He paused in the midst of counting the markers and touched his clavicle. “I was trimming the trees on the south side of the cemetery and got scratched. It’s normal, and I put antiseptic on it, so don’t tell your mom. She worries.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a couple of candies. “Oh. These are good.” He tossed one toward Laurel.
She caught it and glanced down at the wrapped purple drop. “Grape?”
“Huckleberry,” Carl said, unwrapping his and popping it in his mouth. “The Genesis Valley Church makes and sells them locally, with half of the proceeds going to the elementary school. Things actually taste like real huckleberries, not just purple sugar.”
Laurel tucked the candy in her purse. “Thank you. Do you have anything else that might help me in my investigation?”
He shook his head, his gaze not meeting hers. But he rarely made eye contact, not even on Christmas. “No. Have you been listening to the sheriff? Am I a suspect?”
She stepped back, her chest aching. “Why would you be a suspect?”
He did meet her gaze finally, and his eyes were so similar to her mother’s that her stomach cramped. “Because you’re questioning me. I might not be the smartest guy around, but I can tell when you’re in cop mode.”
She shook her head, her breath quickening. The last person she’d want to hurt was her shy uncle. “No. I’m just following up on a witness’s statement and wondered if you were another witness. Anybody familiar with Snowblood Peak and the surrounding trails might have information they don’t realize we need. If you were a suspect, I wouldn’t be talking to you alone.” That might not be the truth.
“Oh.” He smiled. “Okay.” The wind clattered ice against the outside of the storage unit. “You should get going, Laurel. Another storm is coming.”
She shivered, too far from the fireplace to feel its heat. “All right. Call me if you think of anything else, okay?”
“I will.” Carl turned and pushed his hair away from his face. “I’d never kill anybody. Just thought I should tell you.”
“I know.” She opened the door and strode back into the punishing weather. It was entirely possible that Abigail had been taunting her. If so, she’d done a good job.
Chapter Fourteen
Laurel slid the SUV to a stop in the vacant parking area at the base of Snowblood Peak. In front of the vehicle, a low rolling fog wound through the trees with ghostlike tendrils, and she shivered. She opened the door and secured her coat, zipping it up and then pulling a hat onto her head and gloves onto her hands. She’d tucked a flashlight in her pocket and her gun at her waist. The solid feeling of the weapon gave her a sense of control in the desolate area.
The wildly flowered jeans were warm on her legs but uncomfortable stuffed into her boots because they were too long.
She surveyed the area. The lot had been plowed that morning, but solid ice had hardened over the asphalt. Silence, complete and full, surrounded her as if the wilderness held its breath; even the wind had given up the battle for now. Snow and ice hung motionlessly from the surrounding trees.
Alone. She was entirely alone, the sole breathing human for miles.
A tingling at the base of her neck brought her to a standstill. Slowly, she scanned the entire area around her, but only saw watchful trees, sharp rocks, and frozen brush. Against all logic, adrenaline surged into her bloodstream, urging her body to flee.
She centered herself and kept her hand loose in case she needed to reach for her weapon. She looked up at Snowblood Peak. Its jagged edges rose high, puncturing the bellies of the turgid clouds. Even from this distance, she could see icicles hanging precariously from the rock face, waiting to drop and slice through an unsuspecting animal.
Her shiver this time wasn’t caused by the chilly weather.
She squared her stance and stared at the peak, mute witness to the atrocities carried out on the trail. If only the rocks could talk.
A rumble sounded from the road, and a dinged-up blue truck stopped next to her SUV. Walter jumped out, slapping a hat over his wide head. “Sorry I’m late. Had some trouble getting the engine to start.” He zipped up a heavy-looking green parka and drew the hood over his hat. “You ready?” He tucked gloves over his beefy hands.
Relief slowed her heartbeat, and she gave herself a second to regain control. “It’s good to see you. I was letting my imagination run away with me out here by myself.”
Walter wiped at a yellow stain on his coat and tucked a flashlight into his pocket. “You don’t seem like the imaginative type. More like a Mr. Spock than a Captain Kirk.”
Laurel pulled her gloves farther up her wrists. “Thank you?”
“Wasn’t an insult. Just an observation.” Walter clapped his gloves together and looked down the trail. “Although, I get it. Standing here with just the two of us, I can feel those souls wandering beneath that peak. Like they’re stuck in that valley until we figure out what happened.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Laurel asked, truly curious.
“No, but I believe in souls, good and evil.” Walter peered up at the darkening clouds, his eyes more brown than green in the already dimming light. “We’d better get a move on. The storm is coming.”
“Yes.” She shook off her unease, turned, and led the way through an opening in the short metal fence enclosing the parking area, then followed a trail thick with snow. She sank in up to her knees, so she kicked her way between the trees just waiting to dump their load on her head.
“Want me to take the lead?” Walter asked, already huffing behind her as they followed the trail down toward the picnic area by the river. At least one of his knees popped every few yards, and he was mouth breathing, which indicated that his body was under duress.
