Page 3 of The Killer She Knew

“You and I both know why the US Marshals Service is asking me to consult, Director.” Leigh tried to keep her voice even to avoid Ava overhearing the conversation through the thin wood door. The dread pooling at the base of her spine refused to relent. “Durham PD or campus police recognized the MO andconnected me back to the original investigation. Considering my new popularity, I’m surprised it took them this long.”

She’d managed to escape the media for most of her life. Up until she’d solved a twenty-year-old cold case. Her brother’s. The attention was getting more suffocating now that she’d put her best friend behind bars for murder. And adopted the woman’s daughter as her own. She’d managed to keep their new arrangement out of the news, but it was only a matter a time.

“When you get to Durham, your contact during the course of the investigation will be US Marshal Max Ford. He’ll meet you at the crime scene tomorrow morning.” An order. Livingstone took a beat. “Tell me, Agen’ Brody. Will there be a day when you don’t have a personal connection to one of our cases, or can I expect your past to keep my team employed for the foreseeable future?”

Leigh wished she could deny the possibility, but secrets had a funny way of coming back to life at the most inopportune times. “Lucky for us, I already know who’s doing this.”

TWO

Durham, New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 9

9:17 a.m.

It was one of those postcard towns made of traditional brick, too-narrow roads, and a city center that compelled families to take part in the festivities for major holidays. There was even a picturesque bay tourists could work into their vacation photos if they got the right angle. Similar to her hometown, Durham, New Hampshire had one additional draw: the University of New Hampshire. Students from all over the country brought their bad driving habits into twenty-two square miles of densely populated fall-colored trees and crumbling roads. One upon a time, Leigh had been one of them.

A combination of red and yellow leaves was strewn about her path. Fall had thrown up all over campus with an added bite in the air from whatever storm was moving in. Skulls, witches’ hats, and blood-streaked handprints clung to campus doors and told her Halloween was around the corner. This would be herfirst official holiday with Ava. No better way to get in the mood than by investigating a real-life murder.

Leigh followed the familiar maze of sidewalks cutting across a perfectly manicured dying lawn, all dead-ending at the front door of Thompson Hall. The Romanesque Revival had been built on a knoll south of Main Street, structured with heavy massing, granite trim, and a tall clock tower bellowing its protest every hour on the hour. It was possibly the most recognizable building out of fifty others on campus.

And where a killer had chosen to make his point.

Keystone arches supported the extended overhang protecting the double glass doors, consuming her whole as she approached the yellow crime scene tape cutting off access to the building to academics and students alike. Fall had settled in the air with a nip capable of slithering beneath her coat. It hadn’t gotten cold enough to form crystals at her mouth, but it was only a matter of time. A rogue gust of wind whipped her hair from her collar as she approached the perimeter of crime scene tape. Weather reports from the screen built into the back of the airline seat in front of her had shown the growing strength of the storm gathering off the coast, but hurricanes this far north weren’t common. And they certainly couldn’t touch the university this far inland.

Leigh pulled her credentials from her wool coat pocket as an officer moved to bar her from getting too close. Protect the scene. No matter the cost. “Agent Brody, FBI. Marshal Ford is expecting me.” She took the sign-in clipboard from the officer posted as scene security and scribbled her initials, handing it back as he lifted the tape to see herself into an exclusive club of observers. The kind that made death and violence resemble an office job.

She’d been to near a hundred crime scenes, most of them death investigations, but coming back here? Standing in thisexact spot? It was all starting to compound. She replaced her credentials and pulled her phone free. No update from Ava back at the hotel. Leigh had barely had time to toss her overnight bag on the bed before the fifteen-year-old had grabbed for the TV remote, thrown herself on the opposite bed, and put up the oh-so-recognizable wall teens were experts in building. She sent a check-in message. More to make herself feel better about leaving Ava alone in an unfamiliar hotel room in the middle of a random New England town while Leigh gave someone else her full attention. No response. Seemed Ava hadn’t forgiven her for having her forcibly dragged back to the apartment last night.

“Bet you didn’t expect to be back here of all places.” The rough voice came from her left, slightly outside the target scene where controlled chaos buzzed. Local police, medicolegal investigators, photographers. All focused on the body at their feet. But the US marshal stepping to her side didn’t want to be in the middle of the action. He’d been waiting. For her. “Victim’s name is Alice Dietz.”

Impossibly dark eyes landed on her in expectation. At over six feet tall, he could probably intimidate the hell out of anyone, and Leigh had to crane her head back to hold a gaze set in a too-handsome face free from violence. Perfectly styled hair with a few grays at his temples, the unbuttoned suit jacket, and shiny black shoes completed the Boy Scout look and lent a heavy dose of charisma Leigh was sure he unleashed on unsuspecting victims when needed. But it was the disarming half-smile and the wire-rimmed glasses that had the potential to lure the unwary into his web. A smile he hadn’t used to hook a wife if his ringless finger was anything to go by. He stretched out one hand. “US Marshal Max Ford.”

She took his offering, her hand immediately swallowed under his. Calluses gritted against her palm. A sign of hard labor. Max worked with his hands. No desk jockey here. “Leigh Brody.”

“I know who you are, Agent Brody. You’ve made quite the name for yourself with your last few cases.” His attention was still on her. Limited to this two-person bubble he’d created around them. It was honed and as sharp as a blade and told her he was a lot wiser beyond what she guessed were his forty or forty-one years. He knew it, too. He expected people to underestimate him. “From what I’ve read, you’re exactly who we need on this case.”

Leigh’s skin grew hot under his touch. Leaving her… exposed. She’d never been a fan of attention, private or public, and Ford was giving too much of both. She slipped her hand free of his. “From what I understand, USMS hunts fugitives and manages seized assets of criminals. Can I ask why you’re interested in the homicide of a university student?”

His smile was back in place, targeting the invisible crack he’d created in her professional armor. He rested his hands at his sides, giving her a view of the marshal’s service badge clipped to the waistband. “I have reason to believe there is more than one victim in this investigation, Agent Brody.”

More than one. Had Livingstone gotten the body count wrong? Highly unlikely considering the FBI had access to every law enforcement database in the country. Which meant Ford had made another connection to this case. “I’m assuming you’re not counting the victim who was poisoned and left to be found on this campus eighteen years ago, but, if so, why would the Marshals office be interested? Any investigation that crosses state lines falls into FBI jurisdiction. Unless you already know who’s behind this.”

“I’ve been chasing a suspect across the country. Santa Ana, Glendale, Garland, Boston, and now Durham.” Ford cast a glance back to the scene. “Every town this guy visits, there’s always a body left behind.”

“Let me guess. Murdered with a combination of arsenic and cyanide.” A pit solidified in Leigh’s gut. It was Teshia Elborne’s case all over again. Poison wasn’t a merciful way to kill a person. Abdominal pain and uncontrolled vomiting from arsenic poisoning took effect within thirty minutes while the cyanide burned the central nervous system from the inside out. The victim died slowly and painfully, unable to move. Unable to scream. MOs involving poison always led to the same motive: to inflict pain. Either of the poisons on their own would have the desired effect. Why use both unless to make a point? “How many in total?”

“Four, not counting this one.” Concentration deepened the lines between Ford’s brows. “But he’s never killed a woman before.”

Interesting.

“I’ll need to see the investigation files for any previous victims.” A change in victimology didn’t come easy to veteran killers. There were rules to be followed. Needs to be met. Protocols couldn’t be broken when chasing adrenaline and pleasure highs serial offenders craved. Leigh would take the change in victimology into consideration later. That, and the possible connection to the first homicide here at the university, but for now, they had a fresh body. One that might give them some answers if they moved fast enough. “And I’d like to see the body.”

“I thought you might.” Ford didn’t hesitate in taking the lead through the semi-circle of investigators and photographers. The small crowd parted with his presence alone, revealing the pale blonde taking up all their attention. And now Leigh’s.

She’d seen this crime scene before. Studied it until the images had burned into her brain. The location of the body, how the killer had arranged her as though taking great care not to blemish her skin, the blonde hair and wide staring eyes.Too familiar. The force of similarities threatened to unravel the little composure she’d managed to build since stepping foot back onto this campus. She could practically feel the burn of Ford’s attention between her shoulder blades as she crouched beside the body. Trying to learn every secret the victim had ever kept, every lie she’d ever told.

“Meet Alice Dietz. Sophomore. Twenty-one years old. Campus police received a report filed by a roommate she’d been missing for two days before the president’s executive assistant found her here last night around 6:45 p.m. Said she was working late to help organize the fall fundraiser. Was so focused on the files in her hand, she tripped right over the victim.” Ford kept a respectable distance from the body. “I had the ME’s office hold off on transporting her to the morgue until you could see her yourself. They’ve done a preliminary examination. Now they’re chomping at the bit to bag her and tag her.”

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