“Deidre was no fool,” Alex said.

“Whoever did this was smart,” Georgia said. “I’ve found very little forensic data.”

Alex tugged at his cuffs. “I want to hear every detail, but first, I’d like to talk to Leah Carson.”

Brow arched, Deke slid his hand into his pocket and rattled the loose change. “I’d like you involved in this case.”

Georgia raised her gaze to her brother’s. This was an unusual request from Deke, and one he wouldn’t make lightly. Her gaze narrowed, suspecting there was more but knowing other officers were within earshot, stayed silent. The questions would come later.

Alex leveled a cool gaze on his older brother. “I want lead.”

The Morgan family could be surly and, behind closed doors, could fight like cats and dogs. In public, they banded together into a united front. “You’ll need to keep me posted. Daily.”

“Done.”

Alex turned and left, passing several uniformed officers. He paused at the door and turned to the guard-dog officer who’d stopped him initially. “What car is the witness in?”

“The one in the back, next to the ambulance.”

Alex stripped off his rubber gloves and tossed them in a medical waste disposal bin before making his way toward the squad car where Leah sat. The crisp, cold air felt good as it sizzled through his skin to his molten core. Anger could do that. Boil the blood. He’d now use his anger as fuel. It could drive him for days without much sleep or much food.

He moved toward the squad car, keeping his steps purposeful and steady. It never did well to rush in front of others. Rushing telegraphed a lack of control or fear. He never showed either.

As he approached the backseat, he noticed Leah was staring sightlessly toward the row of town houses and the ring of onlookers who’d braved the morning cold to watch the scene unfold.

Her hair was dark, though, judging by the faint blond roots, not her natural color. The other night her hair had been swept just above her shoulders, but today it was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She wore a black jogging suit and clutched run gloves and a knit hat in her hands. A thick scarf, loosened into a long loop, hung around her neck. Her breath was slow and steady, but he sensed she counted each inhale and exhale.

He lightly rapped on the glass to serve warning before he opened the door, but the sound of knuckles against glass made her jump. She turned toward him, her green gaze wide with shock and bloodshot. She smoothed her hands over her running pants and straightened her shoulders, as if mentally collecting the threads of her composure.

He opened the door, the rush of the car’s heater reaching out to him. “Leah.”

“Alex. What’re you doing here?”

He rapped on the barrier separating the back and front seats, and when the officer glanced in the rearview mirror, Alex motioned for him to leave. Scowling, the officer got out of the car.

When the door slammed, Alex said, “Investigating the case.”

Fingers twisted around the black gloves. “She was Nashville Police.”

“I investigate cops.”

“You were investigating Deidre?”

“I’ll be investigating her murder.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Can we talk?” He inclined his head toward the seat, as if waiting for her permission to enter.

She scooted to the far side of the car. “Sure.”

He slid inside, adjusted the folds of his overcoat, and closed the door behind him. His frame was lean, and though he wasn’t as muscular as Deke, he stood several inches taller at six foot three. The long body was not a comfortable fit in any backseat, but the wire barrier walling off the back from the front made the space feel all the smaller. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks. The officer already asked.” She swiped a dark wisp from her face.

“Can I ask you about this morning?” He always led polite, even though it scraped against a natural instinct to badger. Witnesses, even suspects, responded better to soft tones.

She eyed him as if reconciling this politeness to her overly direct date on Saturday. “Deidre and I run together.” She allowed a breath to shudder over her lips. “She never misses a run. Last night we spoke on the phone, and she said she’d go running this morning. When she didn’t show, I got worried. I called her on her home and cell phones a couple of times but there was no answer.”

“Do you always check up on people who miss a training session?”

“No. But Deidre is different. I texted her and she didn’t respond. She always would text back. I just got a bad feeling.”

“So you came by the house?”

She twisted her gloves in her hands before releasing them and flattening her palms on her thighs. “I don’t live all that far from here, and I had the morning off so I thought I’d check.”

“How did you meet Deidre?” Her nails were cut short but were neat and polished. She wasn’t wearing perfume, but there was a faint hint of soap that blended with the fresh air from her run.

“The gym. She mentioned the running group. I joined in just after the first of the year. It became kind of a New Year’s resolution for me. Fresh start.”

“Why did you need a fresh start?”

Her gaze rose abruptly, as if she hadn’t realized what she’d said. “Doesn’t everyone start over at the new year?”

“I suppose they try.”

She arched a brow. “I was doing more than trying. I even quit smoking.”

“I don’t picture you as a smoker.”

“Nervous habit.”

Around the animals she was relaxed. That smile she’d tossed Tracker had melted some of the ice. But she’d been a different person in the restaurant. Nervous. Jumpy. As if she expected trouble. He did that to people. Set them on edge. And he might have taken her reaction personally if not for the scars marring her hands. Defensive wounds.

Alex relaxed back against the seat. “I heard Deidre had been an avid runner for years. Apparently, she was always talking about the races she ran. She started this group last fall.”

That tweaked a small smile. “She was trying to convert me, but I’m not such a good recruit.”

“You look like you’re in good shape.”

“Not really. I needed a goal. I’m tackling a half marathon.”

“Why the half marathon?”

“Just because I want to know I can, I suppose.” Her cheeks flushed a pale pink.

A small lift of her shoulders reminded him of a defiant child’s. She was a grown woman. Why summon defiance? “How has the training been going?”

A slight shake of her head negated her words. “It’s going. I’ll never win a race, but the plan is to finish, not win.”

“So Deidre didn’t show up for practice and you came by the house?”

Some of the hard-gained luster in her cheeks faded. “The front door was locked, but the back door was ajar.”

“It was?”

“Yes. I pushed it completely open and called out to Deidre. When she didn’t answer, I peeked inside and saw her laying on the floor.” She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and drew in several calming breaths. “I got sick.”

“I heard.”

She shook her head, clearly embarrassed they’d been discussing her. “And then I called the police.”

“Did you see anyone leaving the property?”

“No. When I saw her, I kinda got tunnel vision. After I got sick, I ran out of the house. I don’t even remember talking to the police.”

“Do you know if Deidre was having trouble with anyone?”

“She said she was going through a divorce. She told me her ex-husband was giving her a hard time. She thought he keyed her car. She also said he made her sign over their property to him or he wouldn’t sign the final decree. She was angry. And, I think, embarrassed by it all.”

Alex knew of Deidre’s husband, Tyler Radcliff. Good reputation. But putting a best foot forward in public did not ensure a happy home life. “No one in the group had an issue with her?”

“No. No one.” She smoothed a small hand over her ponytail, and he noticed the small scar on her palm. Healed, but too reminiscent of Deidre’s.