Page 51 of The Killer She Knew

Ford leaned away from the table, as though the article would burn him if he held on to it too long. “Well, I think it’s safe to say you win the ‘tell me something real’ game.”

“Nobody can know, Max.” She hadn’t meant the words to sound so… desperate. But that was what she was. Had she made a mistake in trusting him? She didn’t think so, but she’d tasted betrayal in so many ways. “If the authorities learned my brother is still alive, if they found out who he is?—”

“Hey.” He reached for her then, set his hand over hers with a slight squeeze. It was a sliver of contact compared to the full-on make-out session they’d conducted in the corridor but just as impactful on her body temperature. “Nobody will find out from me. I give you my word.”

“Thank you.” The chill still clinging to her skin after what happened down in that basement eased. Her body couldn’t get enough. Of his touch, his mouth. Of him. She’d felt like this once, and it’d blown up in her face. But cutting herself off from a connection she craved wasn’t sustainable either.

The door swung inward over Ford’s shoulder.

An outline took shape in the frame, all too familiar.

Ford twisted around at the clear panic in her face. Too late. The butt of a gun slammed into the side of the marshal’s head, and he hit the floor.

Leigh shoved to her feet and unholstered her weapon. Her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest as the past collided with the present. Same color hair. Same angled jawline. Same dark eyes.

“You.” She took aim at Dean Groves.

“Hi, Leigh.” He smiled at her, weapon still in hand. “I think it’s time for you and me to have a talk.”

THIRTY-ONE

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

6:15 p.m.

“Well, this is awkward.” Dean Groves raised his hands in surrender. Standing there as if he hadn’t just knocked a United States marshal unconscious, potentially killed eight people, and become the country’s number one fugitive. “I kinda hoped you would be excited to see me after all these years.”

“Awkward.” Leigh motioned at him with the barrel of her weapon to move back. Away from Ford. She rounded the table at one end and crouched beside the marshal without taking her attention off Dean. Testing his pulse, she let relief hit her only for a second before straightening. “That’s one way to put it.”

“He’s fine.” Dean toed the sole of Ford’s shoe. “But he might have a headache when he wakes up.”

“Forgive me if I’m not in the mood to believe anything you have to say at the moment.”You might have a headache for acouple hours.Son of a bitch. He’d been the one to drug her. “Gun on the floor. Kick it to me. Slowly.”

Dean did as she instructed, assessing her from head to toe. Then straightened. He’d added a few more layers of muscle over the years, let his beard grow in thicker. Otherwise, he hadn’t changed much. Well, except he’d turned into a cold-blooded killer, but she wasn’t going to nitpick. “You look good, little rabbit. I knew you’d make one hell of a criminologist.”

That nickname. She’d once craved to hear it. To feel… beloved. Now it grated on her every last nerve. She used the side of her borrowed tennis shoe to drag his weapon out of reach. One wrong move and she’d pull the trigger. Whatever connection he thought they had vanished the moment he’d fled murder charges. “I should be thanking you. Your disappearance after the Teshia Elborne case really motivated me to hone my skillset.”

“Aw, you’ve been thinking about me.” Dean cocked his head to one side, the same way he had back in that pathetic dorm room she’d once considered the safest place in the world. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“Is that what this is all about? Why you killed Alice Dietz and Tamra Hopkins?” She widened her stance. Ready for anything. “Some sick strategy to get my attention. Because congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

The humor drained from his expression, leaving nothing more than the hardened fugitive underneath. The one who wouldn’t hesitate to discard her to get what he wanted. He’d done it before. There was nothing stopping him from doing it again. Dean had positioned himself between her and the only exit from the room. And if that didn’t tell her everything she needed to know in this moment, nothing could. “I didn’t kill them, Leigh. Didn’t kill Teshia Elborne, either. You know that.”

“That’s funny.” Her mouth had gone dry, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing her entire nervous system had caught fire. “I seem to recall the only reason you were released from police custody all those years ago was because I gave that detective a false alibi.”

“I never asked you to do that.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I didn’t want you involved in any of this.”

“Right.” She nodded toward the newspaper article still sitting on the surface of the table. “The serial killer collection of notes, photos, and media coverage of me and my career downstairs in the basement made that real clear.”

He kept his gaze on her. As though they were the only two people in the entire world and there wasn’t an unconscious US marshal at their feet. “I never meant to hurt you. Even now, I’m doing everything I can to make sure you get out of this alive. To keep my promise to take care of you.”

“The strangulation bruises around my neck tell a different story.” Leigh held her weapon solid with one hand and reached for her cuffs with the other. Except they were currently occupied by a dead professor in the next room over. Damn it. “Oh, and let’s not forget the poison used to kill all three women and Morrow was sourced from the same biomedical lab you used to conduct research in. You still remember your key code, right? Turns out, those codes never expire. Even when you leave the university.”

She stepped to her right, trying to corral him into the corner. Cut off his escape route. The sooner they had him in custody, the sooner she and Ava could go home. The sooner she could put the last fractured piece of her past behind them.

“You’re wasting time trying to pin these deaths on me, little rabbit.” Dean wouldn’t budge. He held his ground, daring her to take that step that ended with a bullet in his chest. “The son of a bitch framed me for killing Teshia, and I’ve been trying to clearmy name ever since. Tracking the real killer across the country. I don’t have a name or a face. He’s too good at moving on to different identities, but I’m getting close, and he knows it. That’s why he killed that girl the same way he killed Teshia. Alice, right? He wanted you on this case. He’s using you to get to me, and he will not hesitate to kill you.”

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