Page 61 of The Killer She Knew

“You know, I was hoping during our time together we could figure out how to move past this, Leigh. Sure, I kill people, but humans have done far worse when it comes down to survival. It’s in our nature.” Ford’s laugh didn’t have the same effect on her as it had earlier. Once warming at the sound, she fought against the shiver spidering across her shoulders. The marshal—no, not a marshal, she had to remember that—leaned back in his chair. Relaxed. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world to kill her. She supposed that was true in a sense. Because he was right. Nobody, not even Ava, would come looking for her until it was too late. “Besides, it’s not every day you find someone who understands you so completely that you have nothing left to hide. And I don’t think I’m ready to give that up just yet.”

“Are you asking me if I still want to go on a date with you?” It hurt to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. This man had taken so many lives. Tried to take hers down in that kill room. And he was still interested in a relationship? Guess she hadn’t made herself clear in that regard. “Because I think I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged.” Ford shoved to his feet so abruptly, her brain had a hard time tracking the movement. Damn drugs. Or hypothermia. Or shock. All of the above? He caged her between his arms, hands gripped against the back of her chair. “I will destroy you so thoroughly not even Dean Groves will be able to identify your remains.”

“My ears are burning.” That all too familiar voice bled from the darkness a split second before Dean stepped free of the corridor. “Does that mean I get to come out and play?”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

8:39 p.m.

“It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.” Dean Groves seemed to resemble an avenging devil, dressed head to toe in black. Yet he was exactly as she’d remembered him. “That’s when the fun really starts.”

Ford broke his attention from Leigh, turning to face the man who’d hunted him all these years. An air of familiarity and anticipation filled the room. “I can’t get rid of you, Groves. You’re like a bad rash.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Tension rippled up Dean’s exposed forearms as his gaze shifted to her. The hardness drained from his expression. “You okay, little rabbit?”

She didn’t have an answer for him. Hell, she couldn’t even breathe. What had Ford given her? Straight-up adrenaline? Her meager attempts to get free left her wrists a bloody mess, andshe still couldn’t control her own damn heart rate. No. She wasn’t okay. Ford was going to kill them both.

Matte black steel absorbed the lantern’s dim light at Ford’s back as he reclaimed Dean’s attention. His service weapon. No, the real Marshal Ford’s service weapon. “I’m afraid Leigh isn’t available at the moment. I hate to admit it, but we’re in the middle of our first fight.”

“Trouble in paradise already? That’s too bad, but I’m going to have to cut your conversation short. You see, you and I have unfinished business.” Dean lunged. His fist went wide, coming at the faux marshal from the side. He missed, but expertly landed a strike to the bastard’s chest.

Ford’s uppercut connected beneath Dean’s jaw. He hit the water, going under as Ford approached.

“Dean, watch out!” It was an odd feeling, suddenly rooting for the man she’d believed to be a murderer all these years. Leigh’s warning came just in time.

Dean rolled as the killer pulled the gun.

Her warning wasn’t enough.

Hauling a heel into Dean’s chest, Ford pressed her ex under the water. “You should’ve taken the murder charges like a man, Groves. All of this could’ve been avoided.”

Hands gripped Ford’s ankle, but Dean couldn’t get the advantage from his position. Ford was going to kill him. Not with a bullet but much slower. More painful. Sputters reached her ears.

Leigh locked her back teeth as she focused on the table Ford had set up near the lantern. She couldn’t make much out other than the syringes lined in neat little rows, but there was a chance he’d brought something else to cut through the zip ties at her wrists and ankles. She put what energy she had left into shifting the chair closer to the workbench. The water helped take some of the weight off but also slowed her down. Every movementsounded overly loud in her ears. Echoing off the cinderblock walls and announcing her intentions.

Ford put his weight into keeping Dean in place.

Time. She was running out of time. Pain in her wrists and muscles stripped her nerves raw, ripping a groan from her throat. There. Ford had set her service weapon near the lantern. It wouldn’t get her out of these zip ties, but with any luck, she could stop Ford altogether. She had to do something. Dean wasn’t struggling anymore. Her heart kicked hard in her chest. No. This wasn’t over. He had to keep fighting.

“Well, that was anticlimactic. I mean eighteen years and so many close calls, and you would think there’d be… more.” Ford peeled his foot from his latest victim’s chest. Then turned on her. Holstering his weapon, he dragged his chair back in front of her. “Now, where were we? Right. Round three.”

Ford collected another set of syringes. Utter despair leeched into Leigh’s brain. She wasn’t going to survive a new round. She could feel it in her bones. How achingly… tired her body had become in a matter of minutes. She thought of Ava, of how she’d be breaking her promise. She hoped Ava forgave her.

“I have to say, disruptions aside, I am really enjoying our time together, Leigh. When you spend so long planning someone’s death, you have an idea of how it will end, but this is so much better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

The last of the warmth in her veins vacated. Leaving her empty as she stared at the still waters where Dean had disappeared. They were deeper now. Nearly to her knees. It would take Durham PD days to drain this basement and find her remains. And then where would Ava go? Tears burned in her eyes. What was the point in holding them back? She’d buried any feelings she’d had for Dean Groves over the years, but watching him murdered brought back those few moments he’d given her permission to be herself. Where he’d accepted her for who shewas—baggage and all. “I don’t even know your name. How will I know who to haunt when I’m dead?”

“Still quick with that wit, I see.” Ford uncapped the syringes. One an amphetamine, the other a barbiturate. It was going to hurt again. He’d make sure of it. “It took a lot to convince the detective running Teshia’s murder investigation to leave my name out of the reports, but it turns out, moneycanbuy happiness.”

The shadows behind Ford shifted as he set the needle into the crook of her arm. Nothing but a hallucination. The last effort from her brain to make sense of the position she’d die in. Not to mention the outfit. Sweats were not fashionable, but it was too late to change now. Acceptance settled over her like a weighted blanket. Uncomfortable at first, but she’d get used to it. At least for the few minutes she had left. “You thought of everything.”

“I have.” He shoved the needle beneath her skin. She didn’t even feel the pinch this time.

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