Page 1 of The Killer She Knew

PROLOGUE

Durham, New Hampshire

Monday, October 7

9:43 p.m.

No one ever said being a killer was easy.

He’d been hoping this day would come.

Eighteen years. Of planning. Of waiting. Of blending in for the right time to strike. He’d been patient. Waiting for her to make a mistake.

And this was his reward.

A quiet shuffle reached his ears from the other side of the room as he pinned the latest news article to the board. This one an interview from theGulf Shores News. “Revengeful Mother of Teen Sentenced to Life Without Parole.” He didn’t care about the case. It was already losing its shiny-new-crisis appeal. But the FBI agent interviewed and pictured in the center of the front-page article did hold his attention. So damn perfect. But sad. Broken.

Dozens of faces stared back at him from the wall. Well, one face. They all belonged to her. She’d kept herself out of the media well enough over the years, but she’d always been a star in his eyes.

The one who’d gotten away.

A weak sound filled the dark room. Exasperation killed the enthusiasm in his veins. Apparently his guest wasn’t going to follow the rules after all. He turned to face the slumped woman coming to against the built-in shelves constructed of raw two-by-fours.

This small below-ground escape-from-the-real-world didn’t meet his usual standards. He preferred not to have to get a tetanus shot each time he descended into the basement, but it would do for now. After all, this was all temporary.

She was pretty in an unremarkable kind of way. Curled blonde hair and flawlessly applied makeup. Smart, too, from what little conversation he’d overheard between her and her professor earlier. Something about positivist victimology, victim environment, non-random risk of violence. Blah, blah, blah. Ironic her understanding of criminal behavior wouldn’t do her any good now. “You’re wondering why you’re here.”

He crouched in front of her, reaching for a thick strand of hair as she blinked up at him. It was all she could do, thanks to padded binds around her wrists and ankles. Couldn’t be leaving any bruises, after all. What was her name? Anne? Adrienne? He wasn’t sure. They all started blending together after a while. And this one didn’t have long. There was no point in trying to remember. Ten minutes, maybe less. “Would you believe it if I said you remind me of someone I used to know?”

“Please.” Her begging had lost its meaning over the past couple of hours. It always did. If he was being honest with himself, this whole charade was starting to feel stale. Then again, pretty little Abigail hadn’t been his original target. He’d hadto adapt in the moment to get to her. Take advantage of an opportunity he hadn’t considered before, and for the first time in years, he’d nearly dropped to his knees from the rush. But, in the end, Alison and the others who’d come before her were nothing more than place holders.

The one he wanted—needed—was still out there. Waiting for him.

ONE

Quantico, Virginia

Tuesday, October 8

11:16 p.m.

“You’re not my mother!” The door slammed in her face, nearly breaking her nose. “I hate you!”

Leigh Brody tamped down the visceral inclination to shout something immature back, to stick out her tongue, and slam another door in response, but she was supposed to be the adult in this relationship. Were all fifteen-year-olds this impossible to live with, or had she been particularly lucky?

She’d known adopting a teenager would be hard, but nobody had warned her about the fact there was no return policy. Ava wasn’t a random teen in need of a home. She was the beloved daughter of Leigh’s best friend. Well, former best friend.

Murder and a life prison sentence had a way of adding distance to any relationship. Not to mention a heavy helping of resentment.

Ava had shown an incredible willingness to do just about anything to get as far from their new situation as possible over the past couple of weeks. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, stealing Leigh’s credit card, refusing to tell anyone where she was going, who she was hanging out with. Leigh couldn’t blame her. Neither of them wanted to accept the truth: They were all each other had.

“Dinner is on the table when you get hungry,” she said through the door.

Ava didn’t respond. In Leigh’s experience, she wouldn’t for a while. The silent treatment had become Ava’s number one weapon, but it would be much harder for her adopted daughter to sneak out onto the balcony attached to her room with the new hardware Leigh had installed during tonight’s escape attempt. She hoped no one reported the shiny new bolt lock to the landlord. Or the fire department.

Forcing herself to take a step back from the thin wood separating them, Leigh faced the dining room in the too-small two-bedroom apartment. Boxes lined the walls of the living room to her left. Mostly hers, some of them Ava’s. Two lives coming together from an explosion of disaster and new beginnings. It was a mess they would have to systematically clean up together. But not tonight. “Thanks for bringing her home, Caine.”

“Anytime, Agent Brody.” The Quantico PD uniformed officer dipped his standard issue baseball cap with the touch of his index finger at the brim. Nice and polite. Leigh had the fortune to get to know most of the officers out of Quantico since relocating to Virginia earlier this year. Came with the territory as a criminologist in the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit Two, but Caine was starting to become a regular face. Thanks to Ava. “Teens this age don’t know who they are. It’s all about experimenting and pushing boundaries. They’re not kidsanymore but they’re not adults either. And, from what you’ve said, she’s been through a lot. I wouldn’t go too hard on her.”

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