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)
“Understood.” Laurel watched the flames lick over the logs with restless precision. Protocol. The word made sense to her. Structure. Organization. A clean process meant to wring out the truth. She would go through the steps, give her statements, answer their questions, and hope the right details fell into place. “Have you looked into Dr. Sandoval or his family?”
“Yes. He didn’t have family. No close relatives, anyway. So . . . there was no one to notify or investigate.”
Well, that was just sad. The clean detachment in Agent Norrs’s voice only sharpened the reality. Dr. Sandoval had died without anyone to mourn him. Without anyone but the government’s official notice to mark his passing.
Sometimes Laurel wondered if, without Deidre’s influence, soft and kind to a fault, she would’ve been more like that. Alone. No attachments. No one to consider her absence a true loss.
Huck’s arm slid over her shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against her hair in a touch so casual she almost dismissed it. But there was something deliberate in the way he played with her hair, like he understood the weight of her thoughts even when she hadn’t voiced them. She would never understand how he did that.
“All right.” Agent Norrs’s voice cut through her musings. “If anything else comes to mind, please let me know. We’re in agreement, right? That the shooter on the courthouse steps was aiming for you and hit Abigail. Then that same sniper accidentally hit Dr. Sandoval instead of you.”
“That makes the most sense,” Laurel said, a headache thrumming behind her eyes. Was anybody close to her a target at all times now? “We have Nester creating a computer scenario of Abigail’s shooting that we’ll look at tomorrow. Considering there was a sniper in my vicinity twice and somebody else was shot, I think that’s a fairly easy conclusion to reach. But we’ll see what Nester discovers.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I’ll head your way first thing in the morning and interview you as well.”
“Of course,” Laurel replied.
The line went quiet for a beat, just the low murmur of someone shuffling papers or maybe shifting positions. Then another voice cut in, bright and familiar. “Laurel, I’m so sorry to hear you almost got shot. Again.” Abigail’s voice, smooth and overly cheerful, carried a note of something too close to amusement for Laurel’s comfort.
“Thank you, Abigail,” Laurel said. “If the shooter on the courthouse steps was aiming for me and not you, I’m sorry that you took a bullet for me.”
“Oh, I’d always take a bullet for you, dear sister.” Abigail’s response was gleeful, the kind of high-pitched delight Laurel had never really learned to decipher. “Don’t worry about it.”
Laurel shook her head, feeling the muscles in her neck tighten. “Just in case, you need to stay safe. This appears to be aimed at me, but we don’t know that for sure. You were shot, so I would keep the Genesis Valley protection detail as long as you can.”
“Oh, they’ve already waved off,” Abigail replied breezily. “The sheriff decided you were the target and I didn’t need protection. But don’t worry, my sweet Wayne Norrs is keeping me safe.”
“I’m sure he is,” Laurel replied. “I’m glad to hear that. Have a good night, Abigail.” She clicked off, placing her phone on the table. Fred shifted in her lap, his whiskers twitching as he adjusted to a more comfortable position.
“This is an odd one, Laurel Snow.” Huck’s voice was low and measured, his expression thoughtful. “I know you have no idea who would want you dead.”
She shook her head again, her gaze on the fire but her focus inward. “Statistically, it’s somebody connected to one of the cases I’ve already worked. That’s the most probable explanation.” Her fingers kept a steady rhythm rubbing along Fred’s back, the familiar texture of fur under her fingertips an unconscious comfort. “But I can’t pinpoint anyone. Nothing and nobody’s coming to mind. It’s frustrating.”
Huck leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Her phone buzzed again. Laurel sighed and reached for it. The number on the screen was familiar. “Agent Snow.”
“Hi, Agent Snow. It’s Dr. Ortega at the county coroner’s office.”
“Hi, Dr. Ortega.” Laurel adjusted her grip on the phone. “It’s good to hear from you. You’re working late.”
“I’m always working late,” Dr. Ortega replied, his voice very slightly slurred, indicating exhaustion. “But I wanted to call you because . . . well, this is an odd one.”
Laurel stilled. “What is odd?”
“I just finished the autopsy on Dr. Liu. She didn’t die from the car crash.”
Laurel frowned, her fingers pausing midstroke along Fred’s back. “What was the cause of death?”
“The cause of death was from blunt force trauma due to the car crash,” Ortega clarified, his words slow and deliberate. “But I believe she was in some sort of manic episode at the same time.”