“Yes.” Her tone was curt.
He handed her the chai latte. “I want to explain about Saturday night.” Although he didn’t owe her an explanation.
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” She kept her gaze on the pictures and picked up the latte. “It’s not right, is it?”
He looked at the board. “None of this is right.”
“We don’t have enough.” She sighed. Today she wore black slacks and sweater over a white button-down shirt, looking professional and smart. Her earrings were blue butterflies, though.
“Nice earrings.” Why did he even notice something like that? He took a gulp of his triple cappuccino.
She didn’t smile. “Thank you. My mother gave them to me. They’re supposed to create light and protection.”
Of course they were. “I met with Rachel because she had information on the case. Her source told her that Sharon Lamber was having an affair—quite possibly with her brother-in-law. Our good ole mayor.”
Laurel sipped her drink. “I’m surprised you’d trust Rachel again after she used the tragedy of that drowned child and your breakdown to further her career.”
The statement felt like a punch to the balls. “I don’t trust her, but I will use her to get information.”
Laurel looked up, her unusual eyes veiled. “Then how did she gain the information for her podcast?”
“I had to give her something,” he said, his temper stirring. “Is this a thing? I mean, you’re jealous of my ex?” Even as he said the words, he knew he was making a colossal mistake, but anger still ticked through him.
Laurel blinked. “Jealous? No. But I think you’re showing a lack of judgment to give a hungry reporter anything, and maybe your emotions overruled your mind.”
Irritation blew right to anger. “Enough. I don’t need your opinion on either my personal or my professional life. Let’s stick with the case.”
“Very well.” Laurel flipped open a file folder next to her to reveal the police reports filed by Charlene Rox. “So Dr. Rox reported several hang-ups from untraceable phones. Threats were written in the snow on her car, and she was sure somebody had broken into her house and taken a pair of panties.”
He struggled to focus on the case and not pursue the fight he felt coming. “If both Charlene and Sharon thought lingerie had been taken and somebody had broken into their homes, then he wasn’t hiding his activities.”
“No. He wanted to scare them. It’s part of the thrill for him.” She closed the file. “Dr. Ortega called and said the cause of death for Sharon Lamber was blunt force trauma, and there were signs of sexual assault but no semen. Same as Charlene Rox. Also, he lists time of death for Sharon Lamber at approximately two weeks ago, most likely Saturday or Sunday, but he can’t be certain. The fact that the body was frozen actually helped him narrow it down.”
Huck looked at the faces on the board. Ones he couldn’t save. “Sharon first and then Charlene, but we found them in opposite order. Sharon and Charlene, both doctors. Their names sound alike?”
“Yes, but if you factor in Abigail, her name sounds dissimilar.” Laurel tapped her fingers on the table in a soft pattern. “Although we should look at the case with her both factored in and out. Just so we don’t miss anything.”
Was there judgment in that tone, as if he’d missed something? He ignored the possibility and focused again. If anybody could hack their investigation, no matter how impossible it seemed, it’d be Abigail Caine. “Agreed.”
“Our warrants for the victims’ phone dumps were approved.” Nester popped into the conference room, papers in his hand. “The application for a warrant to unseal Tommy Bearing’s juvenile record was denied. Judge said we didn’t have enough probable cause.”
“We don’t, but it was worth a try,” Laurel muttered. “When will we receive the cell phone extracts?”
“Techs in DC said the phone dumps will take time. We’re behind several other requests.” Nester slid out of sight.
Huck pivoted. “How about we go interview Morris Lamber about his dead wife? I have Monty reaching out and getting us an appointment.” He studied the board, needing to get out of the small space. “You really think these are possible suspects?”
“Everyone is a possible suspect.” She stood and fetched a green wool coat off the nearest chair. “I’d like for you to take the lead with Abigail.” A light blush suffused her high cheekbones.
“Why?” Curiosity had him halting.
Her gaze slid to the doorway. “I think Abigail is in danger, and if you ask her to go to a safe house, she might do so in an effort to impress you. Or perhaps manipulate you. Either way, she’d be in a safe house.”
“I doubt it, but I’ll try. For my job. Showing good judgment.” Huck didn’t think Abigail would let herself be hidden away, but she was probably in danger, so he’d make the effort. “I’ll call her on the way to see Morris.”
“No.” Laurel frowned. “You should call her when I’m not around. Why don’t you go to your office and make the call, and then we can meet outside at your truck in fifteen minutes?” She angled her head to look past him to the computer room. “I need to speak with Nester. We should obtain the guest list from that Tempest Ranch charity auction that keeps coming up.”
She paused. “Since you’re seeing your ex-fiancée again, do you think she would give us her source? If we have proof, any proof, that the mayor was having an affair with his sister-in-law, we might be able to get a warrant for his home.”
