Chapter 7
SEVEN
Durham, New Hampshire
Wednesday, October 9
1:50 p.m.
He’d been real.
As real as the marshal on her left.
“Campus police doesn’t have any reports of vehicles coming onto or leaving campus in the past hour other than the two officers the chief of police dispatched.” Ford aimed his flashlight beneath the third row of stadium seat desks and moved down the aisle. “And they’ve searched the building. Twice. There’s no sign of Dean Groves.”
“He knows this campus as well as they do.” There were any number of places he could’ve taken to hiding in. The university had an entire network of basements Dean had most likely taken advantage of. Leigh scrubbed at her face as the pit pit pit of rain continued against the window. There was no pattern in the rhythm, and it messed with her head. Her fingertips itched for something—anything—to pull her back into that calm space she needed to think through a case. To help her put the pieces together. They’d started searching classrooms twenty minutes ago, but they wouldn’t find anything. Dean was too smart to hang around. “Maybe even better.”
He’d been here. Something had drawn him back to this campus, and there were too many parallels between Teshia Elborne’s death eighteen years ago and Alice Dietz’s last night to be a coincidence. The location of the body, the scent of bleach on the victims’ skin, the connection to this university, the similarity between the women’s appearances—it was all right there. Waiting for her to pin him as their primary suspect.
She closed the door to the closet she’d been searching in one of the amphitheater classrooms. Nothing but a broken overhead projector, a fire extinguisher long past its last inspection date, and four stacks of textbooks which had gone out of print before she’d graduated. She’d taken introductory psychology in this very room. If she thought hard enough about it, she’d admit it’d been the class that had changed her life. Compelled her to understand human behavior and why some people wanted others to hurt. Why an entire town of people she’d once loved and trusted had turned on her family. Turned out, the answer was pretty simple. Fear.
“We can have university police do another sweep.” Ford finished his search.
She turned to face him. At a loss. Everything that could’ve gone wrong in this investigation already had. How much worse would it get when storm winds peaked? Irritation spread fast and thoroughly, burning everything in its path. “It won’t do any good. He’s gone.”
“I read through the investigation report we got from Durham PD while waiting for maintenance to assess the generator. That murder that took place here eighteen years ago. Teshia Elborne had been a student here,” Ford said. “You were a freshman, right?”
Something heavy and acidic settled in her throat. Leigh tried to focus on any other potential hiding spots in this room, but they both knew they were killing time until the storm let up. “I was.”
“I can see it now.” He cracked a smile, and she couldn’t help but pay closer attention to the effect it had on his face. The escape it provided from the reality of their situation. “Fresh-faced and eager criminology student Leigh Brody with the whole country waiting for her to come solve their most heinous cases.”
“Actually, I started out as a psych student. Ended up switching majors a few weeks into my first semester after one of my professors convinced me I had a talent for understanding the criminal side of human behavior.” She pictured that same professor sitting in the corner of the president’s office this morning, waiting for her to give him the attention he’d craved from her all these years. She climbed the stairs toward the classroom door at the top. While nearly two decades had passed, it felt like mere minutes since she’d been in this room. Ready to fix all the world’s problems. Starting with her brother’s. Then she’d realized no one would be coming to prove her father’s innocence. That she and her brother had to be the ones to advocate for him.
Hell, she hadn’t even thought about the fact her dad had probably tried to get a hold of her in the past few hours and couldn’t. Knowing Joel Brody, he’d already called the director demanding to know where she was. She could imagine the conversation all too easily. Mainly because it’d already happened several times in the seven months he’d been released from prison. “For a long time, I was determined to become a therapist.”
“I bet you would’ve been good at carving decorative wood bowls, if you’d put your mind to it.” Ford followed her into the hallway as they moved on to the next classroom, this one smaller than the last. “You seem like the overachiever type. Good at everything you do. Making the rest of us look like losers.”
She couldn’t argue. Despite the inefficacy of birth order theory and characteristics assigned each child in a family, she was the oldest child, and she’d taken the role seriously in any capacity she could. High academic achievement, parental responsibility, and perfectionism to the extreme. It was one of the reasons she latched on to patterns so easily. Patterns didn’t lie. They couldn’t be manipulated. Not like people. “My fifteen-year-old might disagree with you. Seems nothing I do is good enough.”
It’d been a slip. One she was regretting now. Letting Ford—a man she didn’t even know—have a glimpse into her personal life. But if there was one thing she’d learned over the months since joining the BAU team, it was she couldn’t do any of this alone. She was still standing here because she’d allowed people in. Her brother. Her father. Her best friend. Though, she wasn’t sure that last one counted anymore. Murder charges tended to change relationships.
Ford let her little revelation sit between them for a beat. Almost taken aback. “I didn’t realize you were a mother. Figured you were just kidnapping the teenager glowering behind you when you came out of the hotel.”
“If you ask her, I’m sure she’d agree,” Leigh said.
Ford’s laugh tightened something in her chest. “In all the media coverage of you over the past few years, there wasn’t any mention of kids. You would’ve been, what? Twenty, or twenty-one when you had her?”
He’d researched her?
“Something like that.” She forced herself to clear the next classroom. Leigh couldn’t put her finger on why she’d lied. Why she suddenly wanted to keep the specifics of her relationship with Ava to herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Ford. But what she and Ava had was… hers. Forget the constant worrying, the attempted run-aways, the feeling she was doing everything wrong. Ava was… a bone-deep wish come true. The beginnings of the family she’d craved since she’d been seventeen years old and had lost everything and everyone she’d loved. She wanted the after-school snacks and shared secrets over popcorn her mom used to arrange for her and her brother. The family vacations that always ended up with someone having to pee by the side of the car with her mom holding up a blanket or towel to block other drivers’ views. She wanted to be the kind of mom who brought out Ava’s smile and courage, as her own mother had done for her. But Ava didn’t owe her any of that. If she was being honest with herself, all she could guarantee was safety and security and support. “Nothing in here.”
She and Ford moved through two more classrooms without luck. They’d almost reached the end of the corridor. They were running out of places to search, but Dean wasn’t here. As they walked, the silence between her and the marshal turned physical but not uncomfortable. “Any word from the medical examiner?”
Ford kept his head down. Focused on his feet while the entire campus threatened to unravel at the slightest touch. “They sent one of their techs over for an update when the wind died down for a bit. Alice Dietz’s autopsy is at the bottom of their priority list at the moment. Seems we’re on our own for now. Chasing ghosts.”
“She was hiding something from her roommates.” Leigh faced the exit she’d shoved through when running after Dean. Rain pounded the glass and created rivulets of water pooling beneath the door and working its way inside. Had he really been there? Or had the connection to the past started playing tricks with her mind? Maybe she wanted him to be the one they were hunting. For closure. For the assurance she’d never gotten. Maybe the idea of him had slipped through her detachment to this place while she hadn’t been paying attention. “Alice was sneaking out in the middle of the night when she thought they were asleep. Hiding private messages. Acting paranoid.”
“Her phone wasn’t with her when she was found,” Ford said. “Fat chance of a judge signing off on a warrant for her phone records and financials until this storm passes. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if we don’t have a mutiny on our hands.”
“What about her laptop?” There had to be something alluding to Alice’s whereabouts since her disappearance. “Where’s her backpack? Her purse? What about her textbooks?”
“Keys and wallet were recovered with the body. No one touched her until you were on the scene.” Ford swept his flashlight toward the end of the corridor as the door threatened to come off its hinges. He lunged for the lock and secured it before it had a chance of ripping wide. “Killer must’ve taken her devices. If he’s the one who’s been texting her—threatening her as her roommate claims—he’d have good reason to make sure they’re never recovered.”
They weren’t getting anywhere. Not with evidence. Not with the autopsy. And sure as hell not with their victimology. Alice Dietz had been a solid B student according to administration records. Perfectly average. Came from a well-off family, tuition paid for in full by her parents each semester. Full schedule of core classes. No real extracurricular activities or clubs. Every ounce the isolated, secretive type her roommates had described. At least on paper. From what little they’d been able to gather and without being able to speak to her parents or close friends, Alice Dietz had seemingly gone out of her way to remain invisible.
The complete opposite of Teshia Elborne.
What was the connection? Why kill Alice with the same MO of another co-ed after all these years?
“That fugitive you’ve been tracking.” Leigh lost motivation to keep up the search and let the tension in her shoulders drain. Dean Groves wasn’t here. Always one step ahead. Just as he had been over the past eighteen years. Out of reach. “You said he assumed his victims’ identities after killing them with a combination of cyanide and arsenic. That’s what led you to Durham and to Alice Dietz’s death scene, right? He lived their lives for weeks before moving on to the next target. Are there any connections between victims, or to this university?”
“Each victim was killed in a different city, but from what we can tell he started in California and has made his way to the east coast.” Ford swiped his hands through his hair to contain the rigid style he must’ve spent hours to perfect. “If there’s a connection between the four victims we’ve recovered, the US Marshals Service and local homicide detectives haven’t been able to find it.”
“Do you have a description, possible age, sightings?” she asked. “Anything to tell us who you’ve been chasing?”
“Nothing on age or description considering the only sightings we have of this guy are when he’s in character. We’ve recovered boxes of store-bought hair dye, used prosthetics and putty to alter his facial features, colored contacts—all of it bleached to destroy evidence of DNA. This guy is thorough. He cleans up before moving on to the next city. No fingerprints left behind. Nothing to suggest he was even there until after the fact.” Ford swept his attention down the length of the corridor. “Best we can determine is that each of the victims’ bodies were discovered after he’d already moved on to the next city, sometimes days later when a coworker or neighbor reported not being able to contact the victim.”
She arced her own flashlight to the opposite side of the hallway. They were outcast to the dark for now. On their own. “He would’ve had to watch his prey. Maybe even become part of their lives before killing them to ensure he had a reason for being in his victims’ homes if evidence ever did turn up.”
The marshal’s dark gaze locked on hers. The soft planes of his jaw dissolved. Letting a hint of a too-familiar darkness investigators had to own to survive the realities of this evil they dealt with. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s impossible to step into someone’s shoes you haven’t studied. How else would he have fooled the people in his victims’ lives? We each have our own cadence when we speak, we use certain words more than others. Penmanship is different for everyone, the way we hold a pen or pencil. Apart from that, people are more aware than they give themselves credit for. Friends, family, co-workers. Sooner or later, they would’ve noticed something off, so the longer he retained an identity, the more risk he took,” Leigh said. “Your fugitive would’ve had to learn their habits, routines, the way they spoke, visit their favorite restaurants. What better way to become an expert on your target than to slip into their life under normal circumstances? But to be honest, it all seems a little far-fetched.”
“You’d be amazed at how often people refuse to acknowledge what’s staring them right in the face.” Ford spoke as though he had experience in that department.
She automatically wanted to swim in the mess of alternate theories Ford might not have considered in his chase across the country. To distract her from the growing feeling of guilt. Guilt for failing to see Dean Groves for who he really was. For allowing herself to be taken in by his charm and lies. Even after all this time, he was managing to get under her skin, and she hated it.
His disappearance told volumes about his guilt concerning the murder of his ex-girlfriend eighteen years ago. Question was: Had he killed Alice Dietz?
“We interviewed relatives, co-workers, and friends during each of the investigations.” Ford kept pace with her all too easily at more than a head-and-a-half taller in height. “Between four victims, there weren’t any crisis events or concerns for safety. No significant others or intimate relationships other than a few past breakups. At least, nothing recent. None of them worked for the same company or donated to the same charities according to their financial statements. In fact, nearly all of them worked remote or owned their own businesses where they could vanish for days or weeks at a time. Something the unsub certainly took advantage of.”
“Your killer has a type.” Leigh forced herself back toward the building’s lobby. “With as much detail as he would need to assume their identities, I would bet his victims weren’t random. He chose them for a reason.”
Ford rewarded her with a half-smile that could trigger a war if in the wrong hands. “Best we can put together, this guy chose victims around his same build with similar features to make the transition easier. No best friends or close family. That seems to have been important. He probably couldn’t run the risk of being identified or having anyone looking into his victims’ deaths until he was ready. Which means he sought out loners, victims who isolated themselves for one reason or another. The guy is a chameleon.”
“Except he can’t assume Alice Dietz’s identity.” The deaths Marshal Ford described seemed almost… calculated. Serving a purpose. What purpose did Alice Dietz serve? “You said it yourself. If your fugitive is connected to what happened on campus, he’s never killed a woman before now. She’s the outlier. She’s the one we need to focus on.”
Ford cut her off from reaching the lobby and gripped on to her arm, pulling her up short. “How? Our crime scene is being washed away as we speak, and the medical examiner can’t perform the autopsy until the storm passes. We don’t even have power or access to the internet.”
Leigh swallowed through the heat branching up her arm from his touch. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d gotten since stepping foot back in Durham. It shocked her system, and almost had her leaning in. Almost. Prying her forearm free, she cut her gaze to the university president surveying the student body crowded in the lobby. Her throat dried. “If we want to find Alice Dietz’s killer, we need to look in the one place police gave up on. We need solve Teshia Elborne’s cold case.”