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SIX

Durham, New Hampshire

Wednesday, October 9

12:02 p.m.

Eighteen hours.

An entire lifetime since the killer had dumped Alice Dietz’s body in front of Thompson Hall.

Leigh studied the bunch of wiring in her hand. Severed clean from the emergency generator. Intentional. She tossed the collection of cables beside Ava and scrubbed her hands down her slacks. The forensic techs hadn’t found any fingerprints. Whoever had sabotaged the generator had most likely worn gloves. Marshal Ford had taken point in following maintenance and university police to the generator room in the basement. With any luck, their killer had left something of himself behind for them to follow. Without power, they no longer had access to surveillance footage taken from around campus. Had that been the intention? But why hadn’t campus police or Marshal Ford tried to access it before now? Why wait? Damn it. This storm was pulling every lead out from under them without even trying.

“Agent Brody?” A soft-voiced, pale young woman penetrated Leigh’s peripheral vision. She tightened her hold around her backpack straps at each shoulder as she approached, one of thirty-six stranded people in this building. Strawberry blonde hair. A dusting of freckles. No hint of nerves in her voice. Confidence bubbled from expertly done natural makeup to enhance blue eyes the color of the bay—nothing too heavy—and mid-label clothes meant to instill a sense of money. Most likely earned through her part-time job as a barista. Leigh could smell the coffee grounds from here. “I’m Tamra Hopkins. The police said you wanted to talk with me. About Alice.”

“Tamra. Thanks for meeting with me.” Leigh forced herself off the bench shoved against the lobby wall with an reassuring swipe at Ava’s knee. The surgical sites across her midsection stretched tight. While there wasn’t any pain left over from her last brush with the surgeon who’d stripped her of her uterus, her body clung to the phantom pain. Her blazer was still damp from the raging downpour, and she doubted there was any chance of it drying anytime soon as humidity worked through the main glass doors. “You and Alice were roommates.”

“Jeana and I, yeah.” The girl nodded, her mouth curling into a simple smile. “I can’t believe something like this happened. I haven’t stopped thinking about what I could’ve done better. If I could’ve stopped this from happening.”

“It’s natural to feel that way, especially when you lose someone close. Let’s start small.” Leigh motioned Tamra closer to the main doors the majority of students avoided to keep from getting wet for privacy. “Were you and Alice close?”

“No. Not like her and Jeana anyway,” Tamra said. “We mostly avoided each other. You know how some people just don’t get along?”

“Why didn’t you two get along?” Leigh attempted to ease Tamra’s sudden nervousness by forcing the tension out of her shoulders. Mirroring. The brain’s most powerful weapon during interviews and interrogations. “Did anything specific happen between you two?”

“It’s stupid, really.” Tamra laughed as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. Then shook her head to jar the memories free. “I accidentally picked up her phone off the desk thinking it was mine while she was in the bathroom getting ready last week. We have the same case. The phone wasn’t locked, and I shouldn’t have, but I got a look at her messages. I think she was talking to a guy. I didn’t even understand what I was seeing before she freaked out and started screaming at me about invading her privacy or some shit.”

They hadn’t recovered a phone on Alice’s body or from her dorm room. Had the killer taken it? “Can I see your phone?”

Tamra handed it over without hesitation. The cover was simple, clear plastic. The killer might’ve taken it for himself, but without a way to a track it using GPS as long as the towers were down—with another of Alice’s devices—they would have to use old-school techniques.

Leigh offered it back. “You said she was messaging a guy. Could you tell what kind of relationship the two had? Was he a family member, a boyfriend?”

They were still waiting on a list of acquaintances, professors, friends, and family names in Alice’s life, but with the power down and the generator out of commission, it was going to take too long until they got what they needed.

“I didn’t get a good look at more than a few words, but from the way she reacted, I could tell she was embarrassed.” The corners of Tamra’s mouth puckered as she squinted down between her feet. “Like it was some kind of secret.”

“Did she ever talk to you about someone she was seeing?” Could this mystery man be their killer? It took a lot of strength to drag a dead body to the middle of the Thompson Hall courtyard. The building itself was a good hundred feet from the main road with the nearest parking lot more than a block away. Whoever had dumped her body last night would’ve had to carry her in. Their unsub was most likely male. Much stronger than his victim. But without the location of where Alice Dietz had been killed, there were too many other variables to consider. “Or maybe any problems she was having?”

“No, but like I said, after I accidentally picked up her phone, she went out of her way to avoid me.” Tamra hugged her backpack tighter, and the first real glimpse of grief stained her blue gaze. “I wanted to tell Jeana about what happened. When I saw Alice’s messages. But she got so mad at me for even seeing them, I was scared of what she might do if she found out I talked to someone else about it.”

Leigh didn’t understand. “You said you didn’t see more than a few words.”

“I didn’t, but the ones I saw… It sounded like a threat.” Tamra’s voice broke on the last word. A frozen lake cracking under pressure. “Whoever she was talking to threatened her if she said anything, he would find her. And make her regret it.”

Pressure pooled at the base of Leigh’s neck. Since arriving on the scene this morning, she and Ford had hit nothing but obstacle after obstacle, but this was a real lead. Something that could point them in the right direction and add more context to Alice Dietz’s last days. “What didn’t this person want her talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Tamra shook her head. “That was all I was able to make out in the few seconds I had her phone. Alice came out of the bathroom and started screaming at me after that.”

“What about the person’s contact information at the top of the message?” Leigh asked. “Do you remember a name or a phone number?”

“It had a 603 area code.” The redhead cut her gaze to a grouping of students near the stairs to the second story, and a flush of pink filled her face. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Durham, New Hampshire. Someone local? Most students kept their numbers from home, but without the exact number Alice was in contact with, they had nothing until the cell carrier responded to a warrant request. Which she couldn’t submit without internet or cell service. A growing knot of frustration tightened in Leigh’s gut. Eighteen hours in, and all they had was a dead girl’s name. “When was the last time you saw Alice, Tamra?”

“Saturday night, though I don’t think she knew I saw her.” Tamra shifted between her feet, growing more agitated the longer her friends watched her from their circle across the lobby. “She was sneaking out again. I’m not even sure if Jeana knew.”

The descending silence cut short as Marshal Ford came up from the basement into the lobby. Leigh attempted a smile to reassure Alice’s roommate. “Thank you, Tamra. You’ve been a great help.” She pulled a business card from her blazer, slightly damp, same as the rest of her. “I know cell towers aren’t really reliable right now, but if you think of anything else that might help us find who did this to Alice, please let me know.”

“I will.” Tamra headed toward the back of the building into a gathering crowd of students, swallowed by the stranded masses.

Leigh forced her attention to Marshal Ford. “What’s it looking like down there? Any chance they’ll be able to repair the generator and get the power back up?”

“Not unless a whole new unit drops in their laps. It’s a massacre.” He swiped a line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, but his wire-rimmed glasses still took a dive down his nose.

Damn it. The past month with a teenaged daughter had tested her patience to levels she’d never thought possible. Leaving very little to rely on now. “Were the forensic techs able to pull prints?”

“No luck. Son of a bitch must’ve been wearing gloves when he hacked at that thing,” Ford said. “I noticed the cameras down there were unplugged too. Even if we had power, I doubt there would be anything on the surveillance feeds.”

Which meant whoever’d sabotaged the generator had known where the cameras were installed and how to navigate the basement to get to it in the first place. “This doesn’t make sense. There is no way our unsub could’ve known a hurricane was heading in our direction and that it would knock out the power. Why go for the generator in the first place? And why are you and campus police only now trying to access them? It should’ve been one of the very first things you requested after Alice Dietz’s body was discovered.”

A flash of heat filtered into Ford’s expression, and the Boy Scout front slipped. “I requested access to the feeds within the first thirty minutes of stepping onto the scene, Agent Brody. The university president told me I needed a court order. To protect student and faculty privacy rights. Campus police doesn’t have the authorization to request warrants. We had to go through Durham PD to submit the request to the judge, and with everything being digital…”

Shit. Of course he’d already submitted the warrant request. And now they couldn’t get to the feeds even with a judge’s signature. Regret simmered under her skin and made her all the more uncomfortable in her own clothes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed?—”

“That I have no idea what I’m doing?” The notch of a smile was back. Ford finally removed his fogged glasses and stuffed them in his breast pocket. “It’s a good assumption when it comes to this case.”

“All right. So we have a body in the morgue that’s been presumably cleaned and bleached of evidence, a crime scene under a hurricane warning, and no surveillance to determine the route the killer took on and off campus when dumping Alice Dietz’s body.” And an eighteen-year-old cold case that might connected to their victim. “What about witnesses?”

“University police are still in the process of collecting statements,” Ford said. “As of right now, most people don’t even recognize our victim. The few who do seemed to go out of their way to avoid her, especially in class. Apparently, Alice Dietz was very passionate about making her opinion known.”

The University of New Hampshire was home to more than 15,000 students during any given semester. More in fall and spring than summer. It would be impossible to interview them all.

“Her roommates were under the impression she’s been sneaking around with a boyfriend she didn’t want anyone to know about,” Leigh said. “From what Tamra has told me, it’s possible he threatened her. Last either of them saw her was Saturday night, which means Alice disappeared between then and Monday morning when Jeana went to campus police.” Leigh tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. That left two days unaccounted for in their timeline. “The medical examiner’s office should have a backup generator, but they will be using it sparingly. Autopsies won’t be their priority. They’ll turn their focus to protecting the building from flooding, so there’s very little chance we’ll have Alice Dietz’s autopsy results soon.”

Mere hours into this investigation, they were dead in the water. “Have you heard from Alice Dietz’s parents?”

“Campus police notified them of her death last night.” Ford slipped his hands into his pockets. “They’re trying to get here as fast as they can from California, but with the storm it’s likely it’ll be a couple days before we hear from them.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

A warning signal telling her to move. To run.

That she was being watched.

“What do we do?” Ford’s question was overrun by an increase in noise.

Leigh caught movement at the end of the corridor, over the heads of the group of students sheltering in place. A man. Standing perfectly still in the commotion of crisis. Intense, near-black eyes locked on hers. His close-cropped hair and height set him apart from every other person in the room. The angled jawline, the tendoned bunch of his shoulders. Familiar. Terrifying. Her chest constricted. One second. Two. A rush of confusion—and something more she didn’t want to identify—had her taking a step forward. “Dean.”

“Agent Brody?” Ford took position directly in front of her, cutting off her view. And broke the spell. “Leigh?”

She sidestepped the marshal and scoured the corridor. Blood drained from her upper body, cementing her in place. He was gone. Damn it. “Did you see him?”

Ford followed her gaze, twisting at the hips. “See who?”

“Dean Groves.” She was sure of it. “He was standing there. Just… staring at me.”

Challenging her.

“Groves is here?” Ford pulled his radio from his belt and pressed it to his jawline. “Possible suspect sighting in Thompson Hall, main floor. All units, suspect is Dean Groves, dark hair, approximately six foot four and forty years old. Be advised. He is potentially armed and dangerous.”

Leigh didn’t catch the rest of Ford’s instructions. Hesitation loosened its stranglehold on her body. She turned back to Ava. “Don’t go anywhere.” Then she rushed toward the location she’d spotted Dean. Logic slammed into place as students clogged the corridor. Her heart rate spiked as adrenaline dumped into her veins.

She shoved through the congested hallway, nearly losing her footing from the resisting force of students. The main hallway ended in a T. Giving her two options. One mistake, and she’d lose him. Instinct had her carving left and picking up the pace. There weren’t as many faculty and stranded students in this part of the building. They’d mostly kept to the lobby. Dean would’ve chosen it for the pure chance of getting away. “FBI! Move!”

Bystanders parted down the middle and flattened themselves along the walls on either side of her. Questions and shouts reached her ears from behind, but she didn’t have the attention span to decipher them for anything other than surprise.

She wasn’t going to let him get away this time.

She’d waited too long for this. For him.

Classrooms begged for her to take the time to search each individually as she passed, but Dean’s need to escape would override his desire to stay hidden. He wouldn’t risk getting pinned down by the storm of police closing in on this building. “Dean!”

She was in pursuit. Closing in. She could feel it.

The single glass door ahead slammed closed fifty feet in front of her. An exit on the west side of the building. It should’ve been locked when the shelter in place order had gone into effect. The backs of her thighs burned as she pushed herself to catch up with him.

“Brody, wait!” Ford was behind her. Trying to give her an advantage if faced with an armed suspect. But she wouldn’t stop.

Not until Dean Groves was in handcuffs.

Until she made him pay for everything he’d put her through.

Leigh threw herself into the door’s crossbar and shoved free of the building. It ricocheted off the brick as she ran straight out into the storm. Water spit against her face and drenched her all over again.

But there was no one there.