Huck snickered, playing along. “Does that turn you soft, doc?”
The lawyer slapped his hand on the table. “We’re here voluntarily. Insult my client again, and we leave.”
Laurel pressed on. “So far, I have three dead in my case. You screwed one of them, and one of them screwed you over. Another, Dr. Charlene Rox, had privileges at your hospital, so no doubt you knew her.” She leaned toward him then, giving him the full force of the dual-colored eyes he found so fascinating. “Those three dead women share one basic commonality. You.”
“Can anybody verify you were at your cabin these last few days?” Huck asked.
“No.” The doctor didn’t look away from Laurel. “I was mourning in solitude. Didn’t even take my phone.”
Laurel tapped her fingers in a pattern on the glass top. “That’s odd, isn’t it? For anybody to leave their phone behind?”
“Not if one truly wants to unplug. You should try it, Agent Snow. My cabin is yours any time.” He rattled off the address. “I’m sure you’re already looking through my property records. You won’t find the cabin listed. The property was actually owned by my deceased aunt, and she left it to me in her will. I haven’t had time to record the deed.”
That was possible. “Do you know a Dr. Abigail Caine? She’s a professor.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “I need to be getting back to prepare for surgeries tomorrow.”
“Are you familiar with Davie Tate or Tommy Bearing?” Huck asked.
The doctor paused. “No to Tate, but I have met the mayor’s son. I had a patient named Harvey with a heart condition, and the Bearing kid drove him in for appointments once in a while. Seemed like a nice kid who worked for Harvey.”
Laurel tapped her fingers on the table. “You also treated Mayor Bearing, correct?”
Keyes smiled. “I can’t discuss living patients with you, Agent Snow. Confidentiality rules apply, as you know.”
“The mayor already confirmed this to us,” Laurel said, waving the thought away. “Yet I don’t want to know about him. I just want to know if his son, Tommy, ever accompanied him to his appointments with you. Hypothetically, of course.”
“No, he did not.” Keyes winked. “Hypothetically.”
“Thank you,” Laurel said. “I do need to ask you about the sexual harassment case you settled with your housekeeper.”
Keyes sighed. “She wanted money. There was no harassment, and a criminal case was dismissed. I gave her some money to go away, and it was a lot less than I would’ve spent in a lawsuit.”
“It was a nuisance payment,” the lawyer said smoothly.
That was entirely possible. “How much?” Huck asked.
The lawyer smiled. “That’s confidential.”
The doctor stood and his lawyer did the same. “Laurel, call me any time. I would very much like to help you find Sharon’s killer.” He walked out the door with his lawyer following him.
Huck watched them go. “What an ass.”
Laurel’s brain felt as if had been glued to her skull in a headache of decent proportions. “We have too many suspects.”
“All right. Here’s the deal. It has been hours since breakfast. Let’s go by the hospital to visit Walter and then grab dinner at Raspy’s. Their Friday night special usually involves prime rib, and I’m hungry. We can bring notepads and create a mobile murder board with lines and connections and questions. Deal?”
She reached for a couple of legal pads at the end of the table. “Deal. I would like to see Walter.” Plus, prime rib sounded good. She was missing a puzzle piece, something just out of her reach. Hopefully they could find it tonight.
* * *
After a dinner with too much cheesecake for dessert, Laurel sat back in Huck’s truck with the notepads held against her chest. “We didn’t narrow the suspect list.”
“We will.” He glanced her way as he drove through the fat snowflakes dropping on the windshield. Clouds covered the moon, and the night was quiet on the old country road that led away from the long-standing restaurant. They’d closed the place down, working diligently on their notes. “We just have to find him before he takes another woman.”
Several rapid shots boomed through the night. Bullets flew through the glass, and Huck jerked back with a pained snarl. A second later, the truck pitched and flew up into the air, hitting an embankment and rolling onto its top. Laurel’s seatbelt snapped tight against her chest, and her breath whooshed out of her lungs. Pain seared through her right arm and she cried out, hanging upside down in the hissing metal. Huck smashed into the side of the vehicle and then fell onto the interior of the roof. Metal crunched with the impact.
Then silence.
