Darn it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paper snowflakes of all different sizes and shapes had been taped over the nude lady wallpaper leading up the steps to the FBI unit’s offices. Laurel held her breath as she opened the door, hoping there would be furniture.
“Hi.” Kate sat behind the glass display counter, which now held a Christmas village, complete with sparkling lights. “I brought some decorations from home—I hope that’s okay. How are you feeling?”
“I’m well, just have a few contusions that are lovely shades of purple,” Laurel said, turning to look at a small Christmas tree decked out with multicolored lights and blue ornaments. “The decorations are nice. Thanks for bringing them.”
Kate hopped out of her leather chair. “You’re welcome. Since I moved from my house in Seattle to a much smaller one in town, I don’t have room for all of my decorations. I’m glad to use them.”
Laurel smiled, catching her enthusiasm.
Kate pursed her lips. “You changed out of Butthead Rivers’s shirt.”
Heat suffused Laurel’s face. Was this what friendship felt like? “Yes.” She looked down at the cream-colored pants and frilly yellow shirt she was wearing. “I need to get my own clothes so I can stop borrowing from my mother. I don’t even feel like myself.” She’d had to roll up the pants and tuck the bottoms of them into her boots.
“If you can’t get your belongings from DC, you could do some Internet shopping with one-day shipping from Seattle.” Kate wore winter-white pants and a blue sweater today, along with high-heeled brown boots. She walked to the door that opened into the rest of the space. “I haven’t been able to requisition furniture yet.”
Laurel followed. “The supply clog that is the federal government takes time.”
“I didn’t decorate the rest of the space because I wasn’t sure who celebrated what and if anybody would care, but we can go all out if we want.” Kate paused by the conference room to the right.
Laurel paused at the sight of Walter Smudgeon on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper. “Morning.”
“Morning.” Walter looked up. “We need to talk. There’s no table yet, but the floor works for me.” His eyes gleamed.
Laurel strode inside and dropped to the floor, careful of her mom’s light-colored pants. “A team meeting. Okay. What do you have?”
He rubbed his chin, and his jowls shook. His skin still held a tinge of gray, but his breathing seemed even. He pushed a stack of papers toward her, and they caught on splinters in the floor. “So far, we have nothing about the person who shot at you last night. The truck you described could belong to any farmer around here. Most probably wouldn’t even notice if one went missing for a while.”
That’s what Laurel had figured. “My getting shot at illustrates that we’re getting somewhere on the Snowblood Peak case.” Although she didn’t yet know where that might be. “We need to take a closer look at everyone we’ve already spoken with.”
“Agreed.” Smudgeon pulled a piece of paper from beneath his coffee cup. “I conducted the research you asked for, and I have computer techs in DC doing deep dives. For now, I found a similar crime in this area that took place about fourteen months ago. A young woman was found strangled, her body dumped near the town square at the edge of the baseball diamond.”
Laurel’s eyebrows rose. She straightened. “That’s quite a distance from Snowblood Peak.”
He scanned the papers. “The victim’s name was Casey Morgan, she was twenty-four, and she was blond. An arrest was made by Sheriff York, and the defendant is awaiting trial, having been held over without bond after suffering a nervous breakdown and ending up in the county psych ward. He’s out of the hospital now, healthy enough for trial, I guess.” Smudgeon scratched his head beneath his thinning hair. “The victimology is similar. This is the only case like ours that I’ve found. So far.”
It was a good lead. Smudgeon had skills. “Tell me more,” Laurel murmured.
He settled his bulk, warming to the subject. “Casey Morgan was a paralegal for the Bearing Law Firm. They’re the best firm in town, and they work in tandem with two of the largest Seattle law firms. From what I could glean from just a couple of phone calls this morning, Casey worked hard, had a lot of friends, and volunteered with high-risk youth in her spare time.”
Laurel took note. “High risk? Like in the cities along with the Genesis Community Church?”
“Yes. My third phone call of the day, with her landlady, confirmed that Casey was a member of the church.”
Laurel’s heart rate sped up. “If we have an early victim, there’s a chance the killer made a mistake. Maybe the quick discovery of Casey’s murder taught him to dispose of the bodies over a cliff?” She hummed. “Did Casey have family?”
“Not here. Single mom back in Indiana, and they weren’t close. Casey moved out here on a volleyball scholarship from Genesis Valley Community College and graduated with a paralegal degree. She worked in Seattle for a while and got the job with the Bearing Law Firm about two years ago.” Walter reached for his coffee mug.
“What about the arrest?” Laurel asked.
“Name is Meyer Jackson. He’s the ex-boyfriend, drinker, abusive. That’s all I could get from the landlady, and Sheriff York hasn’t returned my call, nor has the prosecuting attorney.” Walter smiled. “However, I do have friends, and here’s the autopsy report. I had it emailed to me, and we printed it out with that crappy printer the kids found and brought in.” He handed over yellowed paper.
Laurel hadn’t realized they’d acquired a printer. She read through the autopsy report. “Blunt force trauma, blood at the scene, strangulation as cause of death. No evidence of sexual assault.” Facts and patterns morphed together in her mind, creating a blanket of possibilities. “She put up an impressive fight.” The defensive wounds were expansive. “No DNA found on her?”
“No. He took her clothing and wiped her down with bleach. Poured it over her entire body and made sure her hands were burned right through,” Smudgeon muttered. “The guy was prepared, just in case.”
