Abigail blinked. “I work at a university in a field mostly inhabited by men. I’m intelligent and beautiful while seemingly aloof, when actually I’m just bored by most people. They don’t know that. The list would be too long to be useful.”
There was a lot of truth in that statement. “I can put you in an FBI safe house if you want,” Laurel said, needing to distance herself from this woman. “If not, I can ask the local police force to keep an eye on your house, but I doubt they have the manpower to put protection on you full time.”
“What has happened?” Abigail asked.
“I can’t discuss it yet,” Laurel said. “What’s it to be?”
Abigail shook her head. “How about you stay here?”
“No.”
Abigail sighed, her eyes widening and her jaw slackening. “But I need help. You’re trained. I’m scared.”
“No, you’re not,” Laurel murmured.
Abigail lost the fake vulnerable look. “No, I’m not. But most people would be, and you have a duty to protect me. Not only because of your job but because I protected you once. Against my own brother, no less.”
Yes, Abigail had killed her brother to protect Laurel. While Laurel appreciated being alive, her sister seemed to have a secondary motive for every action. “I’ve offered you protection. Say the word, and I’ll secure you at a safe house in Seattle.” It would only be a couple hours away, so Laurel could still reach her if necessary.
“So I’m in certain danger,” Abigail mused. “Interesting. You’ve seen this before. Women stalked or women killed?”
Laurel stood. “Safe house?”
“No.”
Laurel wasn’t surprised. “Very well. I’ll ask the locals to keep an eye on the subdivision. Please contact me when you have that list, and make sure you engage your alarm system at all times, even when you’re at home.” She paused. “Why were you on a week’s retreat? Didn’t you have classes to teach at the university?” Abigail taught several science classes at the premiere institution.
“Yes, but I took this week off.” Abigail also stood. “My vacation was scheduled, and I had my students working on either labs or papers all week.”
“Where did you go?”
Abigail lifted one eyebrow. “You know where I went. I invited you.”
“Oh.” Laurel would have to look back through the texts from her sister. She hadn’t opened many of them. She padded in her thick socks to the door and slipped her feet into her snow boots.
“I find your lack of interest in our sisterhood rather insulting.” Abigail fetched Laurel’s coat from the closet and held it open. Her tone held a hint of warning.
Laurel had no choice but to slip her arms into the sleeves and allow Abigail to assist her. “I have no desire to insult you.” She turned toward her sister and zipped up her thick parka.
“You just don’t want me involved in your down-home Hallmark movie of a life?” Real emotion flashed in her eyes this time.
Laurel sighed. “My life isn’t perfect, and I don’t know you. What we share isn’t good.”
Abigail grimaced. “Our asshole of a father who’s been missing for years? You’ve never even met him. You only know he’s a reprobate because of what you’ve been told by me and probably by your mother. We don’t share him. Only I knew him, and I’ll take that burden for us both. We’re our own people, Laurel, but I am your sister.”
Laurel reached in her pocket for her phone, a lump in her stomach that made her want to gag. “I can’t prove it, but I know you tried to cover your brother’s crimes before you realized we were half sisters. I’m an FBI agent, Abigail.” She opened the outside door and stepped into the protection provided by the eaves before turning to face her sister.
Abigail was several inches taller, even in her bare feet. “I did not help him. If I did anything that assisted Robert with his heinous murders, then I’m very sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Laurel murmured.
Abigail’s nostrils flared. “No, I’m not. But since I didn’t do anything to help my brother, you must let this go. Besides, what would you do to protectyourmother? Your Zen-loving, peaceful, flighty mother?”
“Good-bye, Abigail.” Laurel turned and walked carefully down the walkway, pausing to snap several photographs of the lawn and mostly buried flowers before returning to her vehicle. Once inside, she dialed Captain Monty Buckley’s number.
“Buckley,” he answered over the sound of a printer grinding in the background.
“Hi, Captain,” Laurel said, watching Abigail watch her from the open doorway. “Did you get jurisdiction settled?” They’d reached an agreement easily at the scene by the river, but it still had to be approved.
