“By yourself?” Huck asked.
“I was in Billings at a Pacific Northwest mayoral conference,” the mayor said. “I caught the first flight home this morning.”
Huck nodded. “I need a list of people who can confirm that. Thanks.” Then he waited, watching for a reaction.
“Sure,” the mayor said wearily, leaning against the brick fireplace.
Not that it mattered, considering Sharon Lamber had been dead for at least a week, if not two. “Go on, Mrs. Bearing,” he said.
She shook her head. “I arrived at the cabin, saw her car, and thought she’d just gotten lost in writing. I was so relieved to see her car.” She looked down at her cream-colored boots. “Then I went inside, didn’t see her, and kept looking. I found her on the outside porch.” Her voice broke at the end, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Who would do such a thing?”
The front door opened before they could answer, and two teenagers stomped inside, kicking off snow gear.
“Dad? I hope you’re finally happy. We finished shoveling out Mrs. McCloskly’s driveway, and she sent a casserole because of Aunt Sharon.” The first boy was a younger version of Steve Bearing, and the other had black hair, dark eyes, and a little pudge around his round face along with a slight belly. Was probably about to hit a growth spurt. They both paused at seeing Huck and Laurel.
“Come in.” The mayor gestured them inside. “This is our son Tommy and his friend Davie Tate.”
Both kids nodded.
Huck smiled. “Tommy? How well did you know your aunt?”
The kid shrugged, his sweatshirt moving over his wiry body. “Aunt Sharon was always around. She’s family.” He shifted the casserole dish in his hands. “Can I put this in the fridge?”
“Sure,” his mom said. “Thanks for finally doing that driveway.”
Tommy almost kept from rolling his eyes but not quite. Laurel had turned her head to view the kids. “Greenfield Architecture?” She read both of their worn sweatshirts. “You two work there?”
“Yeah,” Davie said, brushing snow off dark hair that reached his shoulders. “Old man Harvey hired us a few years back to pull weeds and shovel snow.” He sighed. “We’re gonna miss him.”
Huck’s eyebrow rose. “Miss him?”
“Yeah. He died of a massive heart attack last year,” Tommy said. “Like his entire heart just blew up.”
“Tommy,” his mother admonished. “Show respect.”
Tommy sobered but his eyes still gleamed. “Yeah, sorry. It’s kind of scary because he and Dad have the same cardiologist, right?”
The mayor sighed. “Right, and my heart is fine now, so stop worrying about it.”
Tommy shrugged. “Anyway, I guess Jason’s doing an okay job trying to take over.”
Davie snorted. “Yeah, but without Haylee, he’d be bankrupt.”
“You just like Haylee,” Tommy scoffed. “Older women for you, dude.”
“She’s like, I don’t know, twenty-two? Maybe? That’s not older. I’m seventeen,” Davie protested, his hands flexing.
Laurel craned her neck. “My uncle Blake mentioned your company to me when we were discussing turning a barn into a home. Are you taking new clients?”
Huck didn’t outwardly react, but it was an odd question from her at any time, much less during an interview.
Tommy shrugged. “No clue, but I know Jason needs money. Give him a call.” He studied her face. “Your eyes are very cool.” His buddy nodded.
“Thank you,” she said.
Davie smiled. “Are they your real eyes or contacts? Totally sick.”
“They’re mine,” she said. “Tommy? Are you dating Dr. Ortega’s niece?”
