Page 8 of The Killer She Knew

10:39 a.m.

Monsters loved small towns.

It was the rush of familiarity. Of being able to easily read the rules and fit in. The ability to manipulate, dominate, and control came easily when people thought they knew you inside and out. Leigh had seen it back in her hometown. Then again in Gulf Shores last month and a dozen other places similar to Durham over the course of her career. No matter where she went, the monsters followed. Unwilling to let her go.

Was Dean Groves really one of them, or had he become the killer’s personal role model? She’d been nothing more than a confused freshman at the time she’d alibied him for Teshia Elborne’s murder eighteen years ago. Had 100 percent believed he hadn’t been capable of lying to her. That the evidence had been wrong. That the police were wrong. She’d fought a losing battle to keep her father from going to prison and lost. She’dbeen primed and ready to make the same fight for Dean at the time.

Thoughts of Dean—of the mistakes she’d made—hounded her as she pulled her rental into Durham PD’s parking lot. If there was a connection between Alice Dietz’s murder and that of the UNH student, they needed inside information. Information she’d never been privy to as a student herself.

The station resembled countless others Leigh had visited. Drab cinderblock walls, scuffed tile flooring, and public service posters slapped across any available inch of the lobby, but she’d been here before. The building was smaller than most. The brick rambler had once been a single-family home and converted into a police station over the years. A ramp had been added for easy access to the front glass doors with a few windows overlooking the L-shaped parking lot surrounding the building. Trees blocked visual access to the properties on either side, each fighting for their lives as thunder and rain pummeled the town.

Winds had picked up over the past thirty minutes. Weather updates were few and far between with cell towers and power down across the city. According to campus police, the town’s twenty-one full-time officers were short-handed due to downed trees blocking roads, flooding around Durham Town Landing, and more than a fair share of automobile accidents. The front desk phone rang unanswered as Leigh and Ford followed the remaining officer on staff to a conference room at the back of the building.

Emergency protocols were already beginning to take effect. University police had ordered all students on campus to shelter in their dorms. Those who lived off campus were being corralled in Thompson Hall with administration and professors while Durham PD strived to warn the public. Classes had been cancelled until the threat passed. But, at this point, Leigh wasn’t sure which was worse. The impending hurricane or the factthat Alice Dietz’s killer might be mixed in with the displaced students.

Leigh rounded into the conference room to face Durham’s chief of police handing out radios to the officers called in during the emergency. The trio dispersed, leaving their chief’s expression stressed and exhausted. It wasn’t every day a man in his position was faced with two impossible threats at the same time. “Chief, I’m Leigh Brody, FBI. This is US Marshal Ford.”

“Marshal, good to see you again. I take it you’re also here to work the homicide over at the university campus, Agent Brody.” The chief—his voice more strained and gravelly than she’d expected—leaned back against the edge of the conference room table and folded his arms across his chest. Piercing blue eyes stood out from a weathered face touched by too much sun probably earned on weekends in a small fishing boat on the bay. Straw-colored hair swept in a perfect arc from one side of his thinning head to the other while a few areas of stubble had gone completely gray around his jaw. Wrinkles creased down the sleeves of his suit jacket. One he’d obviously been wearing for a while now. “Hard to believe something like this could happen in our own backyard. Twice.”

“Were you on the force during the first campus homicide investigation eighteen years ago? Teshia Elborne’s murder?” Ford clearly liked to take his chances. Test the boundaries of their partnership by taking the occasional lead. He’d done it back in Jeana’s dorm room, too, and while she was the expert in serial offender behavior, Ford hunted fugitives for a living. He had as much right to be here as she did.

“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. I was a detective at the time. I stayed in the loop, but that one wasn’t my case. You want details, you’ll have to read the investigation file. The detective who worked it passed away last year. All I can give you is his notes.” The chief pulled his phone from his slacks, thena pen and notebook from the other pocket. “We don’t get many homicides. That’s the case number. You can requisition the file with the desk clerk out front.”

“We’ll do that.” Leigh took the offering. While they’d gotten what they’d come for there was no way she and Ford could work this case without additional support. “Any units you could spare for the search for our unsub would also be greatly appreciated.”

“Brody. I know the name.” The chief notched his chin higher in her peripheral vision. “Chief Brent Maynor was a friend.”

Dread settled low in her gut. An automatic reaction any time Maynor’s name came into play, but the detective-turned-chief-of-police who’d gone out of his way to convince an entire town of her father’s murderous guilt twenty years ago didn’t deserve her emotion. He didn’t deserve any consideration at all.

“Who’s Brent Maynor?” Marshal Ford’s attention ping-ponged between her and the chief.

The chief didn’t waver. Wanted her to take credit for the downfall of a good man, a friend of his, someone who’d served his town selflessly and did his duty to the people he cared about. Forget about the corruption, the lies, the framing and arrest of an innocent man. This chief wasn’t the first. He wouldn’t be the last. No. He was waiting for her to give him a reason to deny them assistance during this investigation. To maybe get a little bit of revenge on Maynor’s behalf.

Leigh wasn’t going to take the bait. She needed him. His resources, his officers, and his access to the original case file. “Chief, as you know, the first twenty-four hours of a homicide investigation are critical. While campus police are good at their jobs, we simply don’t have the resources to secure our primary crime scene, search for our unsub, and collect statements from friends, family, professors, and other students while enforcing the shelter in place order. It would be helpful if you could loan us some manpower.”

He studied her a moment too long. Clearly disappointed she hadn’t given him what he’d wanted. “I’m not sure you’re aware, Agent Brody, but I’m shorthanded as it is. All of my officers are out there trying to get the people of this town to safety before the storm hits.” The chief pointed toward the door to emphasize his point. Shoving to his full height, he tried to make himself the largest person in the room, but he’d never compare to Ford’s lean, muscular build. The marshal might try to contain it all in a fancy suit, but the evidence of physical power was there in the careful, controlled way he moved. Certainly more so than the chief who’d accepted a career behind a desk. “But in the interest of cooperation, I think I can pull two officers to assist your investigation. I’ll have them report to campus police within the hour.”

“It’s greatly appreciated.” One obstacle in the way of this investigation down. A dozen more to go, and, frustratingly, she couldn’t do anything about the most pressing one, the weather. “Would you also mind lending us a few radios? Seems the storm is playing havoc on cell towers.” She wiggled her phone in one hand. The second service came back, she’d reach out to Ava. Until then, she’d need another way to get hold of the teenager.

The chief reached back to the box on the conference table, one his frame had blocked from her view until now. “Don’t have many left, but what I do have is yours. Anything to help the FBI during these hard times.”

Sure. Leigh divided the remaining two-way radios between her and Ford, testing the batteries and push-to-talk buttons. They weren’t state of the art. Not compared to the ease of cell phones, but they worked, and she was grateful for that. And they’d wasted enough time in this ridiculous pissing contest. “Thank you.”

She headed for the door.

“Agent Brody,” the chief said from behind, and she pulled up short a second time. “I want you to know I’ll be taking a personal interest in this investigation while you’re here.”

Of course he would.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Chief.” Leigh rounded into the corridor and retraced her steps back to the station lobby. Every step released the vise around her ribcage, but it wouldn’t disappear completely. She’d always hated police stations. Durham’s was just one more added to the ever-growing list.

“That sounds ominous.” Ford’s attempt to lighten the mood hit wrong. His inexperience was all too obvious sometimes. At other times, it sounded as if he’d seen too much. Something she could relate to bone deep. It didn’t matter what agency you worked for. Law enforcement wasn’t for the weak of heart.

“I put his friend behind bars for abuse of power and a whole mess of other things earlier this year.” As far as she knew, former chief of police Brent Maynor was serving five years, but there really was no point in revisiting the past. It had haunted her too much as it was. “The chief sees this as his opportunity to put me in my place.”

“I have a feeling he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.” A wisp of a smile played across the marshal’s mouth.

She was beginning to like the marshal more and more.

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