but he’d hoped they’d find a way to work together. And he found the pain etched in her features troubling.

Damn. He started the car. He hadn’t spun this damn web of lies. That had been Deidre and, perhaps, Philip’s doing. His job was to untangle it all.

Alex gripped the wheel. If his theories were correct, he needed to stay on point to protect Leah. Philip Latimer had attacked her, and if he were alive, he would do so again, of that Alex was certain.

God knows, Leah had no reason to trust him, but he wanted her trust. He was on her side. And when he picked a side, like it or not, he was all in.

Leah didn’t realize that. She considered talk cheap. Words carried little weight with her. One way or another, he would show her that he was on her side.

He drove to the Nashville Police Department to meet with Georgia and Deke. The three were to discuss the findings from Deidre’s crime scene.

He found Georgia in her lab, her red hair twisted into a topknot as she leaned over a black cotton shirt laid out on a light table. She peered through a magnifying lens suspended over the table with an adjustable arm. With a pair of tweezers, she plucked a hair sample from the shirt’s collar and carefully placed it in an evidence bag.

“Is this a bad time?” Alex asked.

Georgia glanced up and smiled. “No. Your timing is perfect, as always. I was just wrapping up with this piece.” She carefully refolded the shirt and placed it back in a large evidence bag.

“What’s that from?”

“A homicide on the East Side. Looks like a drug buy gone bad. This shirt is from the shooter.”

When it came to everyday life, his sister could be scattered, but when it came to work, her focus was laser sharp. “Got time to talk about Deidre’s crime scene?”

She pulled off rubber gloves. “I do. We worked that crime scene for two full days, dusting and collecting in the kitchen as well as the entire house.”

“So give me what you have.” He hitched his hip on the corner of a metal desk.

“As the blood splatter suggested, it all went down in the kitchen.” She reviewed the details of the killing.