Page 48 of The Killer She Knew

Nodding, Ava no longer looked as though she’d rather be in any other room than the one Leigh stood in. “Can I visit my mom?”

“That’s up to her,” she said. “But, if she approves, yeah. Anytime we can arrange it.”

Mere minutes had passed since she’d sought Ava out, but the entire world had shifted in that time. And a little bit more of Leigh’s damaged heart had pieced itself back together.

TWENTY-NINE

Durham, New Hampshire

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

9:11 a.m.

She hated police stations.

A nauseating film clung to her every time she had to be here. Durham PD’s station wasn’t much different from the one she’d spent countless hours in back home. It wasn’t the buildings themselves. It was the empty promises. The values every officer was supposed to live by yet failed to uphold when it came to getting justice for the people they claimed to serve. It was the massive hole in her heart she couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times she told herself this time was different.

It wasn’t different.

It’d been two days since Durham police had arrested Dean. His parents had passed away in his freshman year. He had no siblings or family to rely on or to get him a defense attorney. She was all he had left, and she wasn’t going to leave him to fight this alone. But the investigating detective in charge hadrefused to give her any information over the phone despite her connection to Professor Morrow. He hadn’t been any help either. Be patient, he’d told her. The criminal justice system takes time.

Well, Dean didn’t have time. Because at a certain point, every officer in this station and every citizen in this town would start believing the lies departments like this spewed to reach their arrest quotas. She’d seen it before. Witnessed the corruption and sickness that took hold when authority and assumed power was left unchecked. People like her father had paid the price for that power. Especially with a case of this magnitude. Small town, big murder. The accusations had already started spreading. Dean was on the verge of losing everything. His scholarship to attend UNH, the research opportunities in the biomedical lab, the job offers, his friends and professors.

But she could stop it.

She hadn’t been able to save her father. She could save Dean.

Leigh approached the front desk sergeant, a bleached-blonde woman who could only peck at her keyboard with the inch-long neon nails. “Excuse me. I need to speak with the investigating detective in charge of Teshia Elborne’s case.”

“Those are some big words for a pretty little thing like you. You watch thatDatelineshow?” A snap of gum scorched along Leigh’s nerves as the officer gave her barely more than a quick assessment at her lack of an answer. Passing her a clipboard, the desk sergeant nodded toward the chairs lined up against the wall. “Sign in and take a seat. The detective is in the middle of an interview. He’ll be with you when he gets a minute.”

Sign in. Leigh clutched the pen. Frozen. Her name hadn’t done her any favors back home. In fact, it’d made things much, much worse. She scribbled something unintelligible in the boxnext to today’s date. In the end, her name wouldn’t matter. It was what she had to say.

Stepping back, she took the nearest chair. And waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. She’d miss her psychology class if she didn’t leave soon. This was more important. This was a man’s life. She counted off her heartbeats, just as she had in a lobby almost identical to this one to pass the time waiting for police to realize they had the wrong man.

After forty minutes, the investigating detective shoved through the door in his wrinkled brown suit with the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his skin and breath. His button-down stretched too tight across his midsection. Not a man who saw field work often. He was most likely betting this case would be the one to see him through to retirement. “You here about the Elborne case?”

“Yes.” Leigh sucked in a breath, but her confidence had leaked with every minute she’d had to sit in that damn uncomfortable chair. Getting to her feet, she steadied her voice. “I came here for information on Dean Groves. Officers arrested him two days ago, and no one will tell me when he’s being released.”

The detective’s jaw tightened. That was it. The only reaction he was going to give her. “Now why in the name of all that is holy would we release the man suspected of killing Ms. Elborne?”

“Dean Groves didn’t kill anyone.” She kept her head held high. She could do this. For Dean. She’d lied to police once. What difference would another make if it saved the man she loved? “And I can prove it.”

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

5:23 p.m.

Leigh stood over the body.

Pale. Bloated. And very dead.

Almost exactly how she felt. She should drag the remains into the classroom where Ford was sleeping. Would serve him right for putting it in her line of sight when she’d come around after surviving that hellscape in the basement. But she didn’t want to cause any more damage she wouldn’t be able to explain to the ME or disrespect the victim. “Who are you?”

The swelling in the victim’s face hid any recognizable features. Lips four times the size of normal, a too-wide nose that didn’t fit in the man’s face. Even the ears were out of proportion. The man’s hair was dark with signs of silver. Natural, from what she could see. Clean shaven. Took good care of his nails. No wedding ring. None of the staff knew who this man was and what he’d been doing in the tunnels beneath Thompson Hall. There wasn’t much for her to decipher any patterns, habits, or clues as to who this man had been. Or even when he’d died.

Leigh was careful prying his eyelids open, looking for that telltale irritation.

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