His wife arrived an hour later and parked in her reserved spot under the street lamp. She hurried from her car up the brick front steps of the town house, unlocked the door, and vanished inside. Lights clicked on, and though she’d already drawn the drapes, he could see her figure pass in front of the sliding glass door before the lights in her bedroom clicked on.

He imagined her in that bedroom, stripping off her shirt, her full breasts spilling over the top of her bra. It had been too long since he’d kissed those breasts, but he remembered how soft they felt. He remembered her lips tasted like her cherry lipstick. He remembered those lush lips kissing him along his belly, teasing him to the brink of insanity. He remembered every single detail of their life together.

But she wasn’t thinking about him as she stripped off her clothes. A different man lingered in her thoughts. How many men had she fucked since him?

It took all his willpower not to scream as he removed a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. Moonlight glinted off the sharp blade as he gouged it into the truck’s seat. He sliced through leather, imagining it was flesh.

He leaned back against the seat. Her shadow passed back into the living room, and the light of a television glowed as her silhouette lowered on the couch.

In the last few weeks, he’d learned all her new patterns and all her secrets, tracking her and listening via the bug he’d planted in her house. “No one knows you better than me, babe. No one.”

After an hour in the parking lot, the cold had numbed his toes and the tips of his fingers. He would have stayed all night, watching her sit on her couch in front of the television, but there were enough people coming and going at this time of night to get him noticed. He drove off, knowing she was alone in her town house, unable to sleep and thinking about him.

Until death do us part.

The words hummed in the back of his throat. So poignant, and yet their meaning appealed to him.

Until death do us part.

His little bird flew free right now, but soon he’d catch her and pluck off her wings. She belonged to him and no one else.

Until death do us part.

Chapter Four

Sunday, January 15, 6 A.M.

Keys. Where were the damn car keys? Leah brushed her fingers a second time over and then around the lopsided ceramic blue bowl always by the back door and felt for her keys. A quirky yet unbreakable habit, she always put them by the back door in the exact same place. It was a reasonable habit. Made sense. Saved her time. And it worked so well.

But the keys weren’t there. She glanced at the clock on her cell and knew she only had a half hour to meet up with the running group. They started at exactly 6:30 A.M., and if she weren’t there, they left without her.

“Where’re my keys?” Confirming they weren’t in the bowl, she checked her purse, rattled it, turned it upside down. No keys. What had she been doing last night?

Ah, the date. It had been a long day, she’d been tired, but she’d agreed to a date with Alex. He was tall, good-looking, and an ambitious agent. He was the kind of guy most women wanted to date.

She’d wanted to like him, should have liked him, but trust was going to take more than a New Year’s resolution.

She moved toward the large couch where she’d eaten dinner, reheated Chinese leftovers, after her return to the town house. She pulled out the cushions. Nothing. Irritated and a bit desperate, she ran her hands along the creases of the couch. Her fingers brushed metal and she pulled out her keys, half relieved yet puzzled that she’d lost them.

Leah had her faults, but she was painfully precise. How could a date have thrown off her routine so completely? Maybe it wasn’t the date but the text that had proved to be a false alarm? Was her steady, even life so fragile that she couldn’t handle any deviation?

Damn.

She snatched up the keys and hurried to her car. The morning chill cleared her head, but she questioned again this resolve to get fit. She turned on the ignition and switched the window defroster on high as she watched the frost on the windshield slowly melt. “Crazy people run marathons. They’re insane. Misguided fools. Sane people are asleep in bed right now.”

The ice on the windshield yielded a large enough hole for her to see well enough so she could drive. She threw the car in gear and made a run for it.

As she made her way down the dark streets, the lost keys jangled in her mind. Before Philip had died, missing keys would have totally freaked her out. She’d have panicked and called the cops, certain he was behind the mishap. She’d have called her aunt, hysterical.

Her heart raced. “Philip is gone.” He was dead. Buried right here in Nashville.

He wasn’t messing with her. She’d simply misplaced her damn keys.

Leah released the breath caught in her throat as she wove her way through town toward Centennial Park. She’d joined the running group when Deidre had reached out to her. She’d already decided to give up smoking as a New Year’s resolution, so how much worse could it be to add running? Famous last words. Moments like this, she questioned her sanity. Later, after the run and a hot shower, she’d feel a boost of pride and hope, two unfamiliar emotions that had become so addictive.

She spotted the line of ten cars parked at the park entrance. Most people still remained in their cars, staying close to the heat as long as possible. She parked, checked her watch, and realized she had only seconds to spare. She reached for her water bottle and discovered she’d forgotten it. Left it by the back door. The missing keys had distracted her. Thrown her off-track. Damn.

She pulled her ignition key from the ring, tucked the remaining keys under her mat, and got out of the car. The morning blast of cold air hit her hard and she reminded herself yet again that physical fitness was a good thing. She locked her car, unlocked it, locked it again, and checked the door handle to make sure it was secure.

She moved toward the park bench where the runners all assembled. Today was a short run. Five miles. They were all slowly building up their distance. For the best runners in the group, five miles was easy, so they focused on time. She focused on finishing, surviving.

“Leah!”

Leah turned toward the familiar female voice and smiled.

Leah, for the most part, still didn’t reach out to a lot of people. When Philip had been at his worst, he’d terrorized her as well as the people around her. She’d learned to keep her distance. During the last four years, she should have felt free to make new friends, but she hadn’t. She’d focused on school and work. She’d kept her life as small as possible, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. Logically, she understood Philip was forever out of her life. She shouldn’t worry. But fear and apprehension would not release their grip.

“Deidre.” Leah rubbed her gloved hands together, anxious to get started.

“Week three of training and you’re hanging tough.” Deidre grinned as she stretched her arms.

“Keep telling me why I’m doing this.” The cold air transformed her breath into visible puffs of air.

“Oh, you love it.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m still waiting on the love.”

Deidre laughed. “As I remember, it didn’t take much to convince you.”

Leah smiled as the other members of the group assembled around them. There were about a dozen today. The day after the New Year, the group had boasted over twenty, but some of the resolutions had drifted away in the following days.

“How did your date go last night?” Deidre asked.

Leah shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Time to breathe a little life into her nonexistent love life. “I’m out of practice, and it showed. It was all I could do to carry on a conversation.”