“This unsub chooses his victims because they offer some kind of value to him,” Leigh said. “I think your value was what you do best as a professor. He was looking for a mentor, and he found it. In you.”
She kept her gaze locked on Morrow’s and saw exactly what she was looking for. Fear. “So tell me, Professor Morrow. Who have you been teaching to get away with murder?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Color drained from Morrow’s face. The pulse at the base of his neck thudded too hard for a man of his age merely sitting in a chair. Enough that Leigh spotted it from her position. He shook his head, maybe trying to convince himself more than her.
“I think you do.” Leaning forward in her chair, Leigh refused to break eye contact. It was one of the lessons he’d taught her all those years ago. To never give up the power in an interrogation. “I think you know exactly who’s behind these murders. I think you know what he wants, and I think you got more than you bargained for in whatever arrangement you two had. Who is he, Pierce?”
The professor’s bottom lip trembled. Just before he pulled himself together. “I want my lawyer.”
TWENTY-SIX
Durham, New Hampshire
Thursday, October 10
2:31 p.m.
Leigh shoved through the classroom door into the corridor, nearly taking out Ford with the momentum. “He wants his lawyer.”
While the professor wasn’t technically under arrest considering they couldn’t get him to the Durham PD station for processing, Morrow had shut down completely.
“I take it your conversation didn’t go well.” Ford’s ability to both make light of their ever-darkening situation and drive her up the wall at the same time had reached new heights. He fell into line beside her. A support she hadn’t had in a long time.
She stepped back into the lobby, heavier than ever after noting the lost stares cutting straight to her. Students and staff alike questioned her without so much as saying a word. They’d moved from flat-out anger to fear, but Leigh wasn’t good at offering words of comfort. She couldn’t even do it forher own adopted daughter. “Was forensics able to find prints or identifying markers on the chemicals we collected from the basement?”
“Nothing. The killer ensured to wipe everything clean, but even if we still had access to that room, which we don’t”—Ford hit her with a hard stare as if to remind her they would not be going back down into the basement until pumps could be utilized—“we most likely couldn’t get anything new from it.”
She didn’t have any intention of going back down there. Ever. The memories she had now of her time in the basement would last a lifetime. Why was it anytime they got their hands on a lead, it was ceremoniously ripped from their grasp? Leigh targeted the university president, cornered between two other professors and who she assumed was his executive assistant. “Have you been able to verify the list of key codes used to access the biomedical lab between two nights ago and yesterday morning when Alice Dietz was found dead?”
Color fled the president’s face. “I’m sorry, Agent Brody, but without power, I’m not able to access the system. The access I have is through my desktop computer in my office.”
Of course not. Because that would’ve been too easy. “What about security, campus police, or other researchers? Would they be able to get to it from their tablets or phones?”
“I’m not exactly sure what our security team or campus police have access to, Agent Brody, but the other researchers won’t be of any help. Each code is kept private to ensure approved access to the lab and its equipment.”
Leigh notched her head to meet the marshal’s gaze. “Ford, let’s get those two campus officers down here. Ask them if they can get us a list of key codes.”
“You want to pull them off babysitting duty?” His eyebrows arched toward his hairline.
Tamra Hopkins’s body. The headache pulsing at the back of her skull urged her to close her eyes. Okay, maybe it had something to do with almost dying, too. But for now, she had to scramble for all the little pieces of this case and try to hold them together. The lobby doors shuddered as if to emphasize no one was going anywhere anytime soon. Lines of water branched across the outer door glass, thickening and thinning with the onslaught, and snuck under the barrier.
“Leigh?” Ford lowered his voice. “Agent Brody.”
Case. Right. Damn, she was tired. Leigh rubbed at her head. “Ask them if they can get a list of key codes used in the biomedical lab.”
“Sure.” He reached for her, as though to steady her in case she lost consciousness, but her pride wouldn’t sweep her off her feet. “Are you all right?”
Was she all right? Hard to tell between the lack of calories, the lack of oxygen for those terrifying three minutes, and the lack of sleep in the past two days. She refused to cross her arms over her chest as she normally would under someone else’s scrutiny. “I’m good.”
“I asked one of the officers to keep an eye on our dead guy from the basement down the hall and the other on Tamra’s remains. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He headed for the stairs leading up to the second level.
Lighting flashed in the corner of her eye. Then the boom of thunder sounded overhead. A few gasps reached her ears. A collective bracing for the worst. Damn it, she didn’t know how to do this. To… make it seem as if she had everything under control. When was the last time things were under control? Before someone she’d trusted to help her solve her brother’s case had tried to kill her? Before she’d been told the cancer had come back? Before a murderer had asked her to adopt her thenfourteen-year-old daughter? Her entire life was a case study in not having control.
These kids were scared. Ava was scared. People were dying, and none of them—not even Leigh—knew why. She faced off with the university president, and a rush of dizziness nearly knocked her off balance. Leigh’s hand hit the wall beside her. Apparently, she’d been ignoring her body’s needs long enough. There was about to be a mutiny. She buried the urge to shake her head. Not wanting to upset her brain any more than she already had. “Marshal Ford said something about an emergency radio. Were you able to find batteries?”
“The marshal didn’t tell you?” Confusion contorted the president’s face. “We replaced the batteries. We gave him the radio to contact the local Marshals office for help.”
“Oh.” Leigh didn’t remember that part of her and Ford’s conversation. But she wasn’t remembering a whole lot at the moment. Like a sudden fog had rolled in and started shutting down her executive functions. She needed to sleep, but one could argue she needed to catch a killer more. “I’ll check in with him.”