Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yes.” His voice now lowered and softened. “I asked Abigail to marry me, and she said yes.”
Laurel paused with the coffee in her hand. Abigail was taking this one further than she would’ve guessed. “Wow.” The woman moved quickly, but this was outright sprinting. “Agent Norrs, I’ve given you all the warnings I can. Let’s just keep our relationship professional and worry about what happens to Abigail later.”
“I worry about what’s going to happen to Abigail every second.” His words came fast. “She needs you in her corner, and it’s the right place for you to be. That man was evil. Don’t you agree?”
Laurel let the warmth from the drink seep into her palm. “I do think he was evil. But one doesn’t preclude the other. Abigail could be just as evil. Open your eyes.”
“I will, if you will,” Agent Norrs fired back.
“Of course. It was nice speaking with you.” Laurel ended the call.
Abigail was planning to marry Agent Norrs? The man was too stubborn to see anything beyond what Abigail wanted him to see. His loyalty was commendable but also blinding.
But she’d made a promise to help him, so she’d do her job. Laurel reached for the phone again and dialed the main line for Oakridge Solutions. The receptionist answered on the second ring.
“Hello, this is FBI Special Agent Laurel Snow. I’d like to meet with Dr. Sandoval,” Laurel said, her mouth watering for that latte.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the receptionist replied. “Dr. Sandoval is unavailable right now, but I can make you an appointment for a bit later today.”
Laurel placed her coffee on the desk. “All right. I’ll be there in less than an hour.” She tossed the phone down and took a sip of her latte, enjoying the sugar.
Walter walked down the hallway and stopped just outside her door, his posture stiff, his eyes dark-rimmed with exhaustion. His gait still carried a slight limp from the accident.
“Hi, Walter,” Laurel said, studying him. “How would you like to take a drive with me?”
His eyes snapped up. “Of course. What’s the situation?”
“Probably nothing, but it beats just sitting around here.”
Walter nodded. “I’m with you.”
“Maybe we can grab lunch afterward,” Laurel said, already reaching for her jacket. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 14
Huck tossed a biscuit across the office, the arc lazy and unhurried, landing with a soft clatter near the plush, overpadded dog bed Ena had supplied. Another one. Seemed like every few weeks, a fresh monstrosity of fluff and orthopedic foam appeared, courtesy of her insistence that Aeneas deserved comfort, too. Huck was convinced the woman had stock in a dog bed company.
Aeneas lounged on the latest addition to his growing collection, a broad rectangle of memory foam covered in something Ena called durable fabric. It was already fraying at the corners, courtesy of Aeneas’s industrious teeth. Chew, tear, destroy, and the game continued with a fresh bed. Huck half smiled.
The dog was striking. A Karelian Bear Dog with a coat of pure black and white, the contrast sharp and clean. His chest was broad, head narrow and intelligent, with pointed ears that twitched at the slightest noise. His dark eyes glinted with an almost human awareness. All muscle and instinct, he was built to charge straight at a bear instead of away from it.
Aeneas had the nerve for it, too. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Pure adrenaline and drive.
“It’ll be bear time soon, buddy,” Huck promised.
Aeneas’s core function was to scare bears off before they even thought about wandering into town. Sure, he was one of the few breeds in the world that didn’t go jelly-legged at the sight of a grizzly, but he was just as damn effective at search and rescue. Huck had relied on him more times than he could count. Between tracking down lost hikers and keeping wildlife at bay, the dog had earned his keep ten times over.
Huck’s phone rang, the shrill tone jolting against the quiet. He snagged it off the desk. “Rivers.”
“Hey, it’s Agent Norrs.” The man on the other end sounded as ragged as Huck felt. “Is this a good time?”
“Sure.” Huck settled deeper into his chair, eyes flicking back to Aeneas, who had curled himself into a tight coil of muscle and fur on the torn-up bed. “What do you have on the attack against Laurel and Walter?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot,” Norrs admitted, his voice slipping into a flat tone of frustration. “We’re combing through old case files of Laurel’s as well as Walter’s. Trying to see if anyone’s recently out of prison or if any past cases have flared up. We’re also checking more recent cases, seeing if there’s any connection.”
Huck’s gaze drifted to the window, the bleak stretch of gray sky outside offering nothing but another dismal reminder that the world wasn’t in a mood to make things easy. “And the black truck?”