Laurel turned and made her way along the freshly plowed driveway to the walk, meeting her half sister at the porch.
Abigail partly blocked the way inside, her head cocked, her eyes—one green, one blue—scrutinizing Laurel. “I swear, it’s like looking in a mirror. Don’t you think?”
Laurel shook her head. “No. We both have reddish hair and different-colored eyes, but our bone structure is different, as is our skin tone.” Well, at least to somebody who’d seen the same face in the mirror for almost three decades. To anybody else, they might look like twins. But she wouldn’t admit that to Abigail. She couldn’t.
Abigail scoffed and pulled Laurel inside the home, where starkness reined in opposition to the warmth blowing through the space. The surfaces were hard concrete or stone, and all white or a light gray. Even the pillows on the new black leather sofa were a glaring white. Her original sofa had been barraged by bullets during the Snowblood Peak case. “We have more than red hair in common and you know it. Genuine red hair is found in only ten percent of the population, and ours is auburn. A true auburn with brown and red. What percentage has that color?”
“Minuscule,” Laurel agreed, brushing snow off her unfortunately rare hair color. She shrugged out of her coat and let Abigail hang it in the nearby closet before kicking off her boots on a mat near the door. “I’m not saying we lack rare genes.” Considering they had the exact same heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one green, and a burst of green in the blue one, they were definitely unusual, which was a much nicer description than what she’d been called many a time by a cruel classmate or two.
Of course, that had been back when she was growing up and didn’t know Abigail or even that she had a half sister. The truth had emerged during Laurel’s first case in Genesis Valley, when she’d been shocked to discover she had a half sister from a father she’d never known. Her mother had always refused to give Laurel the name of her father. Her mom had been underage and her father a pastor at the church, and there was no consent. Her mother still had nightmares about it. “Tell me about the flowers on your front lawn.”
Abigail gestured to the high-end leather sofa fronting a gas fireplace. “I’ll ignite this. You must be chilly.” She hustled over and flicked on a button, roaring the fire to life.
Laurel sat, even though she would’ve preferred to talk at the dining table or even the bar separating the kitchen from the great room. This was too casual. She glanced at the rear wide floor-to-ceiling windows, seeing the jagged, snow-covered mountains in the distance. Those windows lacked any covering, perfectly framing the freezing world outside. “The dahlias?” she prodded.
Abigail paused. “Could I get you anything to drink? How about coffee with a splash of Baileys? You look positively frigid.”
“I’m fine.” Laurel gestured to the matching leather chair. “This is official business, Abigail. I need to know everything about those flowers and now.”
Abigail rolled her eyes and took the chair, sitting gracefully in it with the mountains behind her. The weak light poured inside the windows, caressing her reddish-brown hair, which she’d bluntly cut to fall at her shoulders, just like Laurel’s. Her features were delicate and her skin more cream than peaches, making her unique eyes stand out even more. Today she wore black slacks and a green sweater that probably cost as much as Laurel’s entire wardrobe. “I returned late last night from a retreat, didn’t see the flowers, and only noticed them when I woke up. They’ve obviously been there for days.”
Laurel sat back and watched for any nuances in Abigail’s expression. She had an eidetic memory and didn’t need to take notes, but she would write down the entire conversation later. “Your neighbor’s house looks vacant. Any chance they saw anything?”
“No.” Abigail studied Laurel as intensely as she was being studied. “The Northertons are snowbirds. They move to Arizona in October and don’t return until May or June. Like most people around here.”
“Are they retired?” Laurel asked.
“Yes. He worked in Silicon Valley and she owns a chain of eye clinics across the country. They retired here three years ago because their children, two of them, live in Genesis Valley. They see the kids here in the summer and then have them all visit Arizona in the winter.” Abigail picked a piece of lint off her dark pants. “How predictable, right?”
“That life might sound ideal to many people,” Laurel murmured. “Why would anybody leave flowers scattered over your lawn?”
Abigail threw up her hands. She wore silver rings on both, one with a stunning ruby in the center. “I don’t know. Black dahlias, as I’m sure you’re aware, symbolize betrayal.”
“Who have you betrayed?”
Abigail stilled. “I’d watch my tone, were I you, sister.” Her warning held a muted British accent left over from attending school for years in Great Britain.
“Why is that?” Laurel asked, keeping her tone mild.
“You really do not want to hurt my feelings.” Abigail leaned forward. “Speaking of feelings, how is our Captain Huck Rivers?”
Huck had worked on the case that revealed Abigail’s half brother, not related to Laurel, had been a serial killer in the area, one Abigail had killed to protect Laurel. Her brother had murdered young blondes and thrown them off Snowblood Peak to the valley below, and concurrent jurisdiction had worked for both agencies. “I have no idea,” Laurel said.
Abigail smiled, flashing white teeth. “Oh, sister. We both know you and that mouth-breathing hottie with the hard ass rolled around in the sheets last year, as they say. Surely you’ve kept in touch.”
“Who thinks you betrayed them, Abigail? This isn’t a joke—you might be in danger.”
Abigail stared at her, brilliance shining in her eyes. “You have ignored all of my calls and texts since my brother’s funeral, which you were kind enough to attend before the holidays. I’m rather astounded you’re taking this seriously. That you don’t think I threw flowers and petals all over my lawn to gain attention from you. Why is that, Laurel?”
“I can’t discuss that with you. Now, either you cooperate with me, or I will send somebody else to take your statement.” Laurel pushed her damp hair off her shoulder.
Abigail’s chin lowered a fraction. “Fine. I haven’t betrayed anybody. In addition, I checked the cameras and have downloaded the applicable video for you. He walked down my driveway, which explains how he gained entrance beyond the gate to the subdivision. He couldn’t have driven. It was a dark night with plenty of snowfall, and it’s impossible to see his features, probably because he’s wearing a damn mask. The figure looks like a man, though.” She reached into her pants pocket and drew out a USB. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Laurel accepted the drive. “Have there been any other signs that somebody wants to frighten you? Any letters, calls, strange occurrences?”
“No. Nothing, and you know I’d remember if there were,” Abigail said. “Why are you taking this so seriously?”
Laurel twisted the thumb drive in her hand. She didn’t even have a description of the dead woman in the woods because her face had been destroyed. There was also no way Abigail could’ve known about the victim, because the body had just been discovered this morning. Plus, the flowers on her lawn had been left before the victim had been killed. “You may be in danger. I can’t tell you anything more than that right now, but you need to be careful, and you need to start compiling a list of anybody who’d want to hurt you. Anybody who might feel betrayed by you, or anybody who has been too present in your life, too interested in you.”
