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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 r
ain 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.
