“Who’re you?”

“I’m Tyler Radcliff.”

“Deidre’s husband.”

“That’s right. You must be Leah.”

“What do you want, Mr. Radcliff?”

A smile twitched the edges of his lips. “Seems kinda strange for you to be calling me mister anything. I mean, with you and Deidre being friends, I bet you discussed all kinds of details about our crumbling marriage.”

“Deidre was very private,” Leah said. “We didn’t talk about you.” That wasn’t true.

“She didn’t have a lot of close friends. We were each other’s best friends.”

When Philip had been very angry, his voice could be so soft, his words sound so reasonable. In the early days, she’d tried to reason with him. But no matter what she said, the cord holding back his temper always snapped and his words lashed.

“You’re not talking.”

She took a step back. “I can’t help you, Mr. Radcliff.”

“Of course you can help me! You were Deidre’s friend. Christ, you’re the one who found her body.”

The image of Deidre lying facedown in her own blood flashed in her mind, and she grimaced. “I’ve got to get back inside.”

“You’re done with the morning appointments. I already spoke to the receptionist.”

“When did you call her?”

“This morning. I wanted to catch you alone so we could talk.” He checked his watch. “You’re late. You should have been finished a couple of hours ago. Must have been that hound. She was wrapped in a blue blanket and her owner was holding him close. Looked panicked. Hit by a car?”

The idea that he had been watching the clinic both scared and irritated her. “You were watching the clinic.”

“I wanted to talk to you. And you didn’t answer your phone.”

“You were the unidentified number. You didn’t leave a message.”

“What I need to say is better said face-to-face.”

“I’m not talking to you.” Her anger rose as she pulled her phone from her pocket. Philip would have pulled a stunt like this. “I’m going back inside.”

He blocked her path. “Not before we talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” She glanced at the phone and typed in 9-1-1.

“She ripped my heart from my chest.”

The agony-laced words also reminded her of Philip. He could make her feel so guilty for not loving him. “I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes glistened. “You have to know! She was your friend, and I know how women talk.”

“We didn’t talk.”

“That’s not true. That’s not true.”

“I can’t help you, Mr. Radcliff.”

Large hands fisted and unfisted. “Like hell you can’t.”

So much for politeness. “I’m calling the cops.”

He snarled, “I am the cops.”

Her gaze rose, her finger suspended over the Send button. Memories of Philip talking and joking with the police after she called leered out from the shadows.

“No one is going to believe you. I’m a good cop with a great record.”

“I guess I’ll just have to try real hard to convince them you aren’t such a good guy.”

He advanced toward her. “You’ll look like a fool.”

“You really think I’m afraid of that?” Ghosts of being stabbed stirred her anger. She wouldn’t be bullied by Tyler Radcliff.

As if he read the conviction etched on her face, he doubled down. “They won’t believe you.”

“Yes, they will.”

“Who’s gonna take your word over mine?”

Gravel crunched behind Tyler. “Me.”

Leah looked past Tyler to see Alex Morgan. Dressed in a dark suit, polished shoes, and a dark overcoat that accentuated broad shoulders. His hands in his pockets, his badge and gun caught the afternoon sunlight.

Tyler turned around. “Morgan, this has nothing to do with you.”

“What’re you doing here, Radcliff?” His feet planted, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I came to talk to Leah about Deidre. I want to find the bastard who killed my wife.”

“It’s not your place to talk to Leah or anyone else attached to this case. That’s my job.”

“No way will I be staying on the sidelines. Deidre was my wife. We might have had our problems, but I’m sure, in the end, we would have worked it out.”

Leah studied the tall, broad-shouldered man, wondering if he were lying or simply delusional.

Alex shook his head. “Are you armed?”

“Sure. I always carry.”

Alex’s hand settled on his gun. The holster strap was unclipped. “Step away now. Let me handle Leah.”

“No way, Morgan. Deidre’s murderer is my responsibility. I’m her husband.”

“If you don’t start moving now, I’ll lock you up. And that’s not going to do anyone any good. I know you’ve got a tough reelection coming this fall, and I sure would hate to see you lose your job.”

“You’d really arrest me?”

“Yes, I would.” Conviction strengthened the words as Alex nodded to the gun holstered at Tyler’s side.

Tyler clenched and unclenched his hands. “I’m trying to find out who killed my wife.”

“I got people working on Deidre’s case around the clock. Go home, Tyler. Do yourself a favor and let me handle this. Go home now.”

Tyler glanced back at Leah, his gaze narrowing. “She knows more than she’s saying. I can feel it in my gut.”

Leah held Tyler’s gaze, her anger over this entire situation rising. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Leave,” Alex ordered.

Tyler looked back at Alex. “I’ll be checking in with you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Alex stood his ground, watching as Tyler got in his pickup truck and drove away, the wheels squealing as he accelerated.

She glanced at her phone and the 9-1-1 call she’d never put through. “He told you he had a gun. He told you he’s on some kind of hunt. You just let him go.”

Alex faced her. “I did.”

Emotions burned hotter, and her voice was louder and angrier than she’d intended. “He could have killed Deidre.”

He seemed to chew on unspoken words, wondering if he should share his thoughts with her, before he rejected the notion. “I’m not here to talk about Tyler. I’m here to talk about you.”

His noncommittal response didn’t dampen her temper. She’d guarded her emotions so closely for so long, and now her anger threatened to spill over. “What’s that mean?”

“It means I know about your past. I know what Philip Latimer did to you.”

Her temper reared, pulled at the leash. “Wow, Deidre’s husband is tracking me down and you’ve dug into my past. That’s the kind of thing Philip would have done.”

He shoved a hand in his pocket, seeming to chew on a few more less-pleasant words. “I didn’t do it out of morbid curiosity. I spoke to Deidre’s sister. In our conversation, Philip Latimer’s name came up.”

“What? She must be wrong. How would Deidre know Philip?”

“Deidre’s been a cop with the Nashville Police Department for twelve years.”

“I know.” Pieces she’d never thought to connect scurried together and locked into place. She thought back to when they’d first met. Deidre had approached her. Deidre had invited her out to coffee. Into the running group. She’d initiated it all. Nausea had her stomach contracting. “She worked with Philip.”

“She didn’t work with him, but they knew each other.” His tone remained even, unstirred by emotion. “She ever ask about what happened to you four years ago?”

“No. We didn’t talk about the past.” She rubbed her right thumb over the rough scar on her left palm. Deidre had opened the door to the past a couple of times during a few conversations, but she’d never passed through it. “What do you know?”

“I don’t have the whole picture of Deidre’s past, but I’m putting it together.”

“What do you know about Philip and me?”

“About the attack? I’ve read everything on record.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

She pressed a trembling finger to her temple. “Why should their past connection matter? Philip was killed in a car crash in South Carolina.”

Alex studied her, and she sensed him digging in his heels. “Have you ever read Philip’s autopsy report?”