“Hello, dear sister. How are you?”
Laurel looked at the darkness outside. “Abigail. I called you earlier but only reached your voicemail.”
“I’ve been busy,” Abigail said. “I do have a life outside of you. I still teach at the college, you know.”
It was unfortunate the job didn’t keep Abigail busy enough. “So you were grading papers?”
“That I was. Today’s youth just aren’t as smart as we were. Have you noticed that?”
Laurel didn’t have time for this. “Have you shot a sniper rifle lately?”
Abigail burst out laughing. “A sniper rifle? No, that’s not something I have ever done. Why, do you want to take sniper lessons together?”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “No. Where is Jason Abbott right now?”
“Hell if I know,” Abigail said. “I wish you’d go ahead and catch him because I’m tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. You know he’s going to come for me.”
Laurel wiggled her toes in front of the blissful fire. “Yes, I believe he wants to harm you. Probably both of us, but you first.” It made sense. The woman had experimented on Abbott, and he blamed her for his problems. “Did you know he kept journals?”
Abigail fell silent for a moment. “No. What kind of journals?”
Her voice held a different note, but Laurel couldn’t read it. Was that concern or hesitation?
“Journals all about your time with him,” Laurel guessed. Or maybe he’d detailed his killings. They must hold important information, or he wouldn’t have risked the wrath of the FBI to steal them back.
Abigail cleared her throat. “I did not know that Jason kept journals, but I sure would like to read them. Do you know where they are?”
“I do know where they are,” Laurel said. “There is no way I’ll allow you to read them.” She figured Jason Abbott had them, so she was telling the truth. She did know who had the journals, and hopefully he was too arrogant to destroy them. No doubt he’d spent a lot of time detailing his kills so he could go back and relive them by reading through his diaries.
“Now, Laurel, I would very much like to read these journals. Perhaps I can help you decipher what was going on in Jason’s head during these last difficult months.”
How unnerving the existence of the journals must be to Abigail. What exactly had she done to Jason during those experiments? “I don’t think so,” Laurel said as Huck crossed around and handed her a bowl of ice cream.
Was Abigail playing some sick game? She could’ve been the sniper, which meant she already knew about the journals. Yet, did that track? Laurel’s temples ached.
“Aeneas, down,” Huck ordered. The dog looked at him but obeyed, slinking over to flop down on half of his bed. Fred looked at him and struck out with a paw. Aeneas ignored the cat and shut his eyes.
Laurel looked down at her ice cream. “When was the last time you spoke with Jason Abbott?” she asked Abigail.
“You already know the answer to that. I visited him in jail, hoping to help your case. Now I’m done talking about Abbott.” The sound of Abigail drinking something came over the line, most likely a cabernet of very good vintage. “I heard on the news that Haylee Johnson was killed by the river, just like the first still-unidentified victim and that insipid Teri Bearing. Is it true?”
“Yes,” Laurel said. “We found her body yesterday.”
Abigail chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way to end a lawsuit.”
Laurel jolted. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Laurel. That twit was suing us, and now the lawsuit will go away. I’d say it was a good day for us, don’t you think?”
Laurel placed the bowl of ice cream on the table next to the end of the sofa, feeling ill. “No, I don’t think it was a good thing, Abigail.”
“Well, tomato, tomaaaato. Have a lovely evening, sister. I hope we can get together soon.” Abigail ended the call.
Laurel looked at her phone and shook her head.
“What?” Huck asked.
“Perhaps evil actually does exist,” she murmured.
