Chapter 12
TWELVE
Durham, New Hampshire
Wednesday, October 9
5:14 p.m.
“This was everything of Alice Dietz’s I was able to find in my file cabinet. I’m not sure how it will help, but I’m certainly happy to assist however I can.” Taking his seat across the table, Professor Morrow handed off a stack of stapled papers.
She and Ford had managed to isolate him in one of the psychology classrooms under the pretense of asking for his help analyzing the investigation. Feeding into that magnificent ego. He wanted a piece of the pie, credit for vaulting her into stardom all those years ago, but it’d been her own experience with police investigations and murder that had given her the edge to keep going. He’d just supplied the textbooks.
“Thank you.” Leigh flipped through the papers. Crime prevention. Community policing. Economics of crime and patterns in crime. All topics typical of a criminology major, even some she’d studied herself on this very campus under his tutelage. “These will give us a better idea of who Alice Dietz was, her interests, experience, state of mind. All helpful.”
Not really, but Morrow was enamored to be here.
Morrow leaned back in his well-loved tweed jacket that looked the same as it had eighteen years ago. Some things didn’t change. “How is the investigation going, Leigh? Nobody will tell me anything.”
“Unfortunately, there’s not much to tell, and we can’t give you any specifics of an ongoing investigation.” Ford was to play the bad guy in this little conversation. The one who didn’t think a professor could add any insight into a murder case. Get their potential witness riled up enough to forget the story he’d told himself. “I’m not even sure why we’re talking to this guy. He’s a teacher.”
“Professor, actually, Marshal Ford, and one of the leading experts in the country on criminology.” Morrow was already taking the bait, the muscle in his jaw ticcing with the insult to his ego. They had to play this carefully. Too many attempts to get the professor to talk and he’d see through them. “In fact, I taught Leigh here everything she knows.”
She wasn’t going to argue. They had more important things to focus on.
“Now that you’ve had a chance to review Alice Dietz’s papers, is there anything that stands out to you, Pierce?” Leigh returned her focus to the paper in front of her. “She sat in two of your classes. Was she attentive? Did anything seem off in the days leading up to her death?”
“No. No. Nothing like that.” Morrow folded his arms across his chest, accentuating the leather patches at his elbows. Not one hair out of place. “In fact, things were going well for her, particularly in my classes. She clearly understood the material and went out of her way to exceed my expectations.”
Ford’s turn. “Did you ever speak to her outside of class? Did she attend office hours, or did she seek any kind of mentorship or research opportunities?”
“No.” Morrow dropped his gaze to the papers on the desk. He was shutting down.
“Alice Dietz was killed with a combination of arsenic and cyanide, same as Teshia Elborne was murdered eighteen years ago. From what we can see, there is no connection between the victims.” She had to give him a reason to stay engaged. To show off even. “Why do you believe Alice Dietz was targeted?”
“Well, she fits the profile, doesn’t she?” Morrow leaned forward in his chair. She had him. “Young, beautiful, successful by university standards. If I recall, Teshia Elborne was also blonde, fit, even had those big brown eyes.” The professor raised his gaze to Leigh’s. “Seems your killer has a type.”
His point was clear. And it was a type that looked identical to her appearance. Of course, he didn’t have all the information. He couldn’t possibly know there’d been four male victims before Alice Dietz had been displayed on that sidewalk, and she and Ford would keep it that way. Well, unless he was the killer Ford had been hunting. They had one goal here: to establish a personal connection between Morrow and the victim.
Leigh would have to push a little harder. “Do you believe both women were killed by the same unsub? Now, I can’t call him a serial offender with two bodies—” That the professor knew of. “But eighteen years is an extremely long cooling-off period, don’t you think?”
“May I assume Alice Dietz’s body was washed and bleached in the same manner as Teshia Elborne?” Morrow asked.
“From the hints of bleach the medical examiner noted at the scene, the killer most likely used the same chemicals to destroy any trace of DNA on the body. Like Teshia Elborne.” Leigh was willing to let that detail slide. “Scrubbed clean with bleach and dish soap.”
“Well, then this isn’t a copycat you’re looking for, seeing as how there weren’t that many details released to the public eighteen years ago, which makes me think Teshia Elborne and Alice Dietz were killed by the same unsub. I would conclude your killer is extremely disciplined.” Morrow’s eyes glazed over, the professor lost to whatever profile he was building in his head. “He most likely discovered the power to manipulate others as a young child, which gave him a sense of control he seeks. He’s intelligent, most likely well read. But he wouldn’t allow his compulsions to get the better of him. He makes the choice to kill, potentially explaining why he was able to go so long between kills. I would imagine his chosen hunting ground is tied to his past. Perhaps he was a student here or even a long-time resident of Durham. There is some resentment in his ties to this university, but at the same time, he can’t escape it. He has a preference for women, that’s obvious, but he likes the idea of a student. Believing he himself can teach her something.”
Despite the ruse she and Ford had created during this interrogation, Morrow had made a fair point. Manipulation. The killer they were hunting had to be able to read his victims and the people in his victims’ lives, and to adapt to any given situation. Become anyone based off face-to-face interactions. Serial offenders weren’t always sociopaths as popular media portrayed. They didn’t have to play pretend with emotion and try to mirror it back. There were some who simply enjoyed playing with those emotions. Looked at them like a game to be won.
The temperature in the room rose impossibly higher as Leigh worked her way through the stiff-necked, proud layers of the professor’s armor. “That would also mean he had a connection with both victims then and now through the university.”
“According to administration records, Professor, you’ve been here for twenty-three years,” Ford said.
Morrow flinched back as if he’d been physically struck. His attention sharpened on Ford, trying to recall everything he’d added to the profile. “I don’t see how that has any bearing on your current investigation.”
“Unless you’re the connection.” Ford’s voice held a hint of amusement. A cat toying with the mouse he’d cornered. “Teshia Elborne was a psychology major, wasn’t she? Didn’t you teach a couple psych classes back in the day?”
“Psychology and criminology both deal with human behavior, so yes, I’ve taught my fair share. Though my expertise lies in preventing crime. Not trying to get it into therapy.” Helplessness filtered across the professor’s face. He looked to Leigh for help, but she was happy to enjoy the show. “You can’t be serious, Leigh. You can’t seriously believe I had anything to do with these girls’ murders. You know me.”
That was true. She did know him. And he wasn’t a killer, but she’d thought the same of Ava’s mother. “According to her roommates, Alice Dietz has been acting suspiciously. Leaving the dorm in the middle of the night, becoming paranoid about anyone reading her phone. Simply put, Pierce, we believe she was having an affair with someone who could be ruined if the relationship went public. Maybe even get her expelled. Someone like a professor.”
Morrow tried to keep himself from shifting in his seat, but it was the little ways his shoulder tensed and the grind of his back teeth that told her he knew exactly where this was going. All those hours he’d spent drilling her on policing procedures, environmental crime, and research methods were being used against him. Was that the definition of ironic?
Leigh slid Alice Dietz’s work back across the table, flipped open to one page from the third paper. “You were a good mentor. Probably better than most. The problem is I remember what it’s like to be one of your students. In a way, you’re right. I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for you, but I know exactly what you expect of your mentees.”
She pointed out a section of the paper, and the color washed from Morrow’s face.
Ford leaned forward, hands interlaced on the surface of the table in front of him. Confident, letting her take the lead with this one.
“This section in Alice’s paper is almost word-for-word from one of your previous projects. One of the projects I helped you research as your assistant my junior year. I know for a fact your paper was rejected from three journals before you stuffed it in the back of your filing cabinets.” She had him. There was no way he could deny it. “There isn’t a single person alive you would let read one of your rejected papers unless they were helping you revise and research a new project. Which means, you lied to me, Pierce. Yours and Alice’s relationship was more than student and professor.”
“You were having an affair with our victim, and you lied about it,” Ford said. “What do they call that, Agent Brody? Oh, right. Obstruction of justice. You’re familiar with the term, aren’t you, Professor? It’s enough for an arrest.”
“Now, wait a minute. You have it all wrong.” This was the part when Morrow would panic, try to come up with any plausible reason Alice Dietz would’ve gotten her hands on his work. Plagiarism, theft, academic dishonesty. He’d built a career in criminology and criminal justice, but he’d still revert to his survival instincts when pressed. “Please. Just give me a chance to explain.”
Bingo.
“When was the last time you saw Alice Dietz alive?” She and Ford had yet to build a solid timeline of the victim’s movements leading up to her death, but the picture was getting a little clearer.
“Saturday night, early Sunday morning. We argued. I regret not telling you sooner, but I didn’t want to look… guilty.” The air leeched out of him, leaving nothing but a husk of the man she’d once looked up to. “Alice was my assistant this semester. She was helping me with a paper on crime mapping and predicting criminal patterns in certain areas to better utilize policing efforts and focus. She was bright and driven and, of course, I took notice of her.”
He motioned to the stack of papers on the desk between them. “We’d meet after classes. I’d help her with her assignments. Nothing big, just extra resources she could look into. Then we started meeting outside the office. Within a few weeks, she was coming to my home, and things … happened. It wasn’t planned, and I certainly never expected her to be murdered.” Morrow’s voice broke at that last word. “We knew if anyone discovered what we were doing, she would be expelled, and I would lose my job. All my work would’ve been for nothing. I’ve invested decades into my career as Marshal Ford has kindly pointed out, and I couldn’t risk our relationship going public. That’s what we argued about that night. She was tired of sneaking around. I told her…” He swallowed, before continuing in a miserable voice, “I would ruin her if she said a single word.”
They’d gotten what they’d wanted, and Leigh let it sit between them. The disgrace, the embarrassment, the grief. Morrow and his ego deserved it all. Though he’d probably take this experience and turn it into some kind of benefit. She collected the papers from the desk and pushed to stand. “I don’t believe you killed Alice Dietz, Pierce.”
“Why wouldn’t you consider me a suspect after I confessed I argued with the victim?” It was a good question, but they didn’t have the time to try to fit him into all the boxes. There was an actual killer on the loose.
“Because,” Leigh said, “I think you were the killer’s intended target.”