“We need to get those juvenile records,” Huck murmured.
They still didn’t have enough for a warrant. “I have an idea for another source of information,” Laurel said. “I’ll call Kate later tonight and see if she can help. It’s a long shot, but we’ll see.”
Chapter Sixteen
Laurel finished the dishes after eating dinner with her mother and then joined her in the knitting room, where she sat and let her hands go to work. Her knitting foundation, which supplied booties and hats for premature newborns, was running smoothly, and she’d turned over the finances to a firm in New York. It took her a moment to realize her mother hadn’t spoken much during dinner. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Deidre started knitting and didn’t elaborate.
That was odd. While Laurel rarely caught social cues, her mother was not acting as she normally did. “Mom? Is something wrong?”
Deidre paused. “I don’t know.”
Laurel slowed the movement of her knitting needles. “What don’t you know?”
“It’s all so silly. Lately I’ve just felt like somebody is watching me. Today I ran into town because Taber’s was supposed to receive a new shipment of yarn, and I could swear I saw somebody take my picture across the street. There was a flash.”
Laurel stopped completely. “Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Has anything else happened? Any phone calls or anything like that?”
Deidre sighed. “No. Nothing. It’s just a feeling, really. The flash could’ve been anything, but again, it seemed like somebody was watching me in the store and then again later when I grabbed a sandwich from the new deli down the street. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Laurel searched for soothing words. Her mother’s perennial anxiety was so much better lately, but there was a killer stalking the women of Genesis Valley. Deidre didn’t fit the profile, though. “Feelings like that are often intuition based on experience. Let’s pay attention, okay?”
“Okay.”
Laurel made a mental note to keep an eye on the farm. Her phone dinged and she dropped the knitting needles to read the screen.
Her mom started again to knit a light yellow baby’s hat. “Anything interesting?”
“Yes.” Laurel scrolled through. “Haylee Johnson sent me a contract and requested a retainer. Seems a reasonable amount.”
Deidre’s needles clacked together rhythmically. “I love the idea of living in an old barn. What a marvelous concept. Plus, if you stay here, you’ll be close to me.” Her eyes were gentle in the evening light.
Laurel quickly read the contract, which was fairly standard, then signed it with DocuSign. “I’m looking forward to the process. Uncle Blake said he’d help with construction, and I’d like to do some of the work myself.” She would take the retainer check by the architectural office after school the following day and perhaps get a chance to talk to the younger Bearing boy again.
Deidre nodded. “That’s lovely. Actually creating a home for yourself. I mean, if you stay. Or even if you just use it when you visit.” She kicked out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. Her thick blue socks looked fuzzy and warm. “I bet Kate and her girls would love to help with the demolition. Sometimes it’s fun to plow a sledgehammer into a wall.”
Laurel resumed knitting. That was true. She looked once again at her calm and gentle mother, whose voice was soft even when she was nervous. Who would Laurel be if she’d been raised by somebody else? Somebody cold and unaccepting. Would she be like Abigail? Were her still-fledgling interpersonal skills as developed as they were because of her mother’s love? Most likely. “That reminds me.” She hit a preprogramed number.
“I am not coming in tonight,” Kate said by way of answer as Jon Bon Jovi blared in the background. “Neither should you. Even your big brain needs a break.”
Laurel chuckled. “I am taking a break, but I had a thought, if you wouldn’t mind. Would you ask your girls if they’ve heard any rumors about Tommy Bearing, the mayor’s kid? I think he’s either a junior or a senior at the high school, and you know how rumors abound in institutional settings. He has a juvenile record I can’t get to as of yet, and I figured local gossip might help.”
“Livin’ on a Prayer” faded away—Kate must’ve turned down the volume. “Oh, the girls will love it. Like they’re investigative agents.”
“No.” Laurel shook her head. “Nothing like that. Just see if they’ve heard anything—that’s all.”
“Sure. They’re all at different events right now, ranging from cheerleading to orchestra practice, but after they’re home, I’ll get them on the case.” She sneezed. “Excuse me.”
“Bless you,” Laurel murmured.
Kate coughed. “If Walter gave me a cold, I’m going to kick his butt.”
Hopefully the agent was feeling better, because Laurel needed him on legwork for this case. “Take some vitamin C, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Kate.” Laurel ended the call.
