Laurel watched Huck, her gaze curious.
He focused on her. “You and I will investigate Lisa Scotford since she’s a new direction for this killer. I’d like to interview her family, trace her steps in the last week, and see where we end up. Sound good?”
Laurel stood, her case file tucked beneath one arm. “I’ll report to my team upstairs and meet you in your lobby in ten minutes.” She walked out of the room, right past the sheriff as if she’d already forgotten his existence.
Huck hid a grin. She just got more likable every day. He gathered his paperwork and strode out of the conference room. Hopefully there was a thermos in his office he could fill with coffee and drink all day. He walked through his office door and stopped short at seeing Dr. Abigail Caine sitting in his guest chair, with the papers that had been stacked there now neatly piled on the floor.
She smiled red-tinted lips. “Hello there, Captain Rivers.”
* * *
Yana huddled in the cold container after a long night of screaming for help. How had she gotten here? She’d been asleep, and something had woken her. Before she could turn over in the bed, her head had all but exploded, and she’d passed out. The lump at the base of her skull hurt and still bled. Who had hit her?
She’d awakened in this metal container, freezing to death, without any clothes. There was only a crappy lantern and a scratchy wool blanket that smelled like body sweat, old perfume, and blood. She’d been captured late Tuesday night. Had the kidnapper been watching her, or had he just gotten lucky? She always took Wednesdays and Thursdays off work because she earned better commissions at the car dealership by working long weekends, so nobody even knew she was missing yet.
Where was she?
What time was it? It had to be early morning or even afternoon on Wednesday. Her throat hurt from screaming for so long, but there was nobody around to hear her except the wind and the storm. Her nails bled from scraping against the lever to open the door. It was locked, and there was no way out.
When was he coming back?
He’d left her without clothing, just like all of the dead women they’d found tossed over Snowblood Peak. Then they’d found that other victim by the river, dead and naked after being strangled. She’d read the early breaking reports with fascination, just like everyone else.
She let the tears fall. She’d use the lantern against him if he came back. What if he didn’t? What if her kidnapper got in some car accident and died? Nobody would ever find her. Her stomach growled, already hungry. How long could a body go without water?
A prayer came to her mind, one she’d learned at her church. The Genesis Community Church congregation would come looking for her the second she was discovered missing.
She sank to the floor and wrapped the coarse blanket tightly against her prickling flesh. Her hair was blond, she was twenty-five, and she fit the description of all the other victims she’d read about in the paper. She’d broken up with Davey a month ago, and she didn’t have plans for the next couple of nights, so there would be nobody to even miss her until she failed to show up for work on Friday morning.
Had the kidnapper known her schedule, or did he just not care?
If he didn’t return, she’d die alone here.
Worse yet, what if he did come back?
Chapter Nineteen
“Hi.” Huck paused for a second in his doorway.
Dr. Abigail Caine sat in his guest chair, her long legs crossed beneath a short red skirt. Black leather boots with red bottoms hugged her shapely legs, while her black sweater hugged every other part of her. A whiff of French perfume, the fancy kind that smelled like spiced roses, wafted around her. “I do hope I’m not bothering you.”
He glanced at Aeneas in the corner, sleeping on his bed. Usually the dog pestered guests for love, but apparently not this guest. “Not at all.” Tossing the file folders on an already tipping pile, he walked around and sat in his chair to keep the desk between them. He hated having a desk. When this case was over, he wanted his former deal back. The one that kept him away from any sort of a team. “What can I do for you, Dr. Caine?”
“Abigail,” she purred, leaning toward him. A shiny diamond necklace in the shape of a spike hung between her generous breasts, which were outlined nicely beneath her thin black sweater. “I insist.” She was tall and blond and definitely his type, but his instincts put him on edge with her.
What was it about this woman that set him off? Was it the way she looked at him—as if he were a steak hanging in a butcher’s counter? He’d normally like that kind of thing, but not from her. What was it? He glanced at his watch. “I just have a minute. What’s going on?”
She pushed her platinum blond hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t know whether to contact you or not, but I couldn’t let this rest. I saw a man several times in the vicinity of Snowblood Peak, mainly near the river and hiking trails. His name was Carl, and I told Agent Snow about him, but she didn’t seem inclined to follow up on the lead. Then I discovered that she has an uncle named Carl, and when I googled him, it was the same man. I found his picture as one of the minority owners of the Pure Heart Tea Company, and his face is horribly scarred. He tried to hide it when I was with him, but when I saw his picture online, all of those memories came flooding back. You can’t miss him.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “I know Laurel Snow is a good FBI agent, but when family is involved, all rules are banished. Don’t you agree?”
He leaned back in his chair. “No. For me, the rules are never banished.” Hopefully she’d read everything into that statement that he intended. “Tell me about this Carl. What did you see him do?”
“Oh, nothing.” She uncrossed and then recrossed her legs the other way, her thigh muscles flexing. “I just saw him several times on the trail. He was using some sort of crutch to get through the weeds.”
Huck tilted his head. “Carl was injured?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Perhaps that’s why I remember it so clearly. He was moving quickly and seemed to be in good shape. It was as if . . .” She looked over at Aeneas as though thinking and trying to remember. “As if he was pretending to use the crutch.” Her hands fluttered and she clasped them in her lap. “It’s silly. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”
If the woman was telling the truth, it was information Huck needed. “Tell me everything you remember.”
