AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The original investigation.” Her pulse thudded hard behind her ears. “Police did their due diligence and interviewed friends, family, and neighbors around the time Chris Ellingson was first suspected of being involved in the boys’ disappearance.” She ripped open the cruiser’s passenger side door and tossed her duffle bag inside. “Michelle Cross accused Ellingson of killing those kids.”
THREE
Lebanon, New Hampshire
Thursday, March 11
2:00 p.m.
Pale green siding stood stark against the wrap of asphalt around the Ellingson family home. Built in the late 1800s as most of the other houses in the area were, the structure had been renovated since she’d left. Overgrown grass slowed their approach to the screened-in front porch running the width of one side of the house. Old wood protested under their weight as they climbed the four stairs to the main door. A row of trees blocked a straight-shot view of the crime scene on the other side. Perfect seclusion.
Boucher pounded against the rusted metal frame of the screen door, and the entire porch shook. “Michelle Cross giving a negative character statement against Ellingson during that investigation might just be a coincidence. So I’ll do the talking. Got it?”
They wouldn’t be here if he really believed that, but Leigh was comfortable in letting him take the lead. Despite her detailed knowledge of the original case and her experience consulting for different departments over the last decade, she predicted criminal behavior with data. She didn’t verbally interrogate it. All she had was theoretical training scenarios, crime statistics, and hefty neck strain due to years at a desk. “Got it.”
Her phone pinged from inside her coat pocket, and she made quick work of swiping the notification off the screen.
She’d missed another call.
Her doctor’s office was persistent. Leigh would give her that.
It’d started with blood. A lot of it. Now, some six weeks later, the physician’s assistant was still calling to give her the results of the ultrasound. She would’ve given up or left a message with more than a “Please give me a call back when you get this” if everything had come back clear.
Her mother had suffered from uterine cysts for years. That was all this was, and it hadn’t killed her. Right now, though, Leigh had more important things to worry about.
Rusted liquid dripped from the roof a few feet away and exploded as it hit the asphalt in rhythm to her racing pulse. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter. The consistent feedback took the edge off her nerves. She scanned the length of the home, all the way back to the parked car and detached two-car garage. Wrapped in white siding and built with an updated design from the rest of the house, it failed to blend two distinct time periods together. There was a metaphor that applied to her two separate lives in there somewhere. One grounded in this town. One constructed out of the assurances and distance she’d relied on since escaping. She couldn’t stop both of those lives merging now.
Heavy footsteps registered from inside.
A dark outline solidified on the other side of the screen door. Corroded hinges protested as Chris Ellingson shoved the door outward.
“Is that Gabriel Boucher after all these years?” Ellingson leaned his weight against the doorframe, wiping oil-stained hands into an equally stained rag. Stringy brown hair moved with the breeze coming through the wall of trees separating this property from the crime scene. Snow swirled along the overgrown grass and around Ellingson’s near black eyes. “Hell, here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me.”
“It’s Lieutenant Boucher now.” Boucher’s shoulders seemed to pull back without conscious permission.
“Lieutenant?” A thin smile hiked one corner of Ellingson’s mouth, and Leigh was instantly reminded of the times he’d smiled at her when he’d visited her brother at home. As the town’s only child psychologist, he’d taken a position as the elementary school, middle school, and high school on-staff counselor, giving him access to countless victims, but Ellingson hadn’t limited himself to school hours. There’d been weekly visits at their home, check-in phone calls, and sent-home assignments. No matter the time of day, Ellingson had cemented himself in her brother’s shadow. “I always knew you’d make something of yourself.”
“Mr. Ellingson, you remember Leigh Brody. She’s consulting with Lebanon PD on an incident that happened not too far from here.” Boucher motioned to her. “We’re here to talk to you about anything unusual that might’ve occurred around your property or your neighbor’s last night. May we come inside?”
A prickling sensation shot down her spine as Ellingson’s gaze shot to her. She’d been trained to neutralize threats during her admission to the police academy and time with Concord PD, but Chris Ellingson surpassed anything she’d studied.
“Now’s not a good time. I’m in the middle of fixing the furnace, you see. I’m also not particularly fond of having police in my home after the last time I submitted myself to questioning cost me my job. I’m sure you can understand.” Ellingson rose to his full height around six-two. A giant compared to the children he’d murdered. “What’s so special about last night?”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.” Leigh’s defenses kicked in. She could only steady her breathing for so long when facing off with the man who’d most likely slaughtered her brother and his best friend and framed her father for the crimes.
“Brody… Brody. I know that name.” Ellingson pointed at her, sinking back against the door frame, and crossed one ankle in front of the other. “You’re Troy’s sister. Gosh, I was devastated when I heard what’d happened. With your father, too. He had a hell of a way with his students. Never thought him the type to hurt anyone.”
Heat flooded into her neck and face as his accusation sliced through her guard. So casual. As if the bastard hadn’t known he was twisting the blade deeper. Leigh wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
In the same way a serial killer built up a tolerance derived from the prolonged pleasure from a kill, she’d honed her own brand of tolerance over the years. Rehearsing this exact conversation hundreds of times, imagining running into him if she were to ever return to Lebanon, picturing his face staring back at her as she checked the locks on her windows and doors every night. Every detail, from the too-wide base of his nose to the soft, almost baby-faced roundness of his features, had burned into her memory a long time ago. He was a little more worn now, had added a few more pounds, and gotten slower with his words. As though he’d rehearsed his answers, but one thing hadn’t changed.
He was the perfect predator.
The kind victims would never see coming.
She could do this. She wasn’t one of his victims. She wasn’t going to let him take up space in her head. “I remember you from the night of the memorial. It was kind of you to show our families the support we needed.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” A brightness that hadn’t been there before edged into Ellingson’s eyes. “Now, I don’t believe for a minute Agent Brody is here all the way from Clarksburg for nostalgia, Lieutenant. Want to tell me why you’re really standing on my porch?”
