Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
The doctor shook his head. “Still out. The prisoner punched him several times and then somehow acquired a vial of sedative. We’ve performed blood tests, but I don’t know which sedative was used yet. The officer’s breathing is strong, so he’s not in any danger, but it may take him awhile to wake up.”
Laurel nodded. “We’ll need to secure the CCTV from the hospital.”
“Nester’s already on it,” Huck said. “I called him while you were being examined.”
Nester served as the computer guru for Laurel’s team, the Pacific Northwest Violent Crimes Unit. “Good.”
Huck ran a hand through his hair. “You really think Abbott’s going to stay in the area, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said softly. “He’s been cooped up for too long. He’ll want to kill again soon.” Plus, he’d be very angry that he’d had to run when the nurse screamed and hadn’t gotten to take his revenge on Laurel. So he’d be both furious and desperate to show how much more brilliant he was than all of the women he hated.
She stepped down and reached for her coat. “We have work to accomplish.”
“I’m driving,” Huck said.
“You always drive,” she murmured, walking down the hallway and outside into a blistering wind.
“That I do,” Huck said, opening his truck’s passenger-side door for her.
Laurel climbed up into his truck and clipped her seat belt in place, her mind calculating details she’d memorized about Jason Abbott. Where would he stay? Where would he go? She had investigated him fully, and he didn’t own real property. He’d be hiding out somewhere he felt safe.
“I’ll need to interview Abigail. I’m certain he confided in her more than she admitted,” she said.
Huck grunted in response.
Dr. Abigail Caine had experimented on Jason Abbott, encouraging him to engage in violent fantasies that ultimately led to his kills.
Laurel glanced back to see the dog crate that usually held Aeneas, Huck’s Karelian Bear Dog. “Where’s the dog?”
“I left him at home,” Huck said. “He seemed content snoozing by the fire.”
They made the remaining drive in silence, and Laurel sighed, her eyes heavy. The doctor didn’t think she had a concussion, so she allowed herself to drop into a dreamless sleep. Jolting awake when Huck stopped the truck, she fumbled for her door to step out onto the crunchy ground and plod into his cabin.
“Are you hungry?” Huck asked, shutting the cottage door behind her.
“Not even remotely.” She headed into the bedroom, ditching her clothes and crawling into bed.
His chuckle followed her. “I’ll be with you in a little while.”
Later, she instinctively felt the heat when he slipped into the bed, and she rolled over to let herself be warmed. Just before midnight, his phone trilled, and his office called him out to investigate a poaching case.
She snuggled deeper into the warm bed, letting her body heal. He returned sometime later, pulling her close, reporting that he hadn’t found the poacher. Her dreams flashed a kaleidoscope of fist fights, chilly nights, dead women, and blistering storms. They both groaned when his phone alerted him again, and his office called him out to find a missing person. As an F&W captain, Huck normally took point on any search and rescue or poaching operation. He also served as the department’s diving expert.
He kissed her cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Two calls in one night? She blinked. “Maybe you should come work with the FBI. We get more sleep.”
His chuckle as he exited the room lightened her spirits, and she smiled, almost immediately dropping back into her dreams.
The buzzing of her phone jerked her awake early in the morning, and she lifted it to her ear, noting that Huck hadn’t returned yet. Then she took a quick moment to hope that Jason Abbott had been found.
“Agent Snow,” she whispered sleepily.
“Hey, boss,” Walter said, his voice somber. “We have a body.”
Chapter 2
The body lay yards from Iceberg River at the base of Snowblood Peak, face down, frozen to the unforgiving ground. Standing at the edge of the parking area, Laurel shivered and stared up at the mountainous peak with its jagged edges rising high into the fierce gray clouds. “We seem to have come full circle,” she murmured.
FBI agent Walter Smudgeon shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the body. “The way up and the way down are one and the same.”
Laurel looked over at her partner. “Heraclitus?”
Red tinged his broad cheeks. In his midfifties, he had intelligent hazel eyes and thinning gray hair that he’d lately begun to style with gel. “I’ve been reading a lot these days. Ena likes philosophy.”
Fascinating. Walter had been shot in an earlier case, and he’d decided to invest in a longer existence, exercising his wounded body to a healthy muscle mass, dedicating himself to a new romantic interest, and apparently studying philosophy. Ena was a Fish and Wildlife officer who worked under Huck, and Walter seemed to adore her.