Laurel sat on her folding chair and draped her coat over the back of it. She required furniture sooner rather than later. “Did your nightly meditation assist your memory?”
“Yes,” Abigail said. “I feel it would benefit your case if we met and talked it through. I’m actually in town for a meeting and can be at your office in about thirty minutes. Are you free?”
Curiosity mingled with warning inside Laurel. Encouraging Abigail might be a mistake, but the woman could have pertinent information. “That would be fine. I take it you learned the location of the office from the press conference?” Maybe she could get enough furniture in the next few minutes to make the conference room useful.
“Yes. In fact, I’ve spent some time at the ice cream shop beneath your offices. They offer delectable pastries and lattes. Shall I grab us something to drink?” Abigail asked.
“No, thank you,” Laurel said automatically. A latte sounded delicious, actually. “My assistant already brought in cappuccinos today. I’ll see you when you get here.” She clicked off the phone and walked down the hallway. “Kate? I’ll need one more chair in my office for a meeting I’m having in a short time.” She glanced at her watch. “For now, I’m running down to grab coffees. What would you all like?” She looked inside at the kids.
“Hello?” a male voice bellowed before a man strode through the doorway. He looked like an old-time detective or cop with his brown trench coat, thinning gray hair, and round belly. He had to be in his midfifties, and his hazel gaze ran over Laurel. “You must be the girl in charge. Nice press conference earlier.”
Kate sputtered. “Who are you?”
“I’m FBI Agent Walter Smudgeon from Portland. DC transferred me here to assist with the Snowblood Peak murders.” He looked around. “Unfortunately.”
Laurel took in the newcomer. “Call me girl again, and you’re fired.” Did she have the power to fire anybody? Maybe.
He blanched. “Sorry. I meant no offense.” His gaze was earnest.
“You’re forgiven,” Laurel said instantly. Whatever had gone wrong in Portland had no bearing here, as long as he did his job. Although she did need more background on the man.
Kate visibly relaxed. “Tell you what. I’ll run downstairs for coffees while you show Walter to whatever office you want him to have during this case.” She snapped her fingers at her girls. “You all get vanilla steamers with no caffeine. Laurel?”
“Caramel latte, two shots, almond milk,” Laurel said, studying her new agent. The guy was sweating after merely navigating the stairs.
Walter drew out his wallet and handed Kate forty dollars. “Coffee is on me.”
Nice. Good olive branch. Kate obviously thought so as well, because she accepted the cash without arguing. “What’s your poison?”
Walter hitched up his belt. “A quad-latte with whipped cream.”
Kate managed not to wince. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and clip-clopped across the worn wooden floor in high-heeled brown boots.
Laurel motioned for Walter to follow her to the closest office, which was down several feet on the other side of the hallway from the computer closet in the northeast corner, leaving an empty office between them. “You can have this space.” The room was good sized with windows looking at the snowy mountains outside. “We’re supposed to have furniture soon.” Hopefully. If she had to put in a call to DC to make it happen, she would later that afternoon.
Walter looked at the view. “Works for me.” He turned to face her. “Where are we on the Snowblood Peak case?”
“We’ll have a briefing this afternoon after I meet with a witness, and I’ll provide a profile,” Laurel said. She’d studied the case file after dinner the night before, and she was ready with the profile. Two more of the deceased women had been identified, and they’d all been young, living high-risk lifestyles. Seattle seemed to be the guy’s hunting ground.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Walter said.
Laurel looked around at the vacant space. “For now, you could create a case board in what’s going to be the main conference room, just down the hall to the right office. All you have to do is run to the store first and buy whiteboards as well as tape, magnets, and markers.”
“No problem,” Walter said, drawing off his trench coat to reveal a dingy, white dress shirt, stained light blue tie, and beige-colored dress pants that were stretched at the seams. He wore a brown leather shoulder holster that housed his weapon, and his badge had been secured to his belt. “I guess I’ll get to work.”
Chapter Twelve
Laurel tried to get comfortable on the folding chair as she sipped her latte and read through the case file one more time, itching to pick up her knitting.
Viv, the oldest teenager, knocked on her open door and walked inside with a dark blue file folder in one hand, her smoothie in the other, and her laptop tucked under her arm. “I borrowed file folders from the Fish and Wildlife lady. Oh. Nice chair,” she chortled.
Laurel looked at the bright pink chair across from her desk that Kate had borrowed from the ice creamery downstairs. The wooden legs of the chair had been painted a comforting yellow. “Thanks. I like to keep it professional looking in here.”
“Funny.” Viv seated herself, then shoved the file folder across Laurel’s desk. She wore jeans, a yellow sweater, and dangly blue earrings. “This was so much fun. Is it hard to get a real job with the FBI?”
“No. But you should keep your options open and study a lot of subjects before deciding,” Laurel said. “You’re smart and capable and can do anything.” How many times had her mother said those words to her through the years? Even when she was the youngest by far in class and her mom was working two jobs to pay rent wherever they were, Deidre built her up. Thank goodness her scholarships had paid for her tuition.
Viv blushed. “That’s so cool of you to say.” She leaned in. “I think I might want to chase serial killers. Why do you do it?”
