“No problem. I tried for a requisition to get somebody to take down that silly wallpaper and repaint the area, but since we’re only here temporarily, my request was denied. Sorry about that,” she said, glaring at the faded wallpaper covered by half-naked women.
Laurel had stopped noticing the walls. “Well, you tried. I’m going to run a couple of errands and then meet Walter at the base parking area of Snowblood Peak. There’s a chance we won’t return today. Your kids did a good job.”
“Thanks.” Kate looked at Laurel’s blouse. “You need a heavier jacket.”
“I have one in the SUV as well as a pair of my mom’s jeans.” The jeans were ’70’s style with wildflowers embroidered down both legs, so she hadn’t wanted to wear them to work. Also, she’d need to tuck the bottoms into her boots. Laurel smiled and went down the steps, then forced herself to walk into the offices of Fish and Wildlife. A young man with freckles and light blond hair sat behind the reception desk. “Hi. Could I see Captain Rivers for a moment?” she asked.
The man winced. “Um, let me check.” He lifted a nearby phone and pressed a button. “Captain? The FBI agent who moved in above the ice cream shop is here to see you.” He listened and then hung up. “Huck says you can go on back.”
Laurel hadn’t showed her badge, so rumor of her business in town had obviously spread. She steeled her shoulders and walked around the file cabinets, noting several curious gazes as she passed by the cubicles to the hallway and then down to Huck’s office. She didn’t much care if she ran into the sheriff or the deputy chief on her way.
Huck sat behind his desk with a stack of manila folders in front of him, while Aeneas snored on a plush dog bed in the corner. Huck looked up when she entered. “Did you have to piss off not only my boss but the local sheriff?”
Aeneas lifted an eye, stretched to his feet, and lumbered over to nudge her hand with his nose.
She scratched behind his ears. “They started it.”
Huck lowered his chin. “Laurel.”
The way he said her name held a low rumble of warning. One that heated her abdomen in a way that was anything but professional. She frowned. What was happening? Sure, he was attractive, but this was business. Was Abigail correct that his aura of sheer danger drew her? Or had Abigail just planted the idea in Laurel’s head?
“Laurel?” Huck asked. “You still with me?”
She jerked. “Yes. Just thinking through the case. Is there any way we could work together?”
Huck’s eyebrow rose. “After your stunt earlier? No.” While he didn’t seem angry, he did appear dismissive.
“Very well.” She straightened to her full height. “I’ll provide you with a copy of the profile once I type it up, just so you have a basis from which to work. Have a nice rest of your day.” With that, she turned and strode back through the office, feeling somehow bereft. She’d enjoyed working with him for a day.
Would he accept Abigail’s invitation for a date?
Laurel frowned. She didn’t care. She rolled her shoulders to banish the sudden itch between them.
* * *
Jagged ice encroached on the silent headstones in Genesis Valley Cemetery, the sharp points of icicles straining toward the frozen ground and the dead buried beneath. A slice of weakened sun attempted to pierce the bloated clouds but was quickly snuffed out. Laurel stepped out of her SUV, and the wind rattled the naked branches of the surrounding trees, pricking the exposed skin on her face.
She ducked her head and hustled toward the storage unit concealed beyond the shivering trees at the far corner of the graveyard. “Uncle Carl?” She knocked on the heavy wooden door.
It swung open. “What are you doing here?” Carl gestured her inside. Today he wore a blue flannel shirt, gray pants, and rubber snow boots.
She stepped inside the building that stored unmarked gravestones, shovels, and other burial equipment. “I called the main office and they said you were taking inventory out here.” The wind shook the walls, and she stepped closer to the ancient wood-burning stove that heated the building.
“Yes. It’s inventory time.” He reached for a metal clipboard sitting on a stool.
She cleared her throat and flipped through her phone for the picture of Abigail’s driver’s license that Walter had acquired and texted to her at her request. He was doing a good job, so far. “Do you recognize this woman?”
Carl leaned closer and his shirt slid to the side, revealing scratches at the base of his neck. “She’s pretty. Maybe I recognize her? I don’t know. Should I? Dunno from where, though.”
Laurel swallowed. The walls closed in, even as they sheltered her from the brutal wind. She shook off the illogical feeling of unease and concentrated on the moment. “This woman remembers seeing you hiking beneath Snowblood Creek. Have you ever used a walking stick?”
“No, but I guess I might’ve used my fishing rod tube as a crutch a few times after I rolled my ankle.” Carl pushed hair away from his face. “Why?”
Heat flushed down Laurel’s back and she moved away from the blazing stove. “She mentioned seeing you several times, and I thought you might be a witness in my case. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything suspicious while you were out fishing or hiking?”
“No.” He rubbed his graying whiskers. “I doubt I saw that pretty blond woman out by the river. I would’ve remembered. She looks like the weather lady on Channel 2. That’s where I remember her from.” He moved to the first stack of unmarked gravestones. “I’d like to get back to work before the next storm hits. This morning, I didn’t even get the chance to plow my drive before coming to town.” Uncle Carl lived on the family farmland a few miles from Laurel’s mom in an old cabin surrounded by trees.
“Of course. Uncle Carl? What happened to your neck?” Laurel asked.
