Chapter 30

Tuesday, March 16

10:30 p.m.

"I'm not going to ask you again." Boucher kept that dark gaze steady on her, so unlike the times they'd interacted during their partnership. "Step away from him."

"You know I can't do that." Her arms burned from keeping Chandler Reed upright, but the federal investigator was still alive. The moment Leigh set him down, it was all over. She gauged the distance between her and the door. By the time she managed to get Chandler through, Boucher could put several rounds into her back. Digging her fingers into the investigator's torso, she shifted into the pinpricks working up her leg to stay in the moment, to figure out how the hell they were going to survive this. "That day in the park, you told me Livingstone had turned you down for a date, but that wasn't it, was it? She was starting to suspect who you really were."

"It wasn't supposed to end like this." The lieutenant rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. "I gave you all the chance to walk away, but no one would take it."

The beams running across the ceiling overhead cracked.

"You killed them." The building was crumbling around them, the water was getting higher at the far end of the room. She was out of time and options. "All of them. Gresham Schmidt, Michelle Cross, Dr. Jennings. Even Chris Ellingson, right? They were looking into my brother's case. To find the truth."

"The truth?" A low scoff escaped Boucher's composure, and she got a mere glimpse of the man she'd feared would lose it these past few days. "You want to know the truth? Chris Ellingson deserved far worse than what I gave him. You'd think after years of torturing kids, the son of a bitch would be able to handle a taste of his own medicine. But when he took my son, the gloves had to come off. He crossed the line, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him take the only thing I care about in this world."

"You brought Carter home the night you killed Ellingson," she said. "That's why there was no sign of him in that house or the tunnel beneath the property."

Leigh tried to take a step toward the door, but she was losing her grip on Chandler. "So all this—using toy soldiers with my name scratched on them, killing those victims in the same manner my brother and Derek Garrison were killed—it was all to get to Ellingson?" she asked. "You knew the manner of death would get my attention, that I would come here and put him at the top of the suspect list."

"You certainly didn't disappoint, Brody." That half smile she'd taken at face value hitched one side of his mouth higher. She'd studied evil all of her adult life. She should've recognized a mind game when she saw one. "You might've left Lebanon behind, but someone who tries to disprove an entire police department at seventeen wouldn't have given up so easily."

Water crept higher up the slope as the corner of the building sank deeper.

Leigh took a step toward the door. "Chris Ellingson abducted you."

"I was ten," he said. "I got into a fight at school. Broke the other kid's arm in four places. Principal said I could either see the school psychologist or be expelled. My parents chose to send me to the psychologist. Mr. Ellingson told them I had anger management issues, but that he could help. Gave me one of these the first day." Boucher pulled a dark figure from his pocket. A toy soldier. Her heart squeezed hard in her chest. "Told me anytime I was feeling angry to direct it onto this. You'd be surprised how well his advice worked. Right before one night he came into my house through a crawl space in my mom's sewing room, put a pillow over my nose and mouth until I stopped breathing, and walked me out of there without even waking my parents."

Was that how Ellingson had gotten all his victims out of their homes? Muffling their cries, ensuring there were no chemicals or drugs to be traced. Fibers would've been swallowed and digested if the boys were kept alive long enough. Three days. Ellingson had given Derek Garrison and his other victims three days before their bodies turned up. Long enough for the evidence to disappear. Though that didn't explain why Ellingson had kept Michael Agutter alive for three months.

Leigh had no willpower against the visual that created, her mind automatically putting Troy's face front and center. Acid collected at the back of her throat the longer the image held on. She fought against the dead weight in her arms, trying to keep Chandler upright with everything she had, but her arms were on the brink of giving up. "The patterns and behaviors I predicted at the start of the case… I'd attributed them to Officer Pierce. But you were right there with us from the beginning."

"Donavon Pierce doesn't have the balls to do what I've done, but you were right. About all of it. To be honest, I was getting a little nervous standing in the same room with you those first few days. Especially when I told you that list of students the school board sent over didn't register any hits. The way you looked at me, I was convinced you knew I'd taken my name off the list, and you knew exactly who I was." The muscles in Boucher's jaw flexed under pressure. "But I've got to hand it to my mother. She kept our secrets from this town with everything she had. My disappearance, too. After what'd happened to your family, she didn't want that for us. That summer I told you about not being able to leave my house. I'd gotten free. I ran home, told her what happened. She locked me up tight, homeschooled me after that. Never let me out of her sight. Never let me see my friends or go out. Told me to forget about it. But I couldn't."

"You escaped. You survived when two other boys hadn't." A cramp went through her hand, and she almost lost her hold on Chandler. "You could've stopped Ellingson by giving your statement to the police. Your mother could've done something instead of pretending it'd never happened."

"What can I say, Brody? She protected me. Just as your daddy protected you the night you found Troy's body under the house." His voice seemed to shake the very rafters above.

Leigh's nerves hiked into overdrive.

"If you can believe it, my being here is all thanks to you." Boucher took a step closer, moonlight angling across strong cheekbones. "You were there that night. The night I escaped. Remember? You came through the window well to break in. Looking for Troy, right?"

Leigh didn't understand. "That's not… I searched that room. I didn't see you."

"But I saw you." His voice graveled. "You see, Ellingson liked to keep his victims out of sight at all times, just in case someone walked by and saw something they weren't supposed to, or the police caught on. Or determined big sisters broke in. He'd take a small portion of any given room and build it out so there was just enough space. My cell was under the basement stairs made to look like an air return. I was going to call out to you from behind the grate, but Ellingson was already coming down the stairs. You really shouldn't have made so much noise, but as I said, without you, I wouldn't be here. You breaking in gave me the time to figure out how to get out without Ellingson in the house. Thank you for that."

The crime scene unit was in the process of tearing that house down to the studs. Soon, all of Ellingson's hiding spots would be found. She just wished she would've noticed them then. Wished she could've done something to stop this before it'd even started. But wishing didn't change anything. "And what about all those victims? Michelle Cross, Dr. Jennings, and Gresham Schmidt. Did they deserve to suffer as you had?"

The river raged harder, determined to do nothing but bring down the building. Water brushed against her boot, closing in. Too fast.

"He wasn't supposed to come back. Ellingson was supposed to stay gone. But when he moved back to Lebanon, I knew it was only a matter of time before another boy went missing. Better than anyone else. Something had to be done. I had to protect my son. So I was going to make Ellingson pay for his sins. I was going to be the one who exposed him for the sick monster he was." A growl escaped Boucher's control, turning him into something feral and foreign. "They should've left it alone, but Michelle was so eager. Harassing the chief wasn't panning out as she'd hoped, but she still had a deadline to turn in her manuscript to the publisher. You wanted to know why Michelle Cross believed Ellingson killed those two boys all those years ago? Why she cost him his job with the school district and got his license revoked? Because she saw him with me. Saw him pulling something heavy from his car the night he took me out her bedroom window, only she couldn't prove it was a kid. She never saw my face, couldn't even tell that he had a body wrapped up in all those blankets, but with all the fear going around, she went to the police. But no one believed her. Ellingson was above reproach according to the people of this town."

Boucher's arm dipped slightly. Even veteran officers couldn't fight muscle fatigue brought on by holding a three-pound weapon steady. He was getting tired. And it would give her an opportunity if the mill didn't collapse in on them first. "Once I realized she'd do just about anything to get inside information on the case, even going as far as to acquire Derek Garrison's and your brother's DNA, it was easy to get to her. All I had to do was offer a copy of the case file. She never saw me coming."

"And the others?" Leigh sidestepped river water sliding under her feet, but Chandler Reed's weight only added to the panic pressurizing in her chest. And it was then she understood. Boucher was keeping her here. Drawing this out, feeding her information, at least enough to give the building time to fail. He'd said it himself. That was why he'd chosen this location, to get rid of the evidence. To get rid of anyone who got in his way.

"Gresham Schmidt never should've gotten involved. He didn't have jurisdiction, but he just wouldn't let it go. Couldn't stand the thought of losing that limelight. He gets it into his head that a twenty-year-old case is bigger than the murder of two boys. So he starts asking more questions." Boucher widened his stance, trying to make up for the fatigue setting into his arm. "He reached out to the department. Thought I'd be interested in working together on a theory he had: that police had the wrong man in prison. Said he'd gotten an anonymous tip. That the case file just showed up in his mailbox one day. I don't know how, but I'm sure you can put the rest together for yourself. As for Dr. Jennings, well, I'm sorry about that. I liked her, but when she called to tell me she'd found black mold on Michelle Cross's and Gresham Schmidt's bodies, I couldn't have her bringing the unit here. Not until I was ready."

Chandler Reed's breathing rasped, too shallow, as Leigh held on to him.

"You coward." The emotional toll of realizing she'd been in a position to help him that night in Ellingson's basement deteriorated. Heat that had nothing to do with panic as the water lapped against her heels intensified. "You knew what kind of monster Chris Ellingson was—you were a witness—and you never said anything. You could've stopped him. You could've given a statement and had the police take another look. You could've saved an innocent man from rotting in prison, but you chose to do nothing. Do you think you're a hero? Do you think what you've done has actually saved lives? Twenty years and you did nothing. How many victims were never found because of you? How many other kids never got the chance to escape?"

"The only kid I give a damn about is my son!" The skin around the lieutenant's face tightened until it gave a hint at the skeletal bones underneath. His voice ricocheted off the remaining walls and brought down a chunk of bricks from the corner. Water rushed to fill the void left behind and climbed higher up the slope toward them. "I wasn't going to give that bastard the chance to come after me again, to come after Carter. I know who I am, Brody. I'm the one who stayed. I'm the one who was here. Because unlike you, I was willing to do whatever it took to make sure Ellingson was punished for what he did. Not with evidence that didn't exist. Not by filing requests or sneaking around his house in the middle of the night hoping to find evidence to hang him. And you know what? I'd do it again."

"But he did, Boucher." The Lego figure with the black shirt and the crest etched into his chest, the one Chris Ellingson had given her after the house fire, seemed heavier right then from inside her pocket. He'd known all along who'd dared step into his arena, and he'd punished Boucher for it in the worst way possible. He'd gone after the one thing the lieutenant loved the most. "He found out who you were and took your son because you challenged him. Carter was drawn into the middle of your own private war. You brought your own nightmare alive."

"Don't give me that bullshit." Boucher shook his head. "This wasn't just my war. That scum never should've come back here. I did what I had to to save my family. I saved this town. I stopped Ellingson from hurting anyone else. You, of all people, should be thanking me."

"And what about Carter?" Frigid water reached her ankles and filled her boots. She was losing her grip on Chandler. Leigh had to make a choice. Risk being shot by the man she believed had been her partner with the investigator in tow or drown in the rapids sucking the building into the depths. Neither option sat well. "Should he be thanking you?"

"My son is stronger than you think, and when he's old enough to understand what I did, he'll know it was because I love him." Boucher steadied his gun hand.

"You went after Carter right after you left his room." Everything fit. His resignation from the unit and Lebanon PD, the fact he hadn't been hounding her or anyone else in the BAU for information. He hadn't been comforting his ex-wife as she'd assumed. He'd been on the hunt. "You knew exactly where he was and who had taken him."

"You're damn right I did." He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip as though he didn't have anywhere else in the world he'd rather be. "You see, I nailed that crawl space in Carter's closet closed. Everything I've done, everything that I am, has been to make sure my son never had to go through what I did, but Ellingson crossed the line. The second I saw that toy soldier on my son's bed, I knew. I knew that bastard had come into my home, probably more than once. He'd put a pillow over Carter's face, just as he'd done to me, and waited until my son couldn't breathe anymore before slipping out the door."

Her stomach hollowed. "So you killed him."

"Would you believe me if I told you Ellingson was sitting there on his front porch, waiting for me?" Boucher's gaze softened, almost unfocused apart from the fact men like him didn't let themselves lose their concentration. Too much of a risk. "I had the knife in my hand." He tugged a blade—identical to the ones protruding from Chandler Reed's body—from his low back. "I looked right at him, and he smiled at me. He said, ‘I always knew you'd come back.'" His scoff cut through the crushing white noise of raging water. "I lost count of how many times I stabbed him after the first one. It was easy."

Chandler Reed's rib cage had stopped expanding.

It was now or never.

"So this is your plan, Boucher? Keep killing anyone who comes close to the truth? Medical examiners, detectives, your own officers. Me? When will it end?" Leigh hauled the investigator up against her chest to keep from losing him to the river. "What's going to happen to your son? What is Livingstone supposed to tell him if you don't come home?"

"He's safe. That's all that matters, but I'll be damned if I let anyone in this town treat him the way they treated you." Water swept up his pant legs. "I'm sorry, Brody. I brought you back to Lebanon so you would go after Ellingson. You weren't supposed to stay. You shouldn't have come here tonight."

He fit his finger over the trigger.

Chandler Reed fell forward out of Leigh's arms. The investigator's scream punctured through the room as Chandler lunged at Boucher. Blades fell from his legs and arms into river water. Hell, he was alive. Against all odds. He was alive.

Boucher's aim fixated on the immediate threat.

"No!" Leigh rushed forward, her feet heavy with a thousand tons of water trying to hold her back. She reached out and tackled the investigator. Ice infused her front and stole the air from her lungs.

Just as a gunshot exploded.

A low ringing filled Leigh's ears. Then came the pain. The water around her seemed to still. She dropped to all fours as blood gushed from her shoulder, but she didn't have the mind to apply pressure.

Boucher wrenched out of Chandler Reed's hold and pulled the trigger a second time.

Just as Leigh was swallowed by the river.