The group collectively leaned toward the phone.
“What?” Huck asked.
“Hair caught in the back of the victim’s throat,” the ME said.
Monty frowned. “Like she bit the guy? Pulled out his hair?”
“No. It’s dog hair,” Dr. Ortega said. “I’m sending a sample to the lab at Seattle University to determine what kind of dog. It’s white and black. I’ll be in touch.” He clicked off.
Laurel ran through several scenarios in her brain at once. None of them were good.
Sheriff York pushed his chair away from the table. “Sounds like Karelian Bear Dog hair to me. Let’s see. Who has a dog like that around here?”
Huck pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come on.”
York crossed his arms. “Tell us, Captain. Where were you last night?”
“Home,” Huck growled. “Just like you. I attended the scene at Dr. Caine’s house and then went home to get some much-needed sleep. You can’t be going down that road again.”
“Can’t I?” Sheriff York drawled. “Let’s see. Both times Agent Snow is attacked, you’re close enough by to be the first one on the scene. Then last night, another woman ends up dead in the parking lot, and we all agree the perp knew the placement of the cameras and how to avoid them. Also, for a guy who seems to be so popular, you sure don’t have alibis when you need them.”
Laurel’s temples began to ache. She really had no choice here. “I was with the captain all night. At his house. This morning when I left his house, he was still there, while I came to work and found the body.” Her face tingled as she blushed, but her personal life, or lack thereof, was nobody else’s business.
York’s gaze narrowed. She prepared herself for the blow, but instead, he just shook his head. “No offense, Agent Snow, but you were three sheets to the wind when Rivers took you from the hospital last night.”
Laurel turned to look more fully at the sheriff. “You were at the hospital?”
His expression cleared. “See what I mean? I even asked you a few questions last night. You have one of those photographic memories, right?”
“Eidetic memory,” she corrected, frowning as flashes of the night before slid through her mind. “I don’t recall seeing you.”
“I waved at you as the captain took you out of the hospital,” Sheriff York said.
Laurel sat back, most of the night a hazy blur after the pain medication she’d taken. “Well.”
“Exactly,” Sheriff York said, his nostrils flaring. “Forgetting for the moment that you ended up flat on your back for someone on your task force, which has to be against FBI policy, you were drugged at the time and can’t provide an alibi.”
Huck stood, anger flushing red up his corded neck. “Apologize to Agent Snow. Now.”
Tension rolled through the room.
York’s smile was salacious, to say the least. “I do apologize for my characterization, Agent Snow. Chances are you were on top.”
Huck lunged.
Monty intercepted him before he could make it across the table, hooking one arm around Huck’s waist in a surprisingly fast movement. “Huck, stop. We need you here.” He immediately released Huck, who outweighed him by at least thirty pounds of muscle. Maybe more.
Sheriff York jumped to his feet. “Let’s go, asshole. I’ve been waiting for a piece of you ever since you came home to hide in the woods.”
Laurel pushed away from the table. “Everyone calm down. We’re on the same team here.”
“Are we?” the sheriff blurted out, eyeing the other team members, and then staring directly at Huck. “I’m not sure about that. If I wanted a good alibi, a drugged-out FBI special agent, one who’s known to dig into criminal minds better than any other, would be the perfect one to have. Do you remember the entire night, Agent Snow? Can you testify, under oath, that Captain Rivers didn’t leave his house last night?”
Laurel sank back down in her chair. Not only could she not testify to that fact, she vaguely remembered awakening to find that Huck was not in bed with her. “I’m telling you, I would stake my professional reputation on the fact that Huck Rivers is not the Snowblood Peak killer.”
“You’re compromised and should be off this case.” Sheriff York grinned, moving his mustache, which now had a piece of pepperoni in it. “You know, if I were a serial killer, I’d want you off this case, too, Agent Snow—if you’re as good as everyone says, which I kind of doubt. Could it be that the captain played this all perfectly?”
Huck looked as if he was about to tear the room apart. “Would it be humanly possible for you to be any more of a moron, York? Just curious.”
