“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Monty looked at the framed photo on his desk. “I guess when my sweet wife died, I just stopped meeting people. Dropped friends and only worked. This is all I have.”
Huck didn’t have any words of comfort.
Monty ran a hand through his rapidly thinning hair. “It’s nice having you here in the office. I know you’d rather be called in only when needed, but the office requires strong leadership, and I think you can provide that. You seem more comfortable these days.”
“I am.” Huck wasn’t certain he wanted to be more comfortable, but he did like most of the Fish and Wildlife officers, and they were a strong team. “Though I’m ready for you to be healthy again so you can take over.”
Monty’s smile looked more like a grimace. “Might take a while. I know we’re not friends, but—”
“We’re friends.” Huck couldn’t go through his entire life with just the dog as his friend. “I’m not a great friend, but I consider you one. If you need anything, I’m here. Just name it.”
“Okay. Don’t waste your life. That’s all I ask.” When Huck frowned, Monty held up a hand. “I’m just saying. Making friendships and connections matter, and perhaps it’s time for you to stop going it alone in the wilderness with the dog. It’s nice having you here in the office.”
Aeneas barked as if in agreement.
Huck frowned at the dog, whose tongue rolled out. “I’ll think about it. For now, I’ll call you if we find anything at the greenhouse, and please contact me if the BOLO produces any results for the heart surgeon. His phone was found in his office, but there hasn’t been any other trace of him, which I don’t like. Dr. Keyes has to be found.”
“You’ve got it. And say hi to Agent Snow for me,” Monty said. “Her mama brought me cookies earlier. She’s a sweetheart.”
“Bye.” Huck turned and walked by the rows of file cabinets and out the main entrance to the vestibule, where Laurel was just emerging from her stairwell. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She buttoned up her wool coat, her gaze sliding past his face to the outside door. “We need to get going.”
Huck opened the door for her, noting she didn’t meet his eyes. Great. Now what had he done? “I’m driving.”
“I assumed.” She jerked when he reached the passenger-side door first to open it. “Um, thanks.”
“Sure.” Amusement caught him unaware and he waited until she’d sat before shutting her door. How laconic had he been for her to be surprised to see him act as a gentleman? Though he’d never met his mother, his father had taught him better than that. Mostly. He settled the dog in his crate and then jumped inside the truck, starting the engine and letting the cab heat up. They were just a couple of miles away from the greenhouse when he broke the silence. “What’s bothering you?”
“Do you think I could be a psychopath?”
He blinked. Once and then again. Yeah, he’d been expecting a “nothing” or a “where are we going” or “last night was a mistake.” He should’ve known better. “No. Do you think you’re a psychopath?”
“No.” Her stiff shoulders softened. “I know I’m not.” Then she chewed on her lip. “Do you think most psychopaths know they’re psychopaths?”
“Hell if I know. That’s your field.” He glanced down at her, trying to track her thoughts. Nope. He had nothing. “Why are you worrying about this?”
She pulled off her black leather gloves. “Abigail dropped by to see me.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “All right. She got into your head.” That was not a good thing. “You let her into your head, Laurel. Why?”
“Because she zeroed in on my biggest fear. I am different and . . .” She looked out the window.
He couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to be so different from other people, then find out she had a sister just as unique, and then find out that sister was nuttier than a fucking fruitcake. “Well, considering I was inside you less than twenty-four hours ago, and that you were whispering my name in my ear as you came, I can promise that you are not a psychopath. You are warm and kind and a very safe place for a battered ex-soldier like me to land.” It wasn’t a love sonnet, but it was the best he could do. Plus, it was the truth.
“Oh.” Pink filtered across her face. “That’s sweet, Huck.”
“Take that back,” he said.
She chuckled. “I won’t tell anybody.”
“I appreciate that.” It was telling how much lighter his chest felt just because he’d made her laugh. “I don’t have any advice for you regarding Dr. Caine. The relationship between you is a battle of wits, and when it comes to the two of you, I’m unarmed.”
She laughed full out this time. “You’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for, I think. Notwithstanding your penchant for trusting ex-girlfriends who are journalists to play by the same rules you do.”
“Maybe.” He had good instincts and could figure out most people, but there was no way his IQ was the same number as Laurel’s. Of course, she’d once told him that an arbitrary number could never give a true measure of intelligence. That was a statement Abigail Caine would never have made. “You and your sister are as different as can be, regardless of hair and eye coloring. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Half sister,” Laurel retorted as he pulled to a stop in front of an expansive greenhouse. “Thanks, Huck.”
