Page 38 of The Killer She Knew

“They can’t do this. They don’t have any physical evidence.” She wanted those words to be more than a panicked wish, but experience had taught her well these past couple of years. Leigh shot off the bed and grabbed for her clothes as Dean faced the door. Her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest. “Don’t say anything. I know a defense lawyer. I can fix this.”

He waited until she’d dressed. Then locked those depthless eyes on her. “This isn’t for you to fix, Leigh.”

She froze. Taken aback by the crush of emotion stuck in her throat.

Dean opened the door, turning to face her as two Durham PD officers wrenched his hands into handcuffs.

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

11:51 a.m.

She was going to die.

Black webs spidered at the edges of her vision. The pressure around her throat increased. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The body overhead swayed with every kick she attempted to get free. But it was no use.

Leigh threaded her fingers underneath the vise circled around her throat. Soft fabric prevented her fingertips from getting a grip. She shook her head as though that would rewind time. As though it would help her disassociate from suffocating in the next few seconds.

Throwing her head back, she failed to connect with her attacker’s nose. There was nothing she could do. Her movements were already slowing. Getting harder to control. The darkness was closing in, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her elbow knocked against the nearest shelf hanging on to preservation supplies. One of the mason jars—full of green slime that would kill anyone who dared get close—knocked over onto its side and rolled closer.

She didn’t have time to think. Leigh shot one hand out while clawing for release with the other. Her fingertips slipped off the curved glass and forced it farther away. It rolled back in the next second. She tried again and secured her hand around the heavy jar.

Her attacker’s grip threatened to crush her airway.

The black edges across her vision transformed into a thick wave that overwhelmed her senses. But she hung on. She wasn’t going to die today. Not like this. And sure as hell not in this room like Alice Dietz. Leigh brought the slime jar into her ribcage, then slammed it against the edge of the shelf.

The thud barely registered in her ears. Or was that one of the last thuds of her heart in her ears? She couldn’t tell the difference. Her pulse weakened in her throat, barely bulging against the hands crushing her. She dragged the increasingly heavy jar back to her chest. Then hit it against the shelf.

Pain spliced across her palm. Keeping her alive. She focused on that pain, on the feel of shattered glass in her hand. Leigh clutched it tighter. Cutting herself deeper as a heavy weight dragged her into a watery grave.

She brought the shard to her neck. And sliced down.

A filtered groan reached her ears. The grip around her throat disappeared. A rush of pressure expanded in her chest, but she couldn’t let herself inhale. Bits of light bled into her vision. This was her chance. Leigh didn’t bother aiming for the flashlight rolling back and forth across the floor and kicked for the door.

Her arms protested every swipe, as though she were swimming through mud.

Out. She needed out.

A dark shape blocked her escape through the door. Two… of them? No. She wasn’t going to stop. Couldn’t stop. Leigh braced for impact as the second attacker extended a hand. For her.

Strong hands latched on to her arms and dragged her close. Finishing what the first had started. Except Leigh was still moving. Being shoved through the door into the hallway. The second shape released its hold, his features blurred in her vision. Propelling her out of the kill room.

Waves mocked her from overhead. Promising an air pocket. She clawed for the water’s surface with all the grace of a T-rex. One hand broke the surface. Then her head.

Her gasp echoed off the walls. Leigh gulped a burning lungful of air as she clung to an exposed pipe in the dark. Ford. Where was Ford? A sob pressurized in her chest, but she wouldn’t let it out. Not here. Not yet.

A flashlight beam cut through the water around her feet. Her throat barely managed to produce a sound. “Ford!”

The marshal’s head broke free of the inky depths. He stretched to grab on to a pipe next to hers with bare hands, worse for wear around his mouth and eyes. Blood mixed with water at his temple. “Shit. Are you okay?”

Fury burned through her veins. Leigh shoved at his chest. “You were supposed to wait for me.” She hit him again. “You were supposed to go back if I didn’t make it.”

“I just saved your life! Not sure if you know this, but someone tried to kill you.” Ford swiped a mixture of water and blood from his face. “I think that deserves a thank you.”

“Where is he?” She struggled to catch her breath, shaken straight to her core. She’d come close to dying multiple times over her career, but this… This had felt personal. Or maybe she just had more to lose now. “Where did he go? What happened?”

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