The sheriff lost his smile. “I’m not the one fucking an FBI profiler.”
“That’s it.” Monty grabbed the sheriff by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “Everyone needs to cool the hell off. Captain Rivers? I would like to formally interview you again about all of the murders. I can make the request through professional channels, or you can just cooperate. It’s up to you.”
Huck’s chin lifted. “I understand, and I’m happy to speak with you. You’re good at your job, Monty.”
“Do you want your representative here?” Monty asked, pushing the sheriff out the door and shutting it.
“No,” Huck growled.
Laurel swallowed. She should take herself off the case, although she didn’t like it. In fact, she wasn’t done yet. “Did you get any more information about the cemetery truck?”
Huck shook his head. “No. Got the call about the dead body here and came right away. I do have officers out at the cemetery, and so far, they can’t find your uncle or the truck that’s missing from the storage building. Doesn’t mean he has it. Stay out of this one, Laurel. If he does have that truck, you can’t be involved.”
“I know, but my uncle would never shoot at me or kill women.” Laurel’s phone buzzed, and she drew it from her pocket, her mind still reeling. How could dog hair have been found on the latest victim? It was true that Laurel had been out from the pain meds last night and Huck could’ve gone anywhere. But she knew he hadn’t done it. It just didn’t track. “Hello?” she said.
“Hello? Is this FBI Agent Snow?” a woman asked.
“Yes,” Laurel said.
“This is Dr. Davis from Genesis Valley Hospital, and you’re the emergency contact for Dr. Abigail Caine. Please come right away.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Laurel dashed out of the mist into the hospital emergency entrance, hurrying to the front desk and flipping open her badge. “I’m Agent Snow, and I was called about Dr. Abigail Caine.” Was it possible the killer had gone after Abigail when he’d failed to hit Laurel the night before? And why was she Abigail’s emergency contact?
A nurse emerged from a closed doorway. “Oh, hello. Please come this way.” She appeared to be in her seventies with dark gray hair and spotless white tennis shoes.
Laurel glanced at the receptionist and then followed the nurse by several examination rooms to the one at the end. She walked inside to see Abigail sitting on the edge of a bed while a young doctor wrapped her right wrist. Abigail wore her natural hair and eye colors. “What is going on?” Laurel asked.
Abigail looked up. “Last night, when you tackled me, I hurt my wrist. In all of the excitement, I thought it was just bruised, but the swelling and pain have gotten worse. It’s a good thing our family members are ambidextrous.” She looked at the young doctor and gifted him with a full smile. The guy was probably in his midthirties with black hair, deep brown skin, and steady hands. “That’s my sister. She saved my life, you know.”
The doctor looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hi. Yeah, I definitely see the resemblance.”
“Hi,” Laurel answered. “Is it broken?”
“Just a bad bruise, but I don’t like the swelling,” the doctor said. “We’re wrapping it, and I want your sister to ice it every other hour or so.” He turned back to Abigail. “The pain pill will wear off in a few hours and after that, take ibuprofen for the pain, and you should be okay, Abigail.” He finished and stood up. “How’s that?”
“Perfect,” Abigail said, winking at him. Her auburn hair curled around her ears, and her multicolored eyes sparkled. Apparently she was no longer hiding her true colors. “Are you single?”
The doctor grinned. “I’m engaged. Have a nice day.” He turned and strode out of the room.
Laurel leaned against the doorframe, her entire body aching. “Abigail? Why am I your emergency contact?”
Abigail smiled and swung her feet. “You’re my sister. Of course, you’re my emergency contact. I updated my medical form when I arrived here earlier.” She hopped off the table and winced. “Next time you save my life, try to land easier, would you?” Then she reached Laurel. “Although I appreciate it. I really do.”
Laurel looked up the four or so inches Abigail had on her. She had to figure out the right way to say what she wasn’t sure she even felt. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Sure it does.” Abigail slung her arm through Laurel’s and turned her back into the hallway. “We share blood, Laurel. I may not know much or understand a lot about this world, but that means something to me. We look alike, and even though you don’t appreciate the fact, deep down, we’reexactlythe same.”
“No, we’re not,” Laurel said, passing through the doorway to the reception area again.
Abigail’s laugh was tinkly. “Go ahead and tell yourself that if it helps you to sleep. You know the truth. We both do.” She sighed. “We look exactly alike, and we’re ambidextrous. Tell me, do you experience synesthesia?”
“Only if I’m very stressed. Otherwise, I’ve learned to deal and ignore,” Laurel said shortly. People with synesthesia could experience sensations where the brain triggers more than one sense at a time. Sometimes she could smell colors. “I don’t want to talk about it, Abigail.” She needed space.
Abigail sniffed. “Fine. We’ll share our idiosyncrasies later. For now, I have to tell you, watching that hunky Huck Rivers carry you to his truck last night gave me butterflies. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a threesome? A lot of men have fantasies about twins.”
Laurel stumbled. “No. I would not be interested in a threesome, and you and I are not twins.”
