Laurel stored that information away for later. She couldn’t imagine Huck hitting a woman. “Were you drinking during the two domestic violence calls that occurred when you were dating Casey?”
Meyer nodded. “Yeah. I’ve stopped now, and I regret my actions. I was drinking both times and yelled at her. Even hit the wall, but I never touched her. Now I can’t show her how much I’ve changed by giving up booze.” A tear slid down his cheek.
Laurel cleared her throat. “You don’t have an alibi for her time of death. Care to explain that?”
He shook his head. “If I was gonna kill her, I would’ve found an alibi. I did not kill her.”
“Yet you threatened her and scared her enough that she called the police on you. Twice,” Laurel pushed.
He gulped. “Guess I didn’t threaten her enough, right? Huck Rivers scared the shit out of her, and she never called the police on him. Of course, he is the police. This ain’t fair, and I know I’m screwed. But I did not kill her. Now, I’m out of here.” He shuffled to the door, and a guard opened it to lead him back to his cell.
Steve stood. “It was nice to meet you, Agent Snow.” Then he looked at Walter. “Meyer is not a killer, and we all know it. There’s not enough to convict him on Casey’s murder, and I’m assuming the charge of homicide will be dropped soon.”
Laurel didn’t get a hint that Meyer Jackson was a murderer, but people lied. Sociopaths did it well, and maybe he was one, although she wasn’t feeling it. “I believe in facts, Mr. Bearing.”
Bearing’s smile turned charming. “Honestly. Meyer really has changed now that he’s off the booze, and he deeply regrets scaring Casey. He didn’t kill her, and now that his case is apparently being connected with the Snowblood Peak murders, I’m thinking I have a decent defense to mount.”
Laurel tilted her head. “Since Casey worked for you, I’ll need to interview you at your convenience.”
His eyes sparkled. “I’d like that, Agent Snow. Call the office, and I’m at your disposal.” He leaned over to lift his briefcase and then followed his client out of the dismal room.
Walter’s chair croaked beneath his weight. “What a waste of space,” he muttered.
Laurel turned toward him. “I didn’t get a chance to read the rest of the file. Who found Casey Morgan?”
“A couple of moms taking up jogging after work,” Walter said. “They both alibied before that time, just happened to find her body. Didn’t see anybody else around.”
The door burst open, and Sheriff York barreled inside. He was in full uniform, his badge shining brightly from his breast, and his chest puffed out. Fury cascaded off him with enough force that even someone who ignored subtext could feel it.
Walter jumped up, standing at the edge of the table like a bulldog prepared to lunge.
Laurel purposely kept her seat. If the sheriff had intended to startle her, he wasn’t going to have the satisfaction of knowing it. “Sheriff York. How are you?”
“I’m pissed off, lady. What the hell are you doing?” Even the sheriff ’s receding hairline turned a mottled red.
“Investigating.” That was her job.
His body shook and spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth. “No. What you’re doing is fucking up my case. One that was solid but now looks like jelly. You have just given the defense attorney reasonable doubt. If Bearing can plant enough hints about Casey Morgan being killed by the Snowblood Peak killer, then a murderer will go free. Is that what you want?” His hand rested on the gun at his waist.
That had to be a rhetorical question.
She stood and slung her laptop bag over her shoulder. “There’s a good case to be made that Ms. Morgan was our killer’s first victim.”
“Bullshit,” the sheriff spat, his eyes wild and his pupils dilated. “The body was found nowhere near Snowblood Peak. It was at the opposite side of town near the baseball field, and there were no signs of rape. This was an anger killing, not a planned one.”
Laurel watched him, noting his irritation. “I agree that the death and scene weren’t planned, but it could’ve been an initial kidnapping gone bad. She fits the victimology, Sheriff.”
“She wasn’t a hooker,” the sheriff burst out.
Walter hitched up his belt. “Neither was Lisa Scotford.”
Laurel’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her bag to read the screen and see that Huck Rivers would meet her at the office in twenty minutes so they could interview Pastor John Govern again.
She’d have to interview Huck about Casey Morgan at the same time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Huck eyed the snowflakes covering the faded wallpaper that featured naked women as he climbed the stairs to the FBI reception area. The waiting room was full of dust and held one glass display case with a sparkling Christmas village inside. He moved toward the only visible door and opened it, staring down a hallway.
