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She was his big sister. She was the one who was supposed to help him navigate crushes and teach him how to talk to girls. The one to help him with his homework and pick the best teachers for his school schedule. Who else was going to watch X-Men with her without making fun of her?
Leigh navigated along the path she’d mapped out early this morning on a roundabout way to school. It’d been easier to see with the sun coming up. One wrong step now and she might end up in the river and die of hypothermia. Cold bit into her cheeks and over-sensitized her teeth. Winter was still hanging on with a death grasp, and she huddled deeper into her coat. The river made everything around it colder. She should’ve at least brought her mittens.
Seconds stretched into sluggish, frozen minutes, but relief took hold as she spotted the outline of the covered bridge up ahead set against a cloudless sky and a spattering of stars. She was getting close. Warm yellow light bled through a break in the trees. The house was set back away from the gravel road leading up to it, but she could just see a hint of light coming from the window at the front.
Her exhale clouded in front of her mouth as she worked to catch her breath. And waited for any signs of movement. Nerves were getting the best of her, prickling at her skin and pumping up her heart rate. That detective—Maynor—had brought Mr. Ellingson in for questioning about Troy’s disappearance. The news was going around all the schools and between parents, but he’d been at the high school the day after Troy’s disappearance. Like nothing had happened, like her entire world hadn’t imploded. She ran her thumb along the infantryman’s rifle. He had to know more than he was letting on. She was going to find out what.
Branches and twigs pulled at her hair as she shoved through the tree line. Gravel crunched under her feet with every step, louder than it should’ve been. Despite the cold, her skin felt as though it was on fire. She rounded to the back of the house, away from the light at the front. She tried to keep low and move fast.
She reached the first basement window well and stopped to listen for signs she’d tipped her hand. She could do this. She had to do this. For Troy. Cold steel bit into her fingers as she climbed backward down into the well. Spiderwebs, weeds, and old rodent bones collected against her jeans, and it took everything she had not to chicken out. Leigh crouched to get a view through the window, fingers tented against the glass.
It was too dark. She couldn’t see inside. She’d have to go in.
Leveraging her palms against the pane, she pushed it as hard as she could to one side, but it wouldn’t budge. A dowel had been inserted into the track. “Damn it. Think.”
She didn’t have any other options. Feeling through the dirt and webs and tiny skeletons around her, she fisted a good-sized rock and held her breath.
Leigh rammed it through one corner of the window.
The sound jolted her so hard, she fell back against the well wall. Anyone inside would’ve heard it. She had to move. Now.
Dislodging the dowel, she shoved the window aside and practically fell forward through the frame. Bare concrete rushed up to meet her, and her front tooth took the biggest hit. The pain radiated up through her cheeks and nose as she ran her tongue along the sharp corner. No blood. But her parents would ask her what’d happened. It was so dark, she couldn’t see where the shard had gone. Why hadn’t she brought a flashlight? “Troy?”
No answer.
Leigh got to her feet, skimming the walls with both hands. There had to be a light switch here somewhere. Or at least a pull string. Her fingertips found raw wood shaped into a railing, and she reached overhead. There. Light filled the room.
But it was empty. “No. No, no, no, no.”
Troy was supposed to be here.
She was going to bring him home. She was going to fix this.
Footsteps echoed from above, dislodging dust into her face. Leigh scrambled for the window she’d come through. Broken glass cut into her palm—dead center—as she dragged herself up the ledge.
Strong hands ripped her back. “Leigh Brody.”
She knew that voice. Had Troy recognized it, too?
She tried to keep her composure as she struggled to get free.
But Mr. Ellingson was a lot stronger than he looked. “I’m so very disappointed in you.”
Lebanon, New Hampshire
Tuesday, March 16
9:00 a.m.
The student had become the teacher.
But that didn’t bode well for Carter Boucher.
Blood had seeped into the cement around the body, giving the impression of a Rorschach test gone horribly wrong. Leigh had stared at Chris Ellingson’s face long enough for it to engrave itself into her mind, but there was no sense of relief. No closure. The man responsible for the deaths of two boys—possibly more—and for the arrest of an innocent man was dead, and it was the worst outcome she could think of.
The stab wounds and cuts mirrored those found on the first three victims. But based on the amount of blood left behind, the pain etched into Ellingson’s face, the unsub had taken his time. “How long ago?”
Director Livingstone watched as the ME’s office technicians maneuvered the body into a bag. “Medicolegal investigator says the victim was killed within the past six hours, but we won’t know anything for certain until the autopsy. Considering the Concord ME’s office is down a pathologist when they were already understaffed, it’ll take a few days to get someone else.”
