She hadn’t actually found them, but she didn’t argue. It was nice to have Carl speaking with the family. Sometimes he disappeared for months, and he’d held such habits as long as she could remember.
Carl rubbed a finger across the wide scar on his temple.
“Are your headaches worse?” Deidre asked, finishing her salad. “I have more of that medicinal tea for you. It relaxes the muscles and can help you sleep. Make sure you take one of the pouches before you go.”
Carl didn’t answer but instead finished his meal. “Thank you.” He stood and walked to the doorway.
“We have dessert, Carl,” Betty said, pushing more salad onto Blake’s plate.
“Don’t like sweets.” Carl stepped into his boots, his dark gaze meeting Laurel’s. “Thank you for coming home but be careful. Snowblood Peak is a dangerous place. Always has been.” He turned and opened the door, walking out into the billowing snow. The door shut quietly behind him.
Blake smiled at his sister. “He never changes, right?”
Deidre sipped her wine. “It was nice of him to show up tonight, though. I thought that he might just disappear again after the sheriff yanked him into the station.”
Laurel stared at the closed door. For her entire life, she’d just accepted her uncle as eccentric, and it wasn’t like she’d been home a lot to interact with him. “Was he so introverted before the snowmobile crash?”
“He was always a little peculiar,” Blake said, finally giving in and eating his salad. “But he got worse after his head injury. Even though he’s the oldest, it feels like Deidre and I have always taken care of him, in a way.”
Deidre dished more casserole onto Laurel’s plate. “He’s harmless, though.”
Laurel couldn’t tear her gaze from the door. With her uncle’s size, he was anything but harmless. She shook the thought off and returned to the family dinner. The nagging concern wouldn’t leave her, though. Maybe this local case was getting to her in a way other cases had not. Now she was seeing suspects in the unlikeliest of places.
Should she run a background check on her own uncle?
Chapter Eleven
The storm continued to batter the world as Laurel drove into the parking lot of her new office to begin her morning. Her heart instantly sank. Multiple news vehicles were stationed around the lot, and a group of people had gathered near her doorway. She smoothed her hair away from her face and stepped out of the Volkswagen, grabbing her laptop bag as she exited. Unfortunately, she’d had no choice but to borrow another outfit from her mother, this one a long pink skirt with a peasant blouse. At least her coat covered most of her clothing.
She pushed her way through reporters to the doorway, stopping short at seeing two men standing to the side, both with microphones held near their faces. One wore a Genesis Valley sheriff ’s uniform and the other a Washington State Fish and Wildlife uniform.
Oh, crap.
“It looks like the FBI has deigned to make an appearance,” the sheriff drawled, his eyes beady.
The reporters turned to her, and the nearest one, a woman in her early forties, shoved a microphone in Laurel’s face. “You’re with the FBI? What is your response to the sheriff ’s claims?”
Laurel fought the urge to run through the doorway. “Considering I haven’t met the sheriff during the three days the FBI has been working this case, I have no idea what his claims might be.” She leveled a look at the sheriff. “I’ve been up on the mountain, interviewing witnesses, and at the ME’s office, sheriff. Where have you been?”
The man appeared to be in his late thirties with a severely receding hair line, dark eyebrows, and a thick brown mustache. He was about five foot ten and built like a wrestler. “I’ve been doing my job. This is a local matter, and we’d appreciate it if the federal government let us do our jobs.”
Cameras rapidly snapped pictures.
The sheriff puffed out his chest. “Go back to the big city, Agent.”
The Fish and Wildlife officer just glared and didn’t say anything. Apparently he hadn’t received the memo about their working together.
“Who are you?” Laurel asked the older man.
The guy’s chin lowered. He had to be in his midsixties with a bald head, beady brown eyes, and a beer gut. “I’m Deputy Chief Mert Wright, and I agree with the sheriff.”
Well, then. Laurel forced a smile. “So much for interagency cooperation, gentlemen.” It looked like she might be on her own, but she had caught more serial killers than those two combined, so she wasn’t going to stop now. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.” Now she focused on the cameras catching her every movement. “There’s a killer out there, and the last thing we have time for is a pissing match over territory. When you boys grow up, give me a call.” With that, she opened her door and walked inside.
Once the door shut behind her, she smacked the heel of her palm against her head. That was not good. Not at all. “Kate?” she called out, climbing the stairs and reaching the reception area, then crossing through the doorway to the hall.
Kate emerged from one of the offices with her hands full of file folders. “Did you see the disaster outside?” Today she wore dark jeans and a sweater.
Laurel sighed. “I saw the group of people and just turned the situation into a disaster. I’m not good with PR or people.” She walked beyond the restrooms to the offices. The entire floor smelled like waffle cones and dust.
