Was that small talk? Maybe. “I have degrees in bioinformatics and integrative genomics, data science, organizational behavior, psychology with an emphasis in abnormal psychology, game theory, and mathematics.”
“Right.” Huck drank more of his coffee. “I guess physics would be in some of those disciplines. So tell me why somebody would stalk a woman until she hid in the woods and then find her, smash in her face, and cut off her hands.”
“Anything I said would be conjecture at this point.” Laurel took a drink of the latte. Staggers used excellent chai—it was just spicy enough. “At first glance, it appeared the killer wanted to hide the victim’s identity, which means he could be tied to her somehow. Then with the flowers at Abigail’s house, he created more than one possible crime scene and way to track him. To find the hands of the victim just waiting on a tree stump is . . . odd.”
“What could it signify?” He glanced in the back at his dog and then returned his focus to the snowy road.
That was an excellent question. “He has a problem with hands? He wanted to confound us?” She thought back to the crime scene. “There were no hesitation marks, but with an ax, there probably wouldn’t be. This might’ve been his first kill.” Laurel settled more comfortably in the seat. “He didn’t want her hands and didn’t care if we found them. So why take her hands in the first place?” There were a few reasons she could think of immediately, but psychopaths didn’t think linearly. “Perhaps she fought him and got in a good punch, so he took her hands. Or maybe he has a fetish for hands or severed wrists. I have no way of knowing.”
“Any idea why Dr. Ortega wants to meet us in person instead of giving us his report over the phone?”
Laurel started. “No. Why?”
“Because he was emphatic about it and said that you had to be present.” Huck cut her a look, his eyes a deep sepia in the morning light. “Care to explain?”
The hair sprang up on the back of her neck. Instinct whispered that this was one of those proverbial land mines, and she’d never been able to navigate them. Yet it was a noticeable improvement that she even recognized it as such. “I don’t have an explanation, and your tone lowered two decibels when you asked the question, so I surmise there’s a hidden meaning or question there. Would you please clarify that for me?”
He shot her a look from the corner of his eye. With his dark hair falling over his ears, he looked like a dangerous mountain man. The kind of male Kate would call a hot badass. “My voice did not lower.”
“Yes, it did.” She tilted her head, trying to dig deep into his. What was this about?
His chest filled and then he slowly exhaled. “I just need to know if there’s anything going on that will screw up my investigation. Anything between you and Ortega.”
She blinked. “We worked with Dr. Ortega on the Snowblood Peak killings, Huck.” Had he somehow forgotten that? “Have you sustained a head injury since we last worked together?” That would explain why he hadn’t bothered to call.
The look he shot her this time wasn’t veiled. Irritation with a hint of amusement lifted his upper lip. She’d studied facial expressions and emotionsad nauseamthrough the years, trying to learn how to relate to people. It appeared she was finally becoming proficient at it.
“Are you being a smartass?” he asked.
“No,” she said honestly.
He shook his head. “Forget about it.”
“I don’t forget anything.” She was missing something, an understanding just out of her reach. Like something fluttering slightly beyond her line of vision. Her mind mulled it over. “You and I had one night together. You said it was a ‘one-off,’ I agreed, and I thought we were becoming friends.”
She chewed on her lip, not needing him to respond. “Yet you dislike the idea that a relationship might have begun between Dr. Ortega and me.” Her mind knitted connections together faster than her hands could piece a quilt. “So you don’t want the case compromised, you’re concerned that he’s much older and married, or you don’t like me being intimate with another man just because I had sex with you one night?” Triumph filled her. “Am I close?”
He looked fully her way. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No.” Her shoulders fell.
“It was more than once.”
Warmth filtered through her. “That’s factual. One night.” Three times in one night. The captain had stamina. “Am I misinterpreting your words?”
He studied her and then looked back out the front window. “You are an odd one, Laurel Snow.”
“This is not the first time I’ve heard that statement,” she said, taking another drink of her latte. She could talk to Kate later about the entire conversation. The woman was admirably insightful.
“Fine. It’s probably all three of those things,” Huck said, not looking at her. “I don’t want my case messed up, I don’t like the idea of Ortega cheating on his wife, who is a very nice person, and I don’t enjoy the image of you sleeping with him. Happy now?”
Happy wasn’t exactly her state of being, but she was definitely intrigued. “How do you know his wife?”
“I’ve lived here awhile, Agent Snow,” Huck muttered. “I get out once in a while, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” she mused, finishing off her drink. “The last time I spoke with Dr. Ortega was during the Snowblood Peak murders, and I have no personal relationship with him. I don’t know why he insisted I accompany you today or why he refused to relay the results over the phone.” More importantly, she didn’t understand why Huck would care if she became intimate with the medical examiner. “You and I do not have a personal relationship. Correct?”
“Right.”
