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Chapter 29

Tuesday, March 16

10:00 p.m.

She and Troy used to play here.

Leigh shouldered out of her rental, cringing against the bite of the Mascoma River running mere feet from the hard-packed single-lane road. She swept her flashlight beam over the snow. One wrong step and the steep incline leading down to the water would ensure she'd never make it back up. She buried deeper into her coat, but the cold only tunneled faster.

Black mold had closed the watermill long before she and Troy had dared each other to take turns by stepping inside. Rumors had circulated through school about the place being haunted, but the truth was the city had closed it down due to health issues they couldn't remediate. It wasn't long before a newer mill was built down the river while this one slowly deteriorated from the inside.

Two stories of brown brick held up against the crushing pressure of the Mascoma, but she noted the toll of abandonment. Boarded windows shook with the slightest brush of the wind. The weeds had been given free rein, overrunning the wooden staircase leading down onto the main floor level with the water and an air conditioning unit. The chimney had crumbled to half-mast while the nearest corner of the structure looked as though losing one more brick would send the entire place into the dark depths. "Yup. I'm going to die here."

Moonlight reflected off the back window of a car parked up ahead. Tire treads had kept their shape with dropping temperatures, right up the short drive. She'd stared at crime scene photos from Packard Hill Bridge enough to recognize the pattern. The car, too. Whoever'd delivered Michelle Cross to her final resting place had used Chris Ellingson's mother's vehicle. Leigh slowed to take a photo of the license plate and treads with her phone, then sent it straight to Livingstone with her location. She'd been instructed to wait for backup, but Carter Boucher didn't have much time left. Pocketing her device, she followed the tire tracks until they ended at the top of the staircase.

She gripped the top of the snow-covered banister, ice shooting through her hand. The mill had been left to rot, and the wood hadn't held its own against time. Groaning protests filled the night as she set her weight on the first step. One down. Only thirty or so more to go. She took her time, each step more deteriorated than the last as she worked her way closer to the river.

A high-pitched whine reached her ears.

Her foot fell through.

Gravity jerked her downward. Leigh clamped on to the railings, letting go of the flashlight. The beam disappeared into the raging water beneath the staircase and was lost. Pain arced up her shin as wood cut into the blisters, and it took everything she had to bring herself topside. Rough exhales crystalized in front of her mouth as she stared down at what might've been her last few moments, her heart still lodged in her throat. She sank back against the opposite handrail and willed her pulse to slow. "That was my favorite flashlight."

She hadn't brought another. Stepping over the Leigh-shaped hole in the staircase, she managed to reach the landing outside the main entrance to the mill in one piece. Both glass panes in the door were missing. She tested the doorknob. The freezing metal released its hold, and she pushed through.

Nothing but darkness and dank met her on the other side.

Shapes stood out with the help of moonlight coming through a window at the back. Water rippled along a worn cement floor, but it was too dark to confirm this was where the black mold had transferred onto Gresham Schmidt's and Michelle Cross's bodies. Most likely Roxanne Jennings's, too. "Not creepy at all."

Without power or her flashlight, her memory of the place would have to be enough. She moved slower than she wanted to go, taking in the stretches of beams ready to fall at any moment. The structure itself groaned as though waking from a deep sleep, but the sound of the river had quieted in here.

Leigh narrowly avoided clocking her head on an oversized, rusted-out piece of machinery left behind by the building's mill days. She could almost feel the exact spot where she'd collided with it on hers and Troy's first visit inside. They'd lied to her mother about where she'd gotten the gash, wanting to keep this place their own little secret. This was where their stupid bickering disappeared. They could just be… siblings. No school psychologists. No expectations. No pretending to be too good for each other in front of their friends.

What she wouldn't give to feel that again.

That freedom from the violence and hatred waiting outside these walls.

Her jacket scraped along one wall. Too loud. Grabbing for the fabric, she felt something wet. Slimy. Mold? Leigh rushed toward the only window allowing in light. A dark stain spread across her hand, and she wiped it down the front of her coat as thoroughly as she could. She faced the open room, trying to see through the veil of shadows closing in. "I know you were here."

Movement registered from her left.

Her nerves rocketed into overdrive. She pressed her shoulder blade into the window frame then farther along the wall, away from any finger of moonlight. Waiting. The noise could've been from a branch cascading down the river and hitting the side of the building for all she knew, but past experience told her never to make assumptions.

"Leigh?" That voice. It started a flood of memory from her first day back in Lebanon, then quantum leaped to the scene where Chris Ellingson's body had been found.

Leigh willed her senses to catch up. The harder she focused on where the voice had originated, the more shapes took form. Until she could make out an entire person wedged against the wall. "Chandler. What… What are you doing here? Where have you been?"

"Here." That throaty voice didn't hold the same confidence as Leigh remembered. "I'm not sure how long. Not sure how long I have left." That last word shook more than it should have.

Her eyes finally adjusted enough to see Chandler Reed hadn't moved from his position on the floor. Crouching at the federal investigator's side, Leigh reached out, connecting with the man's shoulder. Some kind of crust flaked against her hand, but worse, the shape of a blade protruding from the wound materialized. Understanding clicked into place, and a rush of dread filled her stomach.

Chandler had become a victim.

"You've been stabbed. How many times?" Her voice shook on the last word, but she had to stay logical if she was going to get them out of here.

A shallow laugh filled the space between them. "I lost count. He's good. I'll give you that. Knows exactly how to strike without letting his victims bleed to death by avoiding all the major organs until the time is right. I'm thinking of starting a knife collection. What do you think? Should I keep these ones?"

Leigh was careful in moving her hand down the investigator's side. A second blade. Then a third. Her touch shifted the handle of another, drawing a hiss from the unsub's latest victim. How many others were there? "I'm calling an ambulance." She went for her phone. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Don't bother, Leigh. There's no service." A solid thunk sounded from the wall. Chandler Reed set his head back. "Besides, you'll never be able to drag me out of here yourself without dislodging the blades. You hear that? The place is about to collapse. You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you here to die." Her broken screen lit up the investigator's face. No service. Leigh ignited the flashlight feature on her phone. White light blinded both of them for an instant, and the reality of the situation took hold. "Chandler."

Horror clawed deep through muscle and bone. Chandler's vintage T-shirt had stained crimson, his slacks torn in strategic areas. His once undefeatable styled hair clung to layers of black mold climbing the wall behind him. It wasn't just three or four blades as she'd estimated. This… This was nothing she'd ever seen. A dozen. More.

Leigh wanted to draw them out, but doing so would only end up killing the investigator faster. She hadn't meant for this. She hadn't meant for any of this.

"Impressive, right? I told you I'd lost count." Chandler rolled his head back and forth. "I tried, Leigh. I tried to see this through—for your sake—but I think I'm going to have to take a few days of personal time off. Take a step back from the case."

"I'm going to get you out of here. Backup is already on the way." Leigh latched on to the man's shoulder, to give some semblance of comfort, but Chandler didn't react. "Hang on a little bit longer. Okay?"

"I thought I was going to be a hero," Chandler said. "I thought I could fix this."

A violent cough robbed Chandler's next words and shifted the blades sticking out of his body. His resulting cry stripped the investigator raw. They were talking on borrowed time. The human body could only take so much, and Chandler had already lost a good amount of blood.

"Chandler, you sent me that report from Dr. Jennings. About the mold. About this place. It was dated the day before her body turned up in Colburn Park." Leigh framed his face with both hands. "Dr. Jennings's home and workspace were searched. There were no signs of her reports concerning this case. Where did you get it?" She'd keep him talking about the case. She would not give in to panic or emotion.

"I found it… on the federal servers." His eyelids sagged. "He couldn't access it…"

Leigh grabbed for his shoulders and dug her fingernails into Chandler's skin, trying to keep him conscious. "Who? Who did this to you? Who killed those other victims?"

The investigator's eyes slipped closed. Blood leaked from the corner of Chandler Reed's mouth. No. He wasn't dead. Not yet. Not like this.

Leigh buried the urge to shake him awake. Tears burned in her eyes as helplessness washed over her. Backup was on the way. He just had to hang on for a little while longer, and this would all be over. "Chandler, tell me. Who's behind this?"

"The boy who escaped," Chandler said.

Leigh released her hold and sat back. Escaped? There were no reports of other boys in the area missing during the time her brother and Derek Garrison were killed. No calls to police about an abduction or an attempted abduction from anywhere in Lebanon or the surrounding cities. She'd checked. Hundreds of times. Unless… Her stomach hardened as though she'd swallowed a rock. Unless Michael Agutter wasn't the only victim Chris Ellingson had kept alive for an extended period of time.

Leigh recounted everything that'd happened. "Baby teeth."

Michelle Cross had stolen Derek Garrison's baby teeth and presumably taken the ones her own mother had kept of Troy's in her jewelry box in the closet. To prove the DNA matched the bodies buried in the cemetery. She'd known. She'd known there was another potential boy out there. That one of Chris Ellingson's victims had escaped his kidnapper. That was why Michelle had become a target. Why Gresham Schmidt was murdered. Why Roxanne Jennings's body turned up in Colburn Park. They'd all gotten one step closer to a truth never meant to be uncovered. "The unsub doesn't want anyone to know he's alive."

The floor shook beneath her. Then snapped on the opposite end of the room. A gust of wind chased through the crack splintering down one wall. The building was falling apart at the seams. Sounds of rushing river water grew louder.

They had to get out of here.

"Come on, Chandler. Wake up." She set her feet beneath her and fisted the investigator's T-shirt in both hands, but Chandler's head only slumped forward. She didn't have any other choice. "I'm sorry. This is going to hurt."

She maneuvered Chandler onto his back and dragged from the investigator's shoulders. The blades were localized to his front. As long as she didn't jar him too much, there was still time. She had to believe that. There had to be a chance she'd gotten here in time.

The floor jolted down, and Leigh lost her balance. She severed her hold on Chandler, falling backward. Old machinery screeched as it slid a few inches away from the wall where it'd sat for more than two decades.

And the investigator was right in its path.

An entire half of the building had shifted downward. They were going to end up crushed beneath forty tons of bricks, beams, cement, and water any second now. Leigh's phone skidded across the floor and hit the opposite wall, out of reach. The river penetrated one corner of the room and started the process of swallowing up evidence as though it meant nothing. "Shit."

She grabbed Chandler's bloodied hand. Her ribs screamed against the pressure of pulling the investigator closer, but she managed to get back on her feet. Pinning her forearms on either side of Chandler's rib cage, Leigh hauled him almost chest height.

One of the blades dislodged. Then another.

"I don't suppose you want me to try to put those back?" She dragged Chandler toward the door she'd come through. Ten feet. They were going to make it. She just had to keep going. Just had to take the next step. "Didn't think so."

A flashlight shone directly in her face.

The world went ultra-white, searing the backs of her eyes.

"You're going to want to step away from him now, Agent Brody," a familiar voice said.

She pressed her eyes closed, turning away while trying to keep both hands firmly around Chandler. She hadn't heard anyone else in the building. How had he known she was here? Had Livingstone sent him? "And you're going to want to get that thing out of my face. We've got to get out of here. Chandler's hurt, and the whole building is about to fall apart."

"I know." The light diverted away, leaving white spots in its wake. His outline solidified the closer he got. "That's one of the reasons I chose it. What better place to dispose of evidence in four murders than a building on the verge of collapse? Of course, you can't time these things. I've had to help it along a bit. But I was hoping this dump would've taken Mr. Reed down with it before you figured this all out."

Leigh stilled while her mind tumbled leaps and bounds over itself. His features started filling into the space where shadow hid his face. The nose that'd possibly been broken one too many times. The cleft in his chin where his razor didn't seem to reach well enough. Even the distinct line between his brows. Her heart shuttered as the answer she'd been searching for since coming home to Lebanon had stood right in front of her since day one. "You?"

Gabriel Boucher took a single step into the moonlight. Lowering his flashlight, the lieutenant raised his sidearm and took aim. At her. "Yeah, Brody. Me."

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