Laurel hurried to the kitchen and scribbled a quick note for her mom before heading out to her borrowed farm truck. “We have to work fast. You go to the office and create a list of anybody who could’ve taken Aeneas’s fur and put it in the latest victim.” She opened the door.
“Wait. Huck wanted us to stick together.”
“Huck’s in an uncertain situation and he’s trying to gain control where there isn’t any. I’m not some woman who needs protection, Monty. For a second, Huck forgot that fact.” She slid into the cold truck and shivered.
Monty whistled. “What’s your plan?”
What was her plan? She needed a plan. Thoughts spun around her brain, forming connections, breaking apart, and forming more. “I can’t see it,” she said. “It’s so close. I think this arrest and throwing suspicion on Huck is the connection I’ve been looking for.” She fumbled for her keys in her bag.
She could hear Aeneas barking over the phone.
“I need to go through my notes and stare at the board in my office.” She pushed hair away from her face. “Let’s meet in two hours in your conference room and go through everything we have. We’ll find the killer in those notes. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at the office.” Monty disengaged the call.
What was she missing? She started the truck and drove slowly down the driveway. Her board. She needed to stare at the board so the pieces could fall into place. Who had access to the fur? According to Monty, that was a wide selection of people.
Her phone buzzed and she lifted it to her ear. “Snow.”
“Hey, Laurel. Your mom left a message early last night saying you were looking for me. I was fishin’ out at Alley’s Creek. What’s up?” Uncle Carl asked.
Laurel sped up. “The police were looking for you because of that old truck you use at the cemetery.”
“Yeah. I haven’t driven it in a while because it’s a summer rig. Why?” Carl coughed.
She kept her voice gentle. “Somebody borrowed it, and they shot at me. Think, Uncle Carl. Who could’ve taken that truck?”
He coughed some more. “No clue. We use it all summer and let the 4-H kids use it as well. Heck. Even some of the farms around here have borrowed it when they needed a rig. You know how folks are with farm trucks. Last year, the senior class of the high school decorated it for a float. Everyone knows it’s in the tool shed, and anybody can get in there. If it’s stolen, it isn’t worth much.”
That was true. “Uncle Carl? Have you ever seen Huck’s dog?”
“Huh?” Carl asked.
“His dog. The pretty black and white one,” Laurel said, her mind working so fast her head hurt.
Carl coughed again. “No. Sorry. Why?”
“No reason.” She knew her uncle hadn’t done anything wrong.
He coughed again. “I think I got the flu.”
Her brain clicked. She was so close to figuring this out. “All right. I have to go.”
“Um, let’s do dinner soon. I don’t like that I’m so weird, I’ve been a suspect in this,” he mumbled.
Her heart ached. “You’re not weird and you’re not a suspect in anything, Uncle Carl.” She cleared her throat. “Mom told me everything. You probably saved her that night.”
Carl was silent.
Laurel should’ve waited to say something in person. “I love you, Carl. Don’t worry about this. I’ve got your back.”
“Okay. Be careful, Laurel. You’re all we’ve got.” With that, he ended the call.
She rubbed her chest. Poor Carl. He seemed so tough and solitary, but being a suspect had apparently hurt his feelings. She couldn’t blame him. She reached over to call her mom, who should be out of bed by now. The call went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Laurel. Call me, would you? Thanks.” She ended the call, mildly uneasy. Maybe she should’ve checked in on her mom that morning, but Laurel hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep.
The parking lot of her office was vacant save for the cars of other staff. The news vans had probably followed the sheriff and Huck to where he’d be booked, or at the very least, interviewed. She jumped out of her car and ran up the stairs to her office, nearly dropping a ball of yarn from her bag.
Her phone dinged and relief filled her. It had to be her mother. “Hi,” she answered.
