What Harms You

Table of Contents Also by Title Page Copyright Page Epigraph Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Notes and Acknowledgments ABOUT THE AUTHOR Books by Lisa Black Red Flags Every Kind of Wicked Let Justice Descend Suffer the Children Perish Unpunished That Darkness Close to the Bone The Price of Innocence Blunt Impact Defensive Wounds Trail of Blood Evidence of Murder Takeover ABOUT THE AUTHOR As a forensic scientist at the Cuyahoga County Coroner’s Office, New York Times bestselling author Lisa Black analyzed gunshot residue on hands and clothing, hairs, fibers, paint, glass, DNA, and blood, as well as other forms of trace evidence. Now she is a Certified Crime Scene Analyst and Certified Latent Print Examiner for the Cape Coral Police Department in Florida. Lisa is a member of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, the International Association for Identification, and the International Association of Bloodstain Pattern Analysts. She has testified in court as an expert witness more than sixty-five times. She is the author of Red Flags, the first book in the Locard Institute series, and of the highly acclaimed Gardiner and Renner series, for which she was nominated for the Sue Grafton Memorial Award. Her books have been translated into six languages. She lives near Fort Myers, Florida. Visit her on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or at www.lisa-black.com. Notes and Acknowledgments As I typically do, I scoured a variety of resources to flesh out this story, including articles such as “The Messy Consequences of the Golden State Killer Case” in The Atlantic by Sarah Zhang; podcasts such as Algorithm, Foreign Affairs, FBI Retired Case File Review, Demystifying Saudi Arabia, and Majd’s Diary: Two Years in the Life of a Saudi Girl; and books such as Behind the Kingdom’s Veil by Susanne Koelbl and MBS: The Rise to Power of Mohammed bin Salman by Ben Hubbard. Also, it should be noted: I have no idea if either of the Swiss comedic ice-skating duo Frick and Frack had any descendants, and certainly not one named Craig Bennett. There is no Marion, Oklahoma, or a serial killer named Bruce Pension, which I know of. I am also unfamiliar with the sheriff’s department in Ballwin, Missouri. The American Academy of Forensic Sciences meeting is usually in February, not October. I would like to thank my fabulous agent, Vicky Bijur, and all the staff at the Vicky Bijur Literary Agency, as well as my wonderful editor, Michaela Hamilton, and the marvelous crew at Kensington Publishing. Chapter 1 Wednesday Ellie Carr waved her brand-new keycard at the mounted sensor a second time. Still, nothing. The updated metal door remained flush in its frame and didn’t give so much as a click to indicate an attempt to open for her. As far as the door was concerned, she did not exist. She tried not to take this personally. The door was only doing its job. But if it didn’t open, she would be late for the very first day of her job, hardly the impression she wanted to make on those in the antique stone building now looming, impenetrable, before her. The prestigious Locard Institute would allow her to research new techniques, instruct groups of peers, and investigate unique crimes for private clients. She hadn’t been this out-of-her-mind jazzed since her first day at the bureau. With that realization came a twinge of nostalgia. The FBI might have had her tracking mob payoffs instead of developing latent prints, but at least their keycards worked. The Hoover Building had never locked her out on a concrete stoop as she held a cardboard box of pens and notepads and books and the course syllabus and silly personal tchotchkes to make her new place feel as if she belonged there. It never left her surrounded by oak trees that delighted in holding on to the morning’s light rain until they could spill their leaves on unsuspecting passersby— “Excuse me.” A man materialized next to her and waved his arm. The door promptly unlocked with a mocking series of clicks. Twisting the latch, he pulled it open, but then held the chunk of steel so that she could duck under his arm if she wished. She wished. She’d ride him piggyback if it were necessary to breach that entrance. She ducked, eye level with the winged logo on his blue jacket and noted that he had a visitor ID. Fabulous. The course attendees’ cards worked, but not the new crime scene instructor’s . . . She thanked him and looked around to get her bearings, having only been to the Locard a few times. Two floors plus basement, long hallways in a horseshoe shape around a central courtyard, classrooms and student labs in the far wing, staff offices down the corridor to her right. Second floor, research labs, meeting rooms, more offices. Gym, locker rooms, and cafeteria on the basement level. The floors were gleaming terrazzo that bounced and amplified every sound. Her rescuer trotted off to his classroom and two other occupants milled about, none she recognized. Rachael, who had offered her the job, would be somewhere in the building, teaching the Crime Scene Documentation course. Ellie would take over Collecting Evidential DNA at crime scenes. Number 11, her assigned office, turned out to be the last in the hallway on the courtyard side, a nice-size room with wide windows, plenty of filing cabinets, and a large wooden desk clearly visible through a door that had three panes of glass in the upper half. The door was, of course, locked. The same kind