More papers rustled. “Jackie?” George bellowed. “Does Snow have a new flight?”
Laurel grimaced at the sudden pain in her ear.
George returned. “You’ve been switched to Flight 234, leaving in ten minutes. They’re holding the door open for you, but we could only get you a middle seat.”
At least the gate was close to her current location, and she’d be flying into Everett, which was a quicker drive to Genesis Valley than the drive from Sea-Tac. She loped into a jog, pulling her wheeled carry-on behind her. “I only have a weekend bag and my agency-issued Glock.” She hadn’t brought her personal weapon.
“I’m not expecting this to be anything. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to see if it’s a case we want or not, and don’t forget, you called in a favor,” George said.
Her temples ached. “Even so, you don’t want me being the face of the FBI. I don’t relate well to students or prospects.” At least two people had actually left during her presentation.
“Get good with people,” George countered.
She reached the gate and flashed her ID to the impatient-looking gate agent. The woman kept tapping her heel. “I’m boarding. If you get any more information on the skulls, please send it to my tablet so I’m not going in blind.” Her stomach cramped with instinct as well as from her knowledge of statistical probabilities. Three different skulls found on the peak?
There was a murderer close to her hometown.
Chapter Two
“Laurel? Laurel Snow?” a female voice asked.
Laurel had already clocked the woman and moved on. She paused as the wind pierced her thin jacket and the first spear of icy rain drilled her forehead outside the airport. “Yes?”
The woman hurried forward from a dented green Volkswagen Bug parked at the curb outside baggage claim in Everett. “I’m Kate Vuittron.” She held out a manicured hand with scarlet-painted fingernails. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Laurel shook Kate’s hand. The woman had to be in her early forties and was dressed entirely in red. Flowered red blouse, bright red skirt, and even red Mary Jane pumps with lighter red straps across the ankle. As if that wasn’t enough, red streaks ran through her long blond hair.
“It’s nice to meet you. You know my mom?” Laurel asked.
Kate dodged a guy with three suitcases and then rolled her eyes. “Kind of? I applied for a job at the tea warehouse, but she doesn’t have any openings. Deidre kept my info and called me this morning.” She reached for the carry-on. “Let me take this. You sure pack light.” She grasped the handle and moved efficiently to place it in the back seat of the Bug. “Hop in.”
Laurel opened the door and slid inside, setting her laptop bag on the floor. Florida Georgia Line blared from the radio, and heat blasted her, taking the edge off the cold northern Washington weather.
“Sorry.” Kate sat, shut her door, turned down the music, put her seatbelt on, and zipped away from the curb.
Laurel scrambled to secure her seatbelt. Horns blared behind them. She took a deep breath. “My mom hired you just to pick me up?”
“Yeah,” Kate said, cutting off a bus as she switched lanes. “I think she felt sorry for me, but she shouldn’t. I’m fine.” Her tone of voice said otherwise.
Deidre had always had a soft spot for all wounded animals. Laurel eyed the woman. The manicure was good but home painted, the hair was a red spray on, and the jewelry was absent. Interesting.
“Thank you for picking me up. I have to make a quick phone call.” Laurel took her phone from her purse and used official lines, going through the deputy director’s tough assistant before reaching him. “Hello, sir. Did you dig anything up?”
“Yes.” George loudly moved papers. “Let’s see. This morning around eight, off Snowblood Peak, at least three bodies were found by a bunch of kids who wrecked something called a UTV. Huh. Guess that’s like a four-wheeler but with doors. Nice.”
Rain with a hint of ice pinged against the windshield.
“Are the kids all right?” Laurel asked.
“Yeah. I talked to a doctor and they’re upset, but physically all four are okay, with the worst injury being a dislocated shoulder. The hospital is keeping them for observation until tomorrow,” George said.
That was a relief. Laurel swallowed. “Has the media become involved yet?”
“Not to my knowledge,” George said. “You’ll know more on the ground.”
Laurel craned her neck to check out the nimbus clouds, their bellies dark and jagged while their tops grew even more swollen. “If it’s raining near the city, it’s snowing up on the peak. Has a team been sent up there with spotlights?”
“Yes,” George said. “I’ve confirmed that a state team from Seattle is up there now. They’re trying to preserve everything they can, but the ground is wet and still a danger, so they have to proceed carefully. We don’t have a federal team there, and even if you want jurisdiction, I’d prefer to work with the state on this.”
