Page 42 of The Killer She Knew

“That’s not fair. I was covered in goo.” Her attention caught on a section of his hair, and Leigh struggled to hold in her laugh. Made sense. He’d gone into that room after her and fought the killer to save her life. There was no escaping the sludge. She wanted to kiss him for that. Wanted to push this as far as they could without crossing the line between professionals. “In fact, I’m not the only one.”

“What?” Ford reached for his hair, coming away with preserved mold. “Damn it. I thought I got it all.”

“Serves you right for coming after me when I told you to stay in the corridor.” Her smile got too heavy. Leigh raised herself onto the toes of borrowed sneakers and pressed herself to him. Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling his heartbeat—strong and sure and even—beneath her touch.

Ford notched his chin down, seemingly unable to ignore the pull between them. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.” His voice went gravelly; it told her exactly how much she affected him.

She pressed her mouth to his. Hunger tore through her, the kind that couldn’t be sated with one of the candy bars he’d stolen from the vending machine. Leigh slanted her mouth into his, inviting him deeper. Needing him to consume every hurt inch of her and make it better. Her heart shot into her throat as his thumbs shifted over the waistband of her sweats and skimmed her stomach. She arched into him. More.

Ford took the lead. Latching on to her hips, he spun them until her back hit the nearest wall and hauled her mouth level with his. His groan urged her to hike her legs around his waist and lock her ankles as the marshal pressed in closer. Right where she needed him. He kissed her as though he were an entire meal and he’d been starving up to this point. Furiously with no mercy. Her lips—and the rest of her—burned at the contact, but she wanted this. She wanted him. The connectionthat made her feel a little bit more put together after life had shattered her in every regard.

She hadn’t experienced that since… She didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think abouthim. Not while Ford’s hands were pulling these sensations from her. Her resulting moan echoed through the corridor.

The fluorescent tube above them exploded.

Leigh jerked back as hundreds of pieces of white glass hit the tile around them. She brought her hands to shield her face. Once the shower of glass ceased, Leigh unlocked her hold on Ford and tried to see the damage around his massive frame. A surge of joy flickered within her. “The power must’ve come back on. Maybe the tube couldn’t handle the surge.”

Ford held on to her hips until she managed to get her feet under her. He stepped aside, testing the nearest light switch. Nothing happened. The marshal scanned the corridor. Absolutely still. “I don’t think so.”

There. Amid the shattered pieces of glass. Leigh maneuvered around the marshal, picking up the rock. It wasn’t anything special but said so much. Someone else had been here. Watching them. A sick knot tightened in her gut. “We should talk to Professor Morrow again. Seeing as how we recovered his driver’s license, he’s the only one of the killer’s targets that’s still alive. He may know who’s behind this.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Ford didn’t give her any room for argument. “I’m going to take a look around.”

Except she didn’t want to leave him to face whatever this was alone. Leigh squared off with him, every sense she owned on high alert. Watched the shadows as if they would come alive. She could still feel the imprint of those gloved hands around her throat. Still feel the life draining from her bubble by bubble. “What happened in that room?”

“I was counting the seconds you were gone, Leigh. And when three full minutes passed, I knew something was wrong. So I dove into that room. That’s when I saw him behind you, strangling you. You managed to get away, but he was coming after you, and I had a chance to stop him. We fought. Long enough for you to make it out, but I had a choice to make.” Regret singed his voice. “I chose you.”

She didn’t remember anyone else there. But Ford had somehow managed to save her life and recover a body the killer might not have wanted them to find. And barely escaped. With a nod, Leigh pushed as much gratitude into her expression as she could while ignoring that fired-up part of her that wanted him to press her back against the wall and continue to distract her from this case. She’d never had this problem before. Never wanted to step back into the world of dating and relationships and having to shave above the knee. What was it about Max Ford that called to every primal need she’d buried over the years?

She navigated back to the second classroom branching off the west side of the lobby and shoved inside. Professor Morrow had quieted his protests over the past few hours, but the headache that surged when she set sight on him was enough to make her reconsider coming in alone.

Morrow wrenched his head up from where he sat at the bottom of the amphitheater-like classroom, one wrist lowered at an angle and cuffed to the leg of the table centered between him and his students. The papery skin beneath the cuff had grown angry. He’d obviously tried to pry his way out, but his voice was much softer than she expected. “Leigh.”

There were parts of him she still recognized after all these years. His clothing, for one. His ego, too. Others not so much. She hadn’t been prepared for the added lines around his eyes and mouth or the prominent gray in his beard and hair. Had he always been this… worn? Or was that another layer of the maskhe insisted on wearing? Leigh fisted the handcuff key in her sweats. She didn’t like seeing him like this. Because no matter what role he’d played in the deaths of two—now three—students, Pierce Morrow had been one of the few who’d believed she could solve her brother’s case. And she had. With things she’d learned right here in this classroom.

“Your driver’s license was found with a collection of others the killer tried to destroy in a container of acid here on campus. Trophies.”

The words were merely whispered but held so much power. “How many others?”

“Five.” She dragged a chair from the other side of the table and took a seat. Her bones hurt, but for the first time since stepping foot back onto this campus, she enjoyed the familiarity of conversations like this with her old mentor. The two of them working a case together. Except he hadn’t been in cuffs then, and she’d been nothing more than a naive freshman in love with her first real boyfriend. “Forensic techs were able to identify yours, but they’re still working on the others. From what we can tell, four of them most likely belong to the unsub’s previous victims whose identities he became. We believe that’s what he intended to do with you.”

“Why me?” Morrow shook his head. “What makes me so special?”

“That’s a good question.” She studied the man in front of her. Trying to find something recognizable in his movements. In his way of speech. Then again, she might not be the best person to assess him. Their relationship had been… strained over the years. Limited to video calls and emails with months of no contact passing in the blink of an eye. The killer Ford had described became the people he targeted in every way. Career, lifestyle, routines, social circles. “Have you come across a killerlike this before? One who becomes his victims? Lives their lives?”

Another shake of the professor’s head. He wasn’t as polished as he had been yesterday standing in the corner of the president’s office beaming at her. This man had lost everything he’d valued in the span of twenty-four hours, and it showed. “No. Nothing like this. Whoever killed Teshia Elborne and Alice… He’s on a level I’ve never imagined possible.”

There was almost a hint of admiration in that statement.

“How far do you think this chameleon would go to become his victims?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking Morrow. Leigh leaned forward in her chair. She considered his earlier question. Why him? Why this identity? What need did Pierce Morrow fulfil for this particular killer? “How far would you go to become someone else?”

“Still think I’m the one killing students, Agent Brody?” The question didn’t hold any hint of emotion. As though Morrow had accepted her as the expert in their field. No argument.

No. She didn’t think he was a killer. He couldn’t have killed Tamra Hopkins while cuffed to this table, and he certainly hadn’t been the one to try to drown her in the basement.

“You’ve been hiding your failures for years without raising any red flags here on campus or in the field. As far as your network knows, you’re the one they come to for answers.” Stolen answers. But answers nonetheless. The ultimate long con. Leigh let the theory take shape, molding it out loud. “What if the killer we’re hunting saw that in you? Even admired it. He’s a fraud, too. He could’ve been drawn to that familiarity.”

Morrow’s voice went breathy. “What are you saying?”

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