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TWENTY-SEVEN

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

3:07 p.m.

Heavy footsteps aggravated each pulse of the pain in her head.

Something hard pressed into the left side of her body. Rough. And smelly. Leigh craned her head back, the rest of her body following. Bright lights punctured through the haze still clinging to her vision. When had she lain down? Where the hell was she?

An outline centered over her, growing larger as the person above her neared, but she couldn’t make out many details of a face. Her brain refused to catch up to her senses. Ford?

“You’re going to be okay.” Calluses caught against her jawline, a trail of sensation from ear to chin. Careful. Controlled. Soft. “The drug will clear your system soon.”

“Drug…” The word echoed over and over. Intensified the hard thud between her ears. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and her head… The more she tried to focus on his face, the further away he seemed to be. Leigh tried to reach for him, barely grazing a shirt. Her depth perception was off. Her entire body was off. And slow. Helplessness iced her veins. She was at the mercy of… whoever this was.

“Just a little something I came up with to buy us some time together.” Dark eyes came into focus then blurred all over again. “It’s temporary and fast-acting. There won’t be any permanent side effects once the drug leaves your system, but you might have a headache for a couple hours. I didn’t know of another way to get you alone.”

“Why? Who… you?” Wait. Did she actually say the words or was that in her head? She couldn’t be sure. Her thoughts weren’t making a whole lot of sense, and she hated it more than not knowing who’d killed Teshia Elborne, Alice Dietz, and Tamra Hopkins. And… someone else. Why couldn’t she think of their name?

“We don’t have much time, Leigh.” Her name leaving his mouth soured her stomach. It was familiar. As though they knew each other. His hand shifted to her forehead, sweeping hair away from her face. Too gentle. Too intimate. “I never planned for you to get involved. Did everything I could to make sure this didn’t blow back on you, but I need you to stop chasing this case. If you don’t, you’ll be the next body in the morgue, and I can’t finish this if you keep getting in my way.”

She pressed one hand against the industrial carpet in an attempt to sit up, but her body thought better of it. Slumping back to the floor, she tried to latch on to the man above her. To test that he was real. Her hand slipped right through him. Nothing but a ghost. “Morrow.”

Where was Professor Morrow? He was in danger… She had to stop the killer from finishing what’d he started. No. That wasn’t right. She’d been too late.

“Stop working this case, Leigh.” His outline shrank. Getting farther out of reach. “It’s the only way you’ll get out of this alive.”

Wait. Again, she wasn’t sure if she’d voiced the words aloud or if they’d gotten stuck in her head. Leigh rolled back onto her side to follow as his bottom half then his distant frame retreated and closed her eyes. It was harder to keep them open this time, and she sank back into unconsciousness.

Durham, New Hampshire

Thursday, October 10

4:16 p.m.

The outline took shape above her. One clarifying breath at a time.

“Shit, Leigh. I was getting worried.” Ford’s features solidified the longer she stared at him, but her neurons still felt fuzzy. Concern etched at the corners of his eyes. “Take it easy. I couldn’t find any evidence of head trauma, but people don’t usually pass out at random.”

“What… happened.” Her mouth dried on the words. She could taste the acid in her throat, feel it clogging her airway. The headache behind her eyes wasn’t as intense as before. You might have a headache for a couple hours. A mere whisper of voice lodged at the front of her mind.

Setting one hand on the hollow of her back, Ford took her hand and brought Leigh to her feet. His grip clamped down on her arm. “I went to get you some water, but when I got back, I found you unconscious in here. You must’ve collapsed.”

“Morrow.” The name was stale on her tongue. Her body didn’t feel like her own. More like something that’d been possessed. Too disconnected and otherworldly. Guess that fit in with the Halloween themes plastered all over this classroom. “He’s dead.”

Leigh reached for a table to get her feet under her. As much as she appreciated Ford’s assistance, she couldn’t work this case glued to his side. That just wasn’t professional. I need you to stop chasing this case . There was that voice again. Hell. Why couldn’t she get it out of her head? Had to have been a bad dream. Something her unconscious mind created to appease the internal drive to solve this case.

“Same MO as Dietz and Hopkins. Teshia Elborne’s, too.” Ford ensured she wouldn’t fall flat on her ass, retracting his hold on her. Though he kept close. “Whatever the killer had wanted from the professor, he obviously got it.”

“Except the unsub didn’t become Pierce Morrow.” She was sure of it, but the only confirmation they would get was through DNA, dental, or fingerprints. Those were the things that couldn’t be replicated by an imposter. “He’s deviated from his pattern again.”

“First with Alice, now with Morrow.” Ford backed up until his thighs hit the desk behind him, and suddenly he looked as beat as she did. The circles under his eyes were more pronounced now, his skin paler than a few hours ago. Then again, living off stolen candy bars from the vending machine wasn’t doing either of them any favors. While she’d gotten to take two naps—against her will or not—he’d been awake for more than twenty-four hours at this point. He wasn’t going to make it much longer without making mistakes. “Why now?”

“We’ve been running off the theory the killer chooses his victims and becomes them to fulfill different needs he can’t fill himself. I think the unsub sought out Morrow as a mentor.” The world wasn’t swaying anymore. Little by little she regained control of her limbs. Temporary . No permanent damage . Leigh scrubbed at her face. Pieces of the dream twisted into place. Shards as broken as the fluorescent light tube that’d shattered while she’d been wrapped around Ford. None of them fit together as a whole. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. More like… a memory. “Morrow has been living a lie for so long, it was bound to catch up to him. And it did. Just not in the way we thought.”

Leigh shoved that part of her that would mourn Pierce Morrow’s death deep down where she could ignore it for the next decade. “He wouldn’t tell me who’d approached him. Honestly, he seemed… scared. It’s possible the professor could identify whoever is carrying out these murders and was too ashamed to admit he hadn’t caught the red flags before now.”

“Another student?” Ford asked.

“No. Our killer has been traveling across the country over the past year. Not attending classes.” A student didn’t fit into their makeshift profile. They were looking for someone with an interest and knowledge in forensics. Someone practiced, potentially spanning decades. “As much as this unsub targets victims to fulfill certain needs, Morrow liked to collect professionals in his extensive network.”

“I talked with both forensic techs after you collapsed. They claim neither of them has been out of the other’s sight since the shelter in place order went into effect.” Ford pressed away from the table, unsteady. The change in his stance didn’t fit the marshal she’d come to know, the one who’d held her against that wall with his strength alone. It didn’t feel right to see him this vulnerable. “But if Morrow took on a mentee, there has to be record of our killer in the professor’s office or on his phone. Emails, video, and phone calls.”

“I can search Morrow’s office. As one of his former research assistants, I’ll know what to look for.” She closed the distance between them, testing her own balance, and stared up at him. Grabbing for the lapels of his suit jacket, Leigh forced his attention to her. “When was the last time you slept?”

“A while.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as though to chase back a headache. Reminding her of the one pulsing behind her eyes. His expression shadowed with the overhead lighting positioned at his back, and she tried to fit Ford’s features into that dark outline still vying for her attention from the dream. “I didn’t want to let my guard down or give this asshole an opening to come after you or any of those people in the lobby.”

I didn’t know of another way to get you alone.

Her brain worked to match the cadence and tone of the voice in her head to the man in front of her. Ford had her alone now. Why would he have needed to incapacitate her to buy them a few minutes together? The answer was already there. Waiting for her to come around. He wouldn’t have. Someone else had.

Someone had drugged her.

She’d been in this room with them. Talked to them. Leigh’s grip loosened, and she took a clear step back. Had she come face to face with the killer and not even realized it? Air stalled in her chest.

“Leigh?” For the first time, panic tainted the marshal’s use of her name. His hands slid along her arms. “You just went white. Are you about to pass out again?”

“I’m fine.” No. No, she was not. He’d been right there. Within reach, and she’d done nothing to stop him. Leigh moved for the door. “I… You should get some rest while you can. I’ll interview the forensic techs again and check out Morrow’s office.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Ford asked.

“Yes.” Another lie. Seemed they were starting to pile up, but how the hell was she supposed to explain to Ford that she may or may not have been in the same room as the killer and let him get away? The shame she’d hidden behind alibiing Dean Groves eighteen years previously stabbed through her as hot as the bullet she’d taken seven months ago. “Get some rest.”

Leigh shoved into the corridor, attempting to get her bearings. She’d been brought to a classroom at the opposite end of where they’d detained Professor Morrow. She wasn’t sure, but she could almost see Ford wanting to keep her as far from the bustle of the lobby and the room where Morrow’s body would have to wait for the ME. That made three now. And no answers as to who had killed them.

The unsub had managed to get to Morrow with no intention of letting him live. But Ford had a point. How was the killer managing to poison these victims when they’d already submitted the arsenic and cyanide from the biomedical lab into evidence?

Unless they’d never lost access.

Interview the forensic techs. Search Morrow’s office. Her goal was simple, but she found herself navigating back into the lobby in search of Ava. She’d made a mistake in bringing her adopted daughter here—she’d put her in danger—but letting Ava face this storm alone in a hotel room hadn’t sat right either. This was what they had to work with, and Leigh wasn’t sure it would ever be good enough. If she would ever be good enough.

Approaching Ava’s circle of friends, she pulled up short. “Where’s Ava?”

Five sets of eyes landed on her but only one student answered. “She went to the bathroom about twenty minutes ago. I was about to go check on her.”

“Thanks. I’ll do it.” There was only one set of bathrooms on this floor. Broken glass crunched under her shoes as Leigh cut down the corridor. She’d have to have someone in maintenance come clean up the remnants of the fluorescent light before someone cut themselves. Pushing inside, she picked up the sound of one of the showers running. Steam slid underneath her clothing as she approached. “Ava, everything all right?”

No answer.

A pooling sense of dread puddled at the base of her spine as she approached the shower door. Locked from the inside. Leigh tried to get a look through the too-narrow crack. She knocked. “Ava, open the door.”

The dread festered into something feral and panicked. Water crept beneath the foot-high space between the bottom of the thick metal and white tile. It was the only way in. “I’m coming in.”

Leigh didn’t wait for an answer, getting down on her hands and belly, and pulled herself through the opening. Her clothing soaked up burning hot water, but she didn’t care as she took in the sight of her adopted daughter huddled in the corner of the stall. “Ava.”

Brown eyes cut to her. Glassy and empty at the same time. “I killed him.”