Page 17 of The Killer She Knew

Leigh handed off the cyanide as the scale reset. “Try the arsenic.”

Ford crouched slightly at the knees. “It’s underweight, too.”

But they couldn’t take the scale’s results at face value. There were several factors that could contribute to the measurements coming in underweight. Maybe the researchers weren’t as careful to mark their last uses as the logs suggested. Maybe the scale was slightly off or another scale in the lab had been used instead. Human error had the potential to destroy investigations and studies alike. They couldn’t discount any of it.

Leigh grabbed for another container from the closet without reading the label. She could’ve been handling an explosive compound or a highly corrosive acid for all she knew, but her need for confirmation exceeded self-preservation at the moment. “Measure this one.”

Ford did as she asked without hesitation, keeping both the arsenic and the cyanide close by. They would be registered as evidence, handed over to the forensic techs to pull prints and test against the poison in the victim’s bloodstream. “The log and weight match.”

“This one next.” She pulled another container free. Then another. And another. The next four measurement logs matched the weight on the scale down to the ounce. The limited free space on the desk had vanished in her attempt to find another explanation.

“You want to try another one?” Ford straightened. Waiting. No judgment. No hint of frustration or anger. He was willing to go through every container in this damn lab if it helped find Alice Dietz’s killer, but there was no point. They had their answer, didn’t they?

“No. I think we’ve addressed any potential errors in measurement.” That was all she’d been trying to do. To prove the poison had been sourced from this lab. And they’d accomplishedtheir goal. A trickle of sweat collected at the back of her neck. Giving her a glimpse of that dark thread of hope she’d tucked away all those years ago, the one that wanted to convince her Dean Groves hadn’t turned into a murderer. She hadn’t realized until then how desperately she’d been trying to unbury it. To sever it for good or keep the old fight going, she wasn’t sure. “We were right. The killer broke into this lab and stole what he needed to kill Alice Dietz. He’s replicating the Elborne case as much as possible. Grab some of those Ziploc bags over there on the desk and tag the containers. Forensics might be able to pull prints off the lids.”

Leigh let the university president take a back seat to replace all the other containers on their respective shelves. The walls closed in around them as Ford utilized a box of bags to collect the containers. A bitter burn drove up her nose as she helped set the last of the containers back on the closet shelf. Each of the white, labeled canisters were supposed to be sealed to preserve the compounds inside and protect users from accidentally exposing themselves to something potentially hazardous. She shouldn’t have been sensing anything in this closet. “Do you smell that?”

Ford finished sealing the bags with the arsenic and cyanide and closed the distance between them. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It smells like… battery acid?” Biting and sour. An olfactory warning to keep your distance. Her father had taught her how to change the battery in their family car when she’d been seven years old. How to jump one, too. Joel Brody was the kind of man who’d never wanted his children to rely on anyone but themselves. He’d spent hours out on the driveway with his head in the middle of an engine between DIY house projects, and she and her brother had been forced to absorb those lessons against their will. She knew that smell better thanher brother’s body odor on those hot weekends in the driveway. “And plastic.”

Ford angled her out of the closet, scanning the shelves. “I don’t see anything leaking. Could be coming through the vents.”

No. The odor wasn’t as strong in the open. All she could smell was the slight hint of antiseptic she’d noted when they’d come in. “Do researchers work with acids in this lab?”

“Of course,” the university president said. “Several. But I can’t imagine any of our researchers being careless enough to ignore safety protocols.”

That was what she was afraid of. Leigh shoved her way back in the closet, under Ford’s arm as he pulled another row of canisters. And found what she was looking for in the back corner. “That one.”

Hesitation gripped hard as she considered the thin layer of latex between the skin of her fingertips and what could potentially burn a hole through a human body. “Get me some gloves.”

Ford’s body heat vanished, leaving her cold along one side. She hadn’t realized how close she’d let him get. How she’d gotten used to his proximity. He returned with a thicker pair of gloves. “Be careful. We have no idea who might’ve tampered with the container.”

She was careful. Moving slower than she wanted to go. The container itself wasn’t nearly as heavy as she expected, but the burn in her nostrils intensified to the point she had to open her mouth for some relief. It didn’t help. The fumes coming off the acid drove down her throat. “The lid is loose.”

That was why she could smell it. Whoever had used it last had been careless. Not one of the researchers. Everything else in the lab was pristine. No. This was something else. Leigh pried the lid free and took a step back. Bubbles foamed toward the lipthen out and over onto the desk. The reaction was immediate. “There’s something in there.”

Something to cause the reaction.

She tried to get a better view without letting the fumes touch her face.

“What is that?” Ford asked.

She went for a pair of tongs stored upside down in one of the pencil holders at the computer station and grabbed for the foreign object. The remnants of a golden bear stalked across the near-melted rectangle of plastic.

“A driver’s license?” The marshal adjusted his glasses to get a better look while the university president kept his distance. As though merely being in the same room could smother him with guilt.

“Multiple driver’s licenses.” Leigh didn’t have anywhere to set the license down, replacing it back inside the container, and grabbed for another. This one was different. She could still make out hints of a wide smile and tanned skin. “All from states the suspect you’re chasing has killed in.”

ELEVEN

Durham, New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 9

5:05 p.m.

Their killer was growing desperate.

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