“I’m fine.” Laurel looked down at Abigail’s hands, hoping to see rope burn. No burns or bruises were visible. “Was it you?”
Abigail backed up, blinking sleep from her eyes. “Was what me?”
“I’m not playing around. If it was you, we’re done. Not only are we done, but I’m going to spend every available second I have looking through CCTV, talking to neighbors, finding dog walkers and kids who’d snuck out of their homes, to catch you. You will regret this like nothing else in your entire life.” Laurel let her voice rise.
Abigail took a step back. “Threatening me should be your very last resort, sister.” Her eyes cleared and color slipped into her face. “I have no idea why you’re here at this ungodly hour, but whatever you think I did, you’re wrong.”
Laurel looked over to the kitchen, where several bottles of wine stood in the sink. Empty bottles. There was also evidence of a steak dinner with two plates in the overlarge sink. “Did you have a party?”
“No.” Abigail tightened her sash. “I think you should leave.”
Something was off. Laurel raised her voice. “Hello? Who is here? Show yourself.” Her gun was holstered at the back of her waist, and she unzipped her coat in case she needed to reach for it. “Now.”
Movement came and a man wearing only a blanket wrapped around his hips stumbled out of the bedroom area. “What is going on?” he groused.
Laurel reared back. “Officer Zello?”
Frank Zello paused and then looked from one woman to the other. “Ah, crap.” He scratched his neck and moved toward them, one hand keeping the blanket in place over his obviously nude body. “Hi, Agent Snow.”
Laurel stared at him and then looked more closely at her sister. That was whisker burn on Abigail’s chin. “Officer? Were you here all night?”
He yawned and then stretched, shaking his head as if to wake himself up. “Yes. Late dinner and then, ah, all night.” His gaze moved to Abigail and warmed. “A wonderful night.”
Laurel looked at the bottles. “Apparently you drank the wine cellar.”
Abigail chuckled. “We did have a nice, intimate little party, didn’t we, Frank?”
He grinned and then sobered upon catching Laurel’s expression. “We did.” He ground a palm into his left eye. “Too much of a party. My head is on fire.”
“How did this situation come about?” Laurel asked.
Abigail shrugged. “The kind officer kept performing drive-bys of my house as part of my protection detail, and I invited him in for dinner. One thing led to another. Several anothers.” Her chuckle was throaty.
Laurel turned to face the officer more fully. “Rachel Raprenzi was attacked last night.”
His eyebrow lifted. “The woman from the podcast? That’s too bad, but what does that have to do with us?”
“You drank a lot of wine. Can you verify that Abigail was with you all night?” Laurel asked.
His handlebar mustache twitched. “Of course. We were in bed all night.”
“But you were out, right? Slept like a baby?” Laurel pressed.
“Not that out,” he retorted, standing up straighter. “I’m a trained officer. If she’d left the bed, I would’ve known it. You can’t honestly be saying that Abigail went and attacked some reporter. That’s nuts.”
Laurel rezipped her coat. “Very well. Officer Zello, please report to my office to be interviewed at nineAMthis morning.” At that time, she’d hit him with the fact that she knew he’d slept with Sharon Lamber. So far, she could connect him to all the victims except Christine Franklin, and she hadn’t probed deeply yet.
Abigail opened the door, her full lips set in a smirk. “It’s always a pleasure, sister.”
Laurel left and arctic air froze her nose. As she was driving away, she called Huck and gave him an update.
“Well, that’s good, right? Abigail has an alibi, so she wasn’t the one who attacked Rachel.”
Laurel slowed down as her SUV slid on the ice. “It isn’t good. I have absolutely no doubt after seeing her this morning that Abigail was Rachel’s attacker.”
Without question.
Chapter Thirty
