She turned toward him. “I like to jog on the trails. Running along uneven terrain is good for the cardiovascular as well as muscular systems, Captain.” Her voice lowered, becoming throaty. Sexy. Was she flirting with Huck?
Laurel tilted her head. “There are many good running trails right here around the college campus. Why don’t you use those?”
“Who says I don’t?” Dr. Caine continued her appraisal of Huck as she spoke. “I like to keep in good shape, and I look for different trails because I get bored easily, as I’m sure you do, too, Agent Snow.” Her focus returned to Laurel. “Laurel Snow. It’s an interesting moniker, no? Whimsical and cold at the same time. I wonder. What’s your middle name?”
Laurel smiled. “Dr. Caine—”
“Abigail. Please.” Abigail reached for a gold-plated pen. “While jogging that area, I did see one gentleman more than once. He actually said hi to me one time, and we walked together for a while, but it was chilly and a scarf covered most of his face. What was his name? Darn it, he told it to me. I’ll remember. I promise.”
“Was he in a UTV?” Huck asked.
Abigail twirled the pen in her fingers. “No. He was walking the trail up Snowblood Creek. I remember him because he moved fast but wasn’t jogging. It was odd.”
“Could you describe him?” Laurel asked.
Abigail scrunched her face. “I don’t know. He was tall, I think. I didn’t give him much thought, but I will now, if it helps. I meditate every evening, and I’ll try to focus on remembering him. Right now, he’s just a blur, you know?”
Not really, but not everyone had Laurel’s memory skills; even a very intelligent person might not. “We’d appreciate any help you could provide.” She surreptitiously studied the office. The glass desk was feminine and the furnishings modern with chrome filing cabinets along one wall. The opposite wall held a wide window flanked by several diplomas. An oil painting behind the professor perfectly captured the local Calico Mountains with dark thunder clouds above. The scene evoked a feeling of awe and possible doom. “What a lovely painting.”
“Thank you,” Abigail said. “My mother painted a series depicting the mountains around Genesis Valley.”
“She is very talented,” Laurel murmured. “Do you paint?” There was something about the professor that intrigued her. Was it because they were both prodigies?
Abigail shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve found that those who paint camouflage too many secrets within the strokes. How about you, Special Agent Snow? Where do you bury your secrets?”
Chapter Nine
Huck kept an eye on the storm outside, which threatened to start up again, even as his instincts thrummed alive beneath his skin. The professor was an interesting woman, and she knew it. Definite ego there, but with her intelligence and beauty, she’d probably earned it.
“I don’t much care for secrets and usually miss subtext,” Laurel said, tearing her gaze from the painting.
Huck thought it was stunning with those dark purple streaks that suggested a wild storm. “Besides the odd, tall man you saw, can you think of anybody else you’ve noticed around Snowblood Peak in the last couple of months?” he asked. What kind of genius professor used words like odd and tall? Shouldn’t she have a better recollection? Or maybe she was just brilliant with math and science and not people. He could understand that. Half the time he’d rather be in the woods than around other people. Make that most of the time.
Sometimes he wished his job dealt only with animals. Unfortunately, people usually ended up being the worst kind of beasts.
The professor smiled at him. She looked professional and feminine in a light pink suit with a shimmery white blouse beneath the jacket. “There have been many ATV riders out there getting in their last muddy rides before snow and ice block the trails. Now will you tell me what’s going on? It might help me to remember if I understood the situation correctly.”
Laurel nodded. “We’ve found a series of bodies up on the peak. Well, on the cliffs below the peak to be exact. The last victim appears to have been dumped a couple of weeks ago, Dr. Caine.”
Dr. Caine’s blue eyes widened. “Bodies?”
“Young blondes,” Laurel added.
Abigail set down her pen. “That’s horrible. Truly terrible.”
“Agreed,” Laurel said quietly. “That’s why we could use any assistance you might provide.”
“Please, call me Abigail. I insist.” Abigail tilted her head to the side. “Is that what you do, Laurel? Chase serial killers all over the country?”
Huck glanced at the agent next to him. She hadn’t invited the professor to use her first name, now had she? He had the oddest sense that he was watching a chess match between two experts. This was weird.
Laurel appeared relaxed in the light beige, leather guest chair. “That’s exactly what I do.”
“Isn’t that interesting?” Abigail touched her lip with her tongue. “A child prodigy, one with obvious rare intelligence, but instead of attempting to solve the mysteries of the universe, you delve deep into the criminal mind. You play with evil.”
“I don’t play at all,” Laurel said smoothly. “One might question your interest in philosophy as well, but we don’t have time for theoretical pursuits right now.”
Huck frowned at the interchange. Was there some woman thing going on that he couldn’t grasp?
