“Hi. This is Laurel Snow, and I’m interested in converting an old barn into a home. Your business has been recommended to me.” She tapped her fingers on her leg.
“Oh. We don’t usually have architecture calls during the winter, but it’s smart to get ahead on drawing up plans. Let’s see. How about you give me the address, and we can see you as early as tomorrow, if you’d like.” Papers rustled. “Go ahead and let me know what time you’d like to meet up. We prefer to see the site before sitting down and discussing plans.”
Laurel rattled off the address. The company must be looking for work if they were willing to meet on a Sunday. Good. She’d love to have the place ready by spring, either for herself or to rent. “I am free around noon.”
“Sounds good. See you then.” Haylee ended the call.
Excellent. Laurel could already see the dimensions of a potential home office in her head.
Huck drove through the rapidly darkening day as the purplish clouds rolled over the mountains and covered them. “That was odd.”
Laurel set her phone in her pocket. “How so?”
“You. I figured you’d want to interview five architecture firms, pare them down to three, and then make a decision based on house plans.”
She pulled the seatbelt off her neck. “You’re not wrong. That’s normally how I’d conduct this. However, I’d like to spend some time with Tommy Bearing, and hiring Greenfield is an easy way to do that.”
Huck cut her a look. “For the case. That’s smart.”
“Yes, for the case.” She tugged her jacket more closely around her body. “Also, I’m trying to be a good friend.” She peered at him across the cab. “We’re friends, and I figure we’re friends with Dr. Ortega. Or just friendly.” She tapped a bit of snow off her left boot. “Or colleagues who look out for each other. I’m uncertain.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Her stomach rumbled; she’d had nothing but coffee all day. “Dr. Ortega expressed concern to me about his niece dating Tommy Bearing, and I thought I could get to know him a little better during this process.” In fact, she could probably conduct background checks on all of the Bearing men as part of the case.
“So that’s why Ortega wanted to speak to you alone the other day? He wanted your take on his niece’s guy?” Huck frowned. “I’m not sure that’s cool.”
“Probably not, but as neither of us are raising teenagers, I’m choosing not to judge.” She watched an older truck slide on the road ahead of them and held her breath until the driver regained control and slowed down. “Dr. Ortega mentioned that Tommy has a juvenile record that might include vandalism and voyeurism.”
Huck pursed his lips. “Interesting. Isn’t voyeurism one of those precursor crimes you FBI behavior science gurus look to in determining future sex crimes?”
“Yes.” Not exactly but close enough. “We should investigate Tommy and see if he has any connection to Dr. Rox or Abigail.” To rule the young man out, if nothing else.
“Hmm. The kid looks to be in shape and could make the trek through the woods to Witch Creek, and I suppose with enough rage, he could cause the injuries to the victims that we’ve seen.” Huck drove around the slow-moving truck, his hands sure on the steering wheel. “But where would a kid that age find black dahlia flowers this time of year?”
“That’s a crucial question. You have people researching that, correct?”
Huck nodded. “I think that’s the key. If somebody has ordered all of those flowers, we should be able to track the financial records.” He pulled into their office parking lot and rolled to a stop next to her SUV. “I have officers searching for in-state greenhouses that sell dahlias as well. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Laurel sighed. “When do we ever get lucky?”
“Good point.”
* * *
This was a mistake. Huck knew it the second he sat down at the table with Rachel across from him while soft music played in the background. He’d tried to choose a neutral place, but Alberto’s on the River apparently went for romance on Saturday nights. The lights were dim, the candles lit, and the wine flowing.
Rachel smiled. “Shall we order wine?”
“No.” The waiter sidled to the side of their table, and Huck ordered a beer. Rachel ordered wine, and then they both ordered the special, which was chicken piccata.
Rachel’s blond hair had grown even longer, and she looked pretty in a bright red dress with a tie at the side. “Reminds me of old times.”
He munched on a breadstick. “What do you have for my case? You said you had some information.”
She rolled her eyes, her blue gaze sparkling in the candlelight. “You never were much for foreplay.”
He nearly choked on the bread. That wasn’t true. He could remember spending hours one night just kissing her. Why did that seem so long ago? Like decades instead of just years. There was no way he was going to rise to that bait, so he finished chewing and swallowed. “Let’s keep it professional.” Although the ambiance of the place wasn’t helping any.
