“I’m sure it amused you,” Laurel murmured, studying the woman who looked so much like her.
One of Abigail’s brows arched. “Being interviewed?”
“Yes, by the woman you once attacked and threatened to kill.” Laurel couldn’t prove it, but she knew that Abigail had done so a while back just to mess with one of Laurel’s cases. “She has no clue, does she?”
Abigail smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She brushed invisible lint off her pressed pants. “She is a twit, though, don’t you think? Much better suited to the mouth breather you’re dating than are you. They probably made a fine couple. I mean, if she wasn’t such a useless bitch.”
Laurel rolled her neck, really wanting to rip off her sweater and then the damn vest. “I had a run-in with your attorney today.”
Abigail pursed her lips. “That’s interesting. Tell me more.”
So he hadn’t cleared his plan with his client. “How do you do it?” Laurel stretched out her legs beneath the desk.
“Do what?”
How did she even ask? Why would she? “Get these men so devoted to you? To believing what you say instead of what the evidence shows? Get them so inspired?”
“Oh. That.” Abigail waved a hand in the air, showing newly painted red nails. “Men are easy. The key is making them think everything is their idea.”
All right. “How long do you plan to dangle Agent Norrs on the hook?” She liked the metaphor but not the reality.
Abigail’s eyes widened. “On the hook? But I love him, Laurel. He’s so big and strong.” She wrinkled her nose. “He keeps me safe, you know? Just like your Huck does for you. We really should double-date once in a while. I mean, after this whole murder charge goes away.” Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “We’re so much alike, you and me. Both dating tough, by-the-book badasses. Right?”
Except Laurel truly cared for Huck. Abigail only cared for herself. “Do you ever wonder about it?” she mused.
Abigail’s gaze sharpened. “Wonder about what?”
“What the rest of us actually feel. You mimic emotions but don’t truly feel them. Are you curious?” She couldn’t help but be intrigued.
“That’s just mean.” Abigail pouted. “I feel everything. More than you could even imagine.”
Perhaps. Not love or empathy, but definitely something. Laurel shrugged. “Agent Norrs is a good man, I believe. Stop using him.” But he would certainly help with Abigail’s trial.
Abigail flashed her left hand with a two-carat diamond solitaire. “But we’re engaged. He went all out. Isn’t it pretty?”
Laurel lifted her chin. “He’s not like the others you’ve manipulated. When you dump him, he’ll be angry.”
Abigail laughed now. “They all get angry. Men are barely a step up from children. Please, Laurel. I do know what I’m doing.” She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially low. “As do you. Nice move getting your mother out of the country on a long vacation. My attorney would’ve eviscerated her on the stand.”
Laurel kept her emotions under control, slowly placing her phone on the desk and then pulling a notebook and pen toward her. She pressed the recording button. “Interview with Dr. Abigail Caine.” She gave the time and date.
Abigail’s lips twitched. “What are you doing?”
Laurel lowered her chin. “Dr. Caine, you alleged onThe Killing HourSaturday night that you have pertinent information regarding a trafficking ring here in Washington State. How did you come by such information?”
Realization dawned across Abigail’s face and her cheek creased. “My fiancé should be here in a few moments to pick me up. Stop being silly.”
Laurel angled her head to the side to call down the hallway. “Nester? I need you to prepare an emergency warrant for us to hold and secure Dr. Caine as a material witness. Please do so now.”
Abigail’s chin slowly lowered, and her eyes gleamed. “You’re making a mistake.”
Laurel kept her expression blank. “Dr. Caine, you said you have information. Either you lied on the podcast, or you need to start talking now. Who is Joley McNalley?”
“All right.” Abigail crossed her legs. “She’s a girl our father said he had secured somewhere, and when I arrived at his motel room, he said she’d died weeks ago from an overdose. He would not tell me where her body lay, so I have no idea.”
“You gave a list to Rachel Raprenzi during the podcast. What was on it?” Laurel asked.
Abigail lifted a shoulder. “It was a list of missing teenagers from the Seattle area that I found online. I’m not an investigator like you, but I felt like I should at least perform a Google Search.”
