“Oh,” Abigail breathed, her expression softening. “In that case, would you mind terribly if I asked him out? He’s so handsome and breviloquent. That’s an irresistible combination for me—I don’t know why. But I’d never do anything to breach this mutual admiration and curiosity you and I have developed.”
What kind of game was the woman playing? “Feel free to reach out to the captain,” Laurel said. “When you do, make sure you let him know how his breviloquence intrigues you. Guys love that kind of thing.”
Abigail chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but I believe you’re as drawn to him as am I. What is it about dangerous men that appeals so to intelligent women?”
“You think Huck is dangerous?” Laurel asked.
Abigail’s cheek creased in a smile. “I think he’s deadly and so do you. It’s all over him. Have you asked yourself why that sense of impending danger is so attractive to you? Don’t you wonder? What is it?”
Laurel exhaled slowly. If she denied Huck’s attractiveness, she’d be lying and would have “blinked” again. “I don’t ponder silly questions. Why do you?”
Abigail rubbed her hands together. “Do you ever feel like all of the pieces have finally started to drop into place?”
“My pieces are already where they should be.” Laurel set the pen down on the paper and stood. “It was kind of you to come in to provide more information, Dr. Caine. The FBI appreciates it.”
Abigail also stood. In her boots, the woman was about five foot nine, so she was probably five six in her bare feet. “You’re very welcome.” Her chin rose.
Anticipation licked through Laurel.
“Before I forget, the man in the wilderness took pains to conceal his face. He did give me his first name though,” Abigail said. “The man called himself Carl.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming. “I hope that helps.”
Chapter Thirteen
Laurel couldn’t eat the delicious-smelling lunch Kate ordered from Teranzoina’s pizzeria. Carl? Was Abigail telling the truth or had her background research on Laurel led to Uncle Carl? There had been no mention of a scar, but if Carl had concealed his face, Abigail might not have seen it. “I don’t trust a word out of that woman’s mouth,” Laurel muttered, although she’d have to hunt down Uncle Carl later that day and ask him some uncomfortable questions.
She stalked into the conference room to find that Walter had neatly set up a board with pictures of the identified deceased women, a place for suspects—which pretty much was limited to Carl right now—and unknowns. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” Walter leaned against the wall with pizza sauce on the corner of his mouth. Snow covered the skylight above him. “I turned in the receipts for the supplies to Kate.”
Laurel moved to the other board to memorize an aerial map of Snowblood Peak, the river, and the surrounding land. “This is fantastic.” She leaned in to study the topography. “The only way up the peak is this one trail.” She cocked her head, murmuring to herself. “He would’ve wanted to visit the site afterward. If that wasn’t possible, where would he go?”
Walter stepped up to her side, smelling of pepperoni. “What do you mean?”
She looked at the area. “This killer is organized and ritualistic, and most likely returned to the place where he disposed of the bodies. If he couldn’t get there because of our investigation, is there a place he could visit to view the peak?” It was doubtful, because the cliff fell off steeply to a valley that had no ingress or egress. In the spring, when Fish and Wildlife searched again, they’d have to use helicopters to go in.
Walter pointed to an area about a mile from the parking lot. “That’s the only spot. There’s a nice picnic area, and if you go to the other side of the river, you can see the peak in the distance. But you can’t see the cliff or the valley, so he wouldn’t be able to see the bodies.”
“Nobody could see the bodies,” Laurel murmured. She looked outside, where the snow had finally stopped falling. “How long a break do we have with the weather? I need to see that picnic area.”
Walter drew out his phone and scrolled through an app. “It’s supposed to start snowing again tonight. For at least the next week.” He cleared his throat. “Um, I wanted to thank you for giving me a chance here.”
It was as good an opening as she would find. “What happened in Portland?” Not that she had evidence that anything specific had happened.
He sighed. “I got divorced a year ago. She left me. High and dry and in pain.” His gaze didn’t meet Laurel’s. “I took to the bottle, and it got ugly. I didn’t do my job.” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “I was drunk most of the time and my colleagues covered for me, but I still screwed up. There wasn’t any specific incident, and I’m working hard to be better.”
It was all anybody could ask of him. “Works for me.” She looked out the window. “Are you up to hiking a mile in the snow?” The guy was part of her unit now, and she was too smart to head into the wilderness alone.
“Sure.” Walter licked the sauce off his lips. “I have heavy snow gear in my rig. What about you? Those boots won’t do it.”
“They’re surprisingly warm, and I have a heavier coat and gloves in my SUV,” she said. “I need to run an errand now. How about I meet you in the parking area, say, around two this afternoon?”
Walter nodded. “No problem. Since you and I are the only investigators on the team, do you want to give me the profile of the killer while we hike?”
“Yes.” Since it appeared the state and local authorities weren’t going to work with her, Walter was the only person to share information with right now. Hopefully she could get the others to change their stance, because they’d have a better chance of finding this guy if they worked together. “I’ll meet you at the area. Thanks, Walter.” She grabbed her laptop bag and coat, then walked through the office to the reception area, where Kate sat on a bar stool behind the glass counter. “Any chance we have furniture coming?”
“I’m working on it.” Kate swiveled on the bar stool. “I went through the GSA and so far haven’t had any luck. But I’ll keep trying.”
“Thank you.”
