Page 11 of The Killer She Knew

“All right. So we have a body in the morgue that’s been presumably cleaned and bleached of evidence, a crime scene under a hurricane warning, and no surveillance to determine the route the killer took on and off campus when dumping Alice Dietz’s body.” And an eighteen-year-old cold case that might connected to their victim. “What about witnesses?”

“University police are still in the process of collecting statements,” Ford said. “As of right now, most people don’t even recognize our victim. The few who do seemed to go out of their way to avoid her, especially in class. Apparently, Alice Dietz was very passionate about making her opinion known.”

The University of New Hampshire was home to more than 15,000 students during any given semester. More in fall and spring than summer. It would be impossible to interview them all.

“Her roommates were under the impression she’s been sneaking around with a boyfriend she didn’t want anyone to know about,” Leigh said. “From what Tamra has told me, it’s possible he threatened her. Last either of them saw her was Saturday night, which means Alice disappeared between then and Monday morning when Jeana went to campus police.” Leigh tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. That left two days unaccounted for in their timeline. “The medical examiner’s office should have a backup generator, but they will be using it sparingly. Autopsies won’t be their priority. They’ll turn their focus to protecting the building from flooding, so there’s very little chance we’ll have Alice Dietz’s autopsy results soon.”

Mere hours into this investigation, they were dead in the water. “Have you heard from Alice Dietz’s parents?”

“Campus police notified them of her death last night.” Ford slipped his hands into his pockets. “They’re trying to get here as fast as they can from California, but with the storm it’s likely it’ll be a couple days before we hear from them.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

A warning signal telling her to move. To run.

That she was being watched.

“What do we do?” Ford’s question was overrun by an increase in noise.

Leigh caught movement at the end of the corridor, over the heads of the group of students sheltering in place. A man. Standing perfectly still in the commotion of crisis. Intense, near-black eyes locked on hers. His close-cropped hair and height set him apart from every other person in the room. The angled jawline, the tendoned bunch of his shoulders. Familiar. Terrifying. Her chest constricted. One second. Two. A rush of confusion—and something more she didn’t want to identify—had her taking a step forward. “Dean.”

“Agent Brody?” Ford took position directly in front of her, cutting off her view. And broke the spell. “Leigh?”

She sidestepped the marshal and scoured the corridor. Blood drained from her upper body, cementing her in place. He was gone. Damn it. “Did you see him?”

Ford followed her gaze, twisting at the hips. “See who?”

“Dean Groves.” She was sure of it. “He was standing there. Just… staring at me.”

Challenging her.

“Groves is here?” Ford pulled his radio from his belt and pressed it to his jawline. “Possible suspect sighting in Thompson Hall, main floor. All units, suspect is Dean Groves, dark hair, approximately six foot four and forty years old. Be advised. He is potentially armed and dangerous.”

Leigh didn’t catch the rest of Ford’s instructions. Hesitation loosened its stranglehold on her body. She turned back to Ava. “Don’t go anywhere.” Then she rushed toward the location she’d spotted Dean. Logic slammed into place as students clogged the corridor. Her heart rate spiked as adrenaline dumped into her veins.

She shoved through the congested hallway, nearly losing her footing from the resisting force of students. The main hallway ended in a T. Giving her two options. One mistake, and she’d lose him. Instinct had her carving left and picking up the pace. There weren’t as many faculty and stranded students in this part of the building. They’d mostly kept to the lobby. Dean would’ve chosen it for the pure chance of getting away. “FBI! Move!”

Bystanders parted down the middle and flattened themselves along the walls on either side of her. Questions and shouts reached her ears from behind, but she didn’t have the attention span to decipher them for anything other than surprise.

She wasn’t going to let him get away this time.

She’d waited too long for this. For him.

Classrooms begged for her to take the time to search each individually as she passed, but Dean’s need to escape would override his desire to stay hidden. He wouldn’t risk getting pinned down by the storm of police closing in on this building. “Dean!”

She was in pursuit. Closing in. She could feel it.

The single glass door ahead slammed closed fifty feet in front of her. An exit on the west side of the building. It should’ve been locked when the shelter in place order had gone into effect. The backs of her thighs burned as she pushed herself to catch up with him.

“Brody, wait!” Ford was behind her. Trying to give her an advantage if faced with an armed suspect. But she wouldn’t stop.

Not until Dean Groves was in handcuffs.

Until she made him pay for everything he’d put her through.

Leigh threw herself into the door’s crossbar and shoved free of the building. It ricocheted off the brick as she ran straight out into the storm. Water spit against her face and drenched her all over again.

But there was no one there.

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