Page 56 of The Killer She Knew

“Leigh!” Ford’s voice barely reached her.

A shoe kicked into her mouth. Blood coated her tongue and teeth.

And then came the darkness.

THIRTY-FOUR

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

7:17 p.m.

“I think she’s coming around.” Bright light singed the back of her eyes. A face cleared above her. Perfectly shaped eyebrows, thin lips stretched into a smile, warm eyes. She knew that face. Jenny. Jenny Duval. The medicolegal investigator. “I’m not a medical physician, but I can’t rule out a concussion. Her nose doesn’t appear to be broken. Hard to tell with so much blood.”

Her stomach rolled. Leigh shoved her heels into the floor to turn onto her side, but something—or someone—held her in place. How many head injuries were too many? She was asking for a friend. She brushed her hand to her hip as the last few minutes played out in her mind. Her gun. Where was her gun? “Ow.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ford’s features took shape behind the flashlight. Pointing to the ceiling, he smileddown at her with a white, watery layer that had to come from losing consciousness too many times.

The brassy taste of blood created a thick layer on her tongue. Silence pressed into her, yet she recognized the two-story open ceiling of Thompson Hall’s lobby. Leigh forced her shoulders off the floor but didn’t get far. “Where is everyone?”

Ford maneuvered around the medicolegal investigator, hands threading under her back to help her sit up. “Secured in classrooms. No more than four in a group. The loudest protestors get to sit with Morrow’s body.”

“Ava.” She scanned the empty lobby.

The marshal steadied her before removing his hold. “She’s fine. She managed to stay away from most of the fighting. She sat by you for a few minutes to make sure you were okay. Then I had her go keep an eye on the others. I’m not going to lie, she was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I must’ve hit my head harder than you thought. I think you just said my daughter was worried about me, and that doesn’t sound right.” Maybe she was getting the hang of this motherhood gig. Maybe the fifteen-year-old she’d adopted didn’t hate her as much as she thought. Them being mortal enemies and all. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Ava was okay. She was safe.

“Yeah, well, that one surprised us all,” Ford said. “You must be rubbing off on her.”

Leigh fought against the urge to slump back to the floor. She’d rushed to assist the university president, but she didn’t see him here with them. “What about the staff and administration?”

“Minor cuts and bruising. Seems you took the brunt of the mob’s anger.” Jenny finally got rid of the flashlight, locking those brown eyes on Leigh. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

She shook her head. “You’re not holding any fingers up.”

“Then we’re good.” Jenny slipped her flashlight into her windbreaker pocket. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do and I have the feeling you’d ignore me anyway, but I recommend taking it easy over the next few hours. Just to make sure there isn’t anything I missed.”

Leigh took Ford’s offered hand and got to her feet. Her fingertips brushed the inside of his left wrist, catching on something sticky beneath the cuff. It took her a second to realize it was a Band-Aid. Her head swam as she righted herself—with his help—and she used his chest for balance. “Were you injured in the fight?”

Lifting his forearm, he cracked a smile as he exposed a much larger bandage beneath his suit and shirt sleeve. The sticky substance hadn’t been a Band-Aid but medical tape and a patch of gauze. Stained with a slim line of blood down the middle and hidden by the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Damn kids are faster than I give them credit for. I tried to get to you at the center of the mob. Next thing I know one of them was dragging a pen down my arm. Cut pretty deep, too. Fortunately, it’s not lethal. We can still make our date when we get out of this place.”

Her stomach hollowed. The line of blood seeping through the fabric looked more rust-colored than bright red. Older. Had Jenny patched him up? She tried for a smile, but she was just so damn tired. Her shoulder ached where Dean had slugged her old injury, and she didn’t even want to think about the mess on her face. Leigh stretched her jaw to test for damage. Everything remained in one place. “Can’t wait.”

“You’ll be fine.” Jenny packed her gear in an undersized duffle bag. “Can’t say the same for our dead guy, though.”

“Did you get anything from the remains?” she asked. “Something we can use to identify him?”

“I collected DNA and tried to print both hands. They were swollen beyond belief, but once this storm passes, I can get himback to the morgue to get you an ID if he’s in the system.” The medicolegal investigator unpocketed her phone and swiped to the photos app. “Oh, but I was able to get a couple snapshots of his tattoo. It looks custom, so there’s a chance you might be able to track down the artist. Nice work, too. It would’ve cost an arm and a leg in shading alone.”

“I didn’t see any tattoos on him.” Ford took position over Leigh’s shoulder to get a better view of Jenny’s screen.

“You wouldn’t have unless you were authorized to strip him.” Jenny angled the phone toward them, showing off a rather detailed American flag shaded in black with a strip of blue. “See? I told you it was nice work. Would’ve taken a few sessions to get that detail. Don’t worry. I made sure no one else was in the room when I got the dead guy naked, but I won’t be showing you any of the other photos I took until the autopsy is finalized.”

Tension radiated at her back as Ford straightened. “A flag with a thick blue stripe.”

“He was law enforcement.” This was what they’d been waiting for. Something—anything—to tell them who the unidentified remains were. So why didn’t that critical piece of knowledge make her feel any better? “When will you collect the remains?”

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