Page 5 of The Killer She Knew

Question was, who was it meant for?

While it looked as though Alice Dietz had been killed in the same manner as the victim during Leigh’s freshman year, they wouldn’t have any solid connections until the results of the autopsy came back. Her nerves took a backseat as she recalled any detail she could about the man she’d considered a lighthouse in the storm that was her life back then. Maybe that was why arresting Ava’s mother for murder hadn’t hurt as much as she’d expected. She’d already been through this all once before.

“Groves would be forty years old today. He’s highly intelligent and strategic, and professionally intimate in biomedical and toxicology. Investigators at the time were able totrace the arsenic and cyanide used to poison a victim in 2006 back to the biology lab where Groves spent a good amount of his nights. The victim, Teshia Elborne, was his ex-girlfriend. From what police had been able to put together, the breakup was anything but amicable when he discovered she’d been cheating on him for months before her death.”

Leigh packed all those pieces—clues—she’d tried to ignore into a dark box at the back of her mind. She slid her hands into her slacks. All too aware she had nothing there to ground herself to in the moment.

“Groves was arrested for the crime, but no charges were brought against him as a fellow student alibied him for the night of Elborne’s murder. Upon release, he disappeared off local, state, and federal agency radars.”

“Disappeared to where?” one of the Durham PD officers asked.

Wouldn’t she like to know? Finding him certainly hadn’t consumed hours and hours of sleepless nights in the weeks following his disappearance. And he certainly hadn’t invaded her dreams since.

“At the time, investigators believed Groves managed to secure himself a new identity and has been using the alias since. We don’t know where he’s been residing, where he works, or if he’s even returned to Durham. He has no living family, and he’s never bought property, registered a vehicle, or filed taxes under his own name. While suspecting Groves would be the easy route for this latest murder, it’s possible whoever killed Alice Dietz may be trying to use the Teshia Elborne case to make a name for themselves or attract our attention.”

“I think it’s pretty damn clear there’s a connection between Ms. Dietz and the poor girl who was killed under the watch of my predecessor, Ms. Brody.” The president of the university sat forward in his over-cushioned leather chair, elbows on theedge of a desk that could swallow him whole. Pure gray hair swooped into the president’s face as he set cold blue eyes on her. Compared to the professor positioned behind him, the university president held himself to a strict standard of appearance and control. “Groves was never caught. Now he’s back to rub it in your faces, and one of my students paid the price.”

Dread suctioned her stomach to her spine. “It’s Agent Brody, sir. And it’s too premature to make assumptions at this point. We won’t know if there’s a connection until the autopsy results are finalized by the ME, but the FBI, the Marshals Service, and Durham police are considering every possibility. Of course, our number one priority is the safety of your administration, staff, and student body during this investigation.”

“How? How are you going to protect anyone on this campus? Police couldn’t charge him back then because you, of all people, gave Groves an alibi.” Tension radiated down the president’s neck. He had to tip his head back to keep his hair out of his face. Thin, weathered skin told her his life was harsh, and sitting behind this desk hadn’t been part of the plan or even close to a dream job. None of that was her problem, however. She was here to do a job. Not stroke his ego. “Are we supposed to believe you’re here out of the goodness of your heart? Maybe you’re here on Groves’s agenda.”

Heaviness shifted into her legs, pinning her in place. She was standing in front of the chief of police back in her hometown all over again. On display. Answering for crimes she hadn’t committed.

“You realize you just accused a federal agent of aiding and abetting a fugitive.” Ford’s reaction gave voice to the shocked expressions pasted on everyone else’s faces. The marshal shoved to stand, out of place with the academics in this room and barely in place with the officers. “Do you have any proof Agent Brodyis guilty of misconduct, or are you projecting your fears on everyone else in the room? Because I will personally vouch for the work she and her team have done if anyone has a problem with her being here.”

Her blood warmed at the defense. People weren’t jumping at the opportunity to stand up for her considering her background, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Ford was the kind of man who kept his word. In every regard. The weight of his attention grounded her from spiraling at the thought, and a thread of confidence returned. “What Marshal Ford means to say is I have a long history of consulting with law enforcement on cases similar to this. While I may have a personal connection to the Elborne case and this university, we are not certain Dean Groves is involved here. We will do whatever it takes to find the killer responsible for Alice Dietz’s murder.”

The president sank back in his chair. It was always the men at the top who couldn’t handle confrontation. The ones who folded the quickest when the room didn’t sway their way, and she couldn’t help but nod gratitude toward Ford. “Marshal Ford.”

She sidestepped to give the marshal room.

Ford raised his phone, screen bright. “Each agency will receive the incident reports of previous victims the USMS believes to have a connection to this latest murder. Four victims, not including Alice Dietz. Our suspect not only murders his victims, he becomes them by altering his appearance and manner of speaking, using their identification, embracing habits and routines, and integrating himself into their lives over a matter of weeks. If Alice Dietz’s murder is connected to my investigation, there’s a chance our killer has already become someone new. Someone we wouldn’t suspect.”

A tree limb slammed against the oversized window behind the president’s desk in a burst of noise that brought the entire room to life.

Every nerve in Leigh’s body fired at the impact. Her heart rate took longer than it should have to settle, and from the reach of several officers toward their sidearms, she hadn’t been the only one. Trees swayed violently through the glass. The storm was picking up. Potentially destroying evidence in and around their crime scene.

“Campus police have been asked to conduct student and staff interviews concerning Ms. Dietz’s whereabouts and movements over the past week leading up to her disappearance and report back. I want a timeline of where she went, which classes she attended, and any significant relationships in her life,” Ford said. “Durham PD, the fact our killer used the university as his preferred location to dump a body makes me think he won’t stray far. I want a grid pattern search up to three miles around campus while forensics pulls apart our crime scene.”

“The storm is going to make that hard, Marshal,” one of the officers said as rain started ticking against the window glass.

“I believe in you.” Marshal Ford turned compelling dark eyes on Leigh. “Agent Brody, you’re familiar with the Elborne case and the way serial offenders think. Any words of advice?”

Leigh raised her chin a fraction of an inch, memorizing the faces in this room, and settled her attention on one. The professor still watching her from the corner of the office. “Watch your backs. No one else will.”

FOUR

Durham, New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 9

10:04 a.m.

She was going to suffocate.

Mauve paint darkened the already small dorm room. Builder-grade laminate floors attempted to add some lightness and color, but this place was still as depressing as Leigh remembered.

What was it about college dorms aiming to suck the life out of the residents inside them? Alice Dietz’s room was identical to the hundred others in the building except Adams Tower West was slightly newer and catered solely to second-year students. Two loft-style bunkbeds took up each side of the room, dressers tucked underneath to save space. A single closet took up position across the room with a motel-style private bathroom off to the right. Two windows met in the middle of the far wall, each angled toward each other to create a false bump-out and the illusion of more space. Three mattresses. Three roommates.

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