Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Durham, New Hampshire
Sunday, October 13
10:17 a.m.
Everything hurt, and she was dying.
The hurricane had finally released those stuck under the campus shelter in place. Forty-eight hours. Six bodies, including the two forensic techs Ford had shot. Durham PD was still working on pumping flood waters from the campus basement, but it’d been easy for them to get to the imposter’s body. The barbiturate she’d dosed him with and Dean’s fist had knocked him unconscious, although that hadn’t stopped Ford’s autonomic nervous system from trying to breathe face down in three feet of water. But it was over. The man they’d known as Ford—soon to be identified by DNA, dental, and prints—would never hurt anyone again. The medical examiner had a hell of a few weeks ahead of him. In the end, Durham PD would be able to close eleven open murder investigations, including Teshia Elborne’s.
Leigh dragged her legs over the side of the bed. Three days she’d been stuck in this hellhole with no indication of when they’d let her leave. Scratchy sheets, thin gowns, no showers, too many visitors. She couldn’t take it anymore.
She’d only made it a few steps toward the door before it swung inward.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Shock widened Ava’s eyes. Her adopted daughter pointed over Leigh’s shoulder. “Get back in that bed. Right now.”
“You realize I’m the mother in this scenario, right?” As much as she hated being forced to sustain pokes, prodding, painkillers, and fake smiles from the staff, Leigh couldn’t hate Ava’s need to help. To stay close. With the case closed, they finally had the time together they deserved. And all the takeout they could stomach. Residual pain throbbed in her joints and wrists. And her face. Oh, and the strangulation bruises around her throat. She turned back for the bed. Making it out of this room might’ve been too lofty a goal, even with three days of fluids to counter the drugs Ford had dosed her with. Her hands planted on the mattress. She really didn’t want to get back in the bed. “I’m supposed to be the one to tell you what to do.”
“You can’t take care of me if you don’t take care of yourself.” Ava closed the distance between them, setting the grocery bag in hand on the side table. Unpacking the small white containers, she tossed a pair of chopsticks on the bed. “Bed. Now.”
“Listen here, warden. I’ve survived worse than torture.” Though she couldn’t give an example right now. And she didn’t owe a fifteen-year-old anything but a roof over her head, three meals a day, clothes, an education, and unconditional love. All of which was on the verge of being taken away if Leigh didn’t get out of this room.
“Don’t make me get Grandpa and Uncle Chandler.” Ava pointed a black plastic fork at Leigh’s face.
The warning was enough to put her back in bed. She loved her father and brother, but they wouldn’t go easy on her if she fought doctor’s orders. And she couldn’t stand to see their faces after being locked in the same room with them since the moment they touched down in Durham. “Fine. Thank you for the food.”
“You’re welcome.” Ava took her usual seat in the chair beside the bed, one of the white boxes and a fork in hand. It didn’t look remotely comfortable, but her adopted daughter didn’t mind the long hours, the talks with the physicians and nurses, and the copious amounts of MSG. “Have you given any more thought into what happens next?”
“You mean putting all this food in my mouth?” Leigh grabbed for one of the boxes. Sesame chicken, maybe? Her stomach was done with the hospital’s offerings. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I don’t think I can look at another Jell-O cup.”
“That’s too bad. I swiped some off a cart earlier. Thought we could watch reruns of Jerry Springer and have dessert in bed.” Ava’s teasing smile was new, and if Leigh was being honest with herself, the most beautiful sight after everything they’d been through. “I meant, after you get out of here.”
“I guess head back to Quantico.” That’d always been the plan. That was where their apartment was, where they’d started building their life. They hadn’t even given it a real shot before she’d been brought back to New Hampshire. But the words hit wrong. Leigh set the white box in her lap, her body immediately holding on to all the heat, and studied Ava. She’d made a promise back on that campus. To put Ava first. To stop using her work as a coping mechanism and distraction from hard things. To give their relationship a fighting chance. The past three days quarantined to this room had been nice, but this wasn’t reality. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Ava’s caramel-brown eyes locked on to her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, as if the prospect of giving up the one constant—an obsession she’d clung to her entire life—wasn’t a big deal. Because, right now, it wasn’t. Ava wasn’t happy in Quantico. While Leigh didn’t think she would keep running away now that they’d uncovered the root of Ava’s turmoil in killing her abductor in cold blood, Ava deserved to be happy. And it was Leigh’s job to make that happen. “I have savings. I could take a few months off from work. We could go anywhere. Just the two of us.”
The fifteen-year-old sat straighter, her own white container forgotten. “You’re serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
Ava shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief. “Because you love your job. You love working cases, and if the past three days in this room have taught me anything, it’s that you go insane if you don’t have something to do.”
“I love you more.” It was the truth. Ava was hers. State mandated or not, and there wasn’t anything— anything —Leigh wouldn’t give to keep her. “Besides, I consulted with departments all over the country before I started working for the FBI. I could do that remotely, if needed, and you could keep up with school and therapy from a laptop anywhere in the country.”
“What about Uncle Chandler and Grandpa?” Tears glistened in Ava’s eyes. “You just got them both back. You can’t leave them. They’ll kill each other if you’re gone for too long.”
That was true. But maybe it was time for her to let her family stand on its own legs while she stepped into this next stage of her life. Do something for herself.
“Ava.” Leigh set the white box back into the collection on the side table. “I made you a promise, and I’m keeping it. This is me putting you first. This is me choosing you over my job. So where would you want to go?”
“Clarksburg.” Her adopted daughter stared at her, as though waiting for Leigh to immediately shoot down the idea of going back to where Ava had once had a life. “I want to go home. And I know it won’t be the same. Mom’s not getting out anytime soon, and Dad is…” Dead. Her father was dead. “But it’s the place I love the most.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Leigh couldn’t fault her for that. They sat in silence for a few minutes—content in this new agreement between them—before a knock sounded at the door.
Ava jumped up to answer it, pulling the door open. To reveal Dean Groves on the other side. “If you’re here to take my mom’s blood again, she might kill you. And, believe me, she knows how to get away with it. She’s an FBI agent.”
Mom? Leigh’s chest threatened to explode. She’d never been called that before, never thought Ava would be the one to speak those words. The pain in her joints drained at the rush of warmth in her veins. “It’s okay, Ava. He’s a…” Friend? Ex? Life saver? She had no idea what to call Dean. “Person I know.”
“That sounded really convincing.” Ava narrowed that brilliant gaze on her, then onto Dean as if in warning. “I guess I’ll go see if I can find more Jell-O. Don’t let her get out of bed. No matter how much she manipulates you into agreeing with her.”
“I’m more than aware of what your mother is capable of.” A nervous laugh filled the hospital room as Dean stepped inside. Ava closed the door behind him, sealing them inside together.
“Not sure I want you here.” Leigh tried to focus on the food she’d set aside, but her nerves got the best of her. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Though she might have to hide some of it in case Ava came to make sure she’d eaten. Maybe one day she’d be a nurse like her biological mom. Only without the killer tendencies. “The last time we were alone in a room together, you punched me in the shoulder. Set my recovery back by a few weeks.”
“To be fair, we weren’t alone. Your partner—or whatever he was pretending to be—was on the floor unconscious.” Dean dared another step closer. His voice wavered, but damn it if that break in his confidence wasn’t human. She didn’t want to humanize him. She wanted him to go back to wherever he came from and stay there. “And I’m sorry about the shoulder. It was the fastest way to get you to back down.”
“You knew about my previous injury.” Not a question. He had to have studied her past case reports. “Seems unfair considering I know nothing about you.”
Dean didn’t have any argument to that. He took a seat in Ava’s chair, close enough for her to get a hint of whatever soap he’d used to shower. She was close to pouting again. She wanted a shower. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you leave?” She hadn’t meant to ask. It had nothing to do with the investigation or identifying the killer he’d been chasing these past eighteen years, but it was the only question that mattered to her.
“To protect you.” No hesitation. No guilt or apology. Dean Groves was still the blunt and confident man she’d fallen in love with so long ago, and she hated it. “I knew if I told you I was bring framed, you’d sacrifice your studies and opportunities to work with Morrow to help me. And if I told you I was going to find Teshia’s killer, you would’ve wanted to go with me. That’s just the kind of person you are. You fight for people. People like your dad and your brother. People like your daughter. It’s who you are, and it’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”
She didn’t want to believe that. That he’d felt the same for her as she had him. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know more than you think, Leigh.” Why did she want him to call her “little rabbit” again? Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The gunshot wound he’d sustained had obviously been stitched and dressed, but he showed no signs of pain. Jerk. “I never wanted to drag you into helping me clear my name, but I can’t say I’m not happy to see you now.”
That should’ve raised her defenses, but she wasn’t sure she had them anymore. At least, not against him. He’d saved her life down in that basement—twice—and gotten shot in the shoulder if the sling supporting his right arm was any indication. “If that’s true, why come back now?”
“Ford’s trail was heading east. Up into New Hampshire. He tried to hide it, but I knew he’d somehow caught on to my movements chasing him. I also knew there was only one thing in New Hampshire he could use to make me stop coming for him.” Dean’s gaze softened. Or was that the pain pills they had her on? “I wanted to make him answer for Teshia’s murder and clear my name, but once I realized he was coming for you… I couldn’t let him hurt you for the mistakes I’d made.”
“He killed Alice Dietz to bring me back here, said he knew I wouldn’t be able to turn down the opportunity for closure. I guess he was right.” Ford—the man she’d known as Ford—recreated the one crime that would guarantee her showing up exactly where he wanted her. Where it all started. And she’d fallen straight into his trap. Oh, hell. She’d even kissed him. Agreed to a date with him. If her brother ever found out, she’d never live it down.
“He was good at reading people’s weaknesses. If it wasn’t obvious before now, you’re one of mine.” The doubt had left his voice. “I’m sorry I disappeared on you without explaining. I know what giving me an alibi cost you, and I wanted to make it clear how grateful I am for you putting your trust in me. If I could go back, I would do things differently.”
Trust. Did she trust him? She had then. She wasn’t so sure now, but she didn’t really know him now.
“I know why you did it. Doesn’t mean I’m not still mad about it.” Eleven people dead. All because Dean wouldn’t let a killer get away with murder. A man after her own heart. Who believed evil should be punished, and that they could do something about it. Her voice failed her. “I was in love with you.”
“I was in love with you, too.” Dean set those dark eyes on her. Unwavering. “The second you rammed me with a moving box in that stairwell, you had me.”
She couldn’t stopper the laugh escaping up her sore throat.
“Do you think maybe we could start over?” Dean waited a beat, reaching for her hand at the edge of the bed. “I’ll let you throw another box at me if it’ll make you feel better.”
Hope knotted tight in her gut. She had a lot to consider. Taking another sabbatical from cases. Moving back to Clarksburg. Starting fresh with Ava. But that need for connection pulsed at the idea of reaching out. She’d thought Ford—the son of a bitch—could fix the isolation she’d clung to all these years, but while she’d fulfilled his need for understanding, he’d failed to meet hers in the end.
Maybe it was the fact she’d already taken that first step. Maybe it was Dean himself and everything they’d left unfinished, but she’d already made her decision. He was offering a future. One that didn’t come with so much doubt or fear. Leigh tightened her hold on his hand. “The next box I throw at you won’t be packed with pillows.”