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)
“Hi. It’s Sheriff York. Jason Abbott tried to break into Dr. Caine’s home an hour ago.”
“I’ve heard. Is there any chance you traced his movements?”
York coughed. “No.”
Wonderful.
* * *
After a full day of searching fruitlessly for Jason Abbott, Laurel wished she’d gone on vacation with Walter. He’d texted twice with pictures of Ena drinking fruity cocktails by the beach. She was happy for him. Also a little envious.
With snow once again falling lazily outside in the darkness, Laurel sat on Huck’s sofa and stared at the crackling fire. They’d picked up deli sandwiches on the way to his cabin after work. She blew on her tea, both hands around the mug, as Huck shoveled the driveway outside in the snow.
The puzzle of why Abigail would want Jason Abbott free led to one conclusion. She wanted to kill him.
Why?
What did he still know about Abigail that he hadn’t already shared with Laurel and Huck? Or even with his attorney in an attempt to gain him favor with the court?
Her phone buzzed, and she jolted before grasping it. “Agent Snow.”
“Hi, Laurel. It’s Pedro. I’m sorry it has taken me so long to return your call. There was a terrible nightclub fire that has us all working overtime.”
“Dr. Ortega. Thank you for returning my phone call. I’m sorry the nightclub fire took so many lives.” She’d dealt with burned bodies before, and the smell never quite left. “I wanted to check on the victim from Iceberg River.”
He coughed. “Sorry to cough at you. We’re all fighting something here. I hope to get to your victim tomorrow or the next day, and I did receive the DNA sample from Captain Rivers.”
Anticipation licked through her. “And?”
“It’s in line along with the rest of the samples. I hope my lab is able to get to it soon.” He came across muffled for a moment. “I apologize, but I need to get back to work. We’ll talk soon.”
“Of course. Thank you.” She clicked off the line. So much for gleaning answers for either case. The fire shifted its color but failed to provide clarity. She dozed off until Huck and Aeneas entered the one-bedroom cabin, both shaking off snow.
She forced herself to awaken. “It appears to be snowing even harder than earlier.” The local meteorologists had been largely mistaken about the weather that week.
“Yeah.” Huck removed his boots and hung up his heavy jacket as Aeneas ran into the kitchen and started eating out of his dog bowl.
Huck padded over in his worn white socks with a hole in the right one. He sat next to her on the sofa and extended his jean-clad legs, crossing his ankles on the sofa table and pushing magazines out of his way. “What a night.”
She leaned into him, careful of her tea. “Heavier snowfall is expected?”
“Looks like it. Windy night, too.”
Laurel stared into the flames, her mind unsettled.
He tugged on her hair. “What’s going on in that big brain?”
“My brain is of normal size,” she said quietly. “I’m attempting to uncover Abigail’s motivations. Why she’d want Jason Abbott out of prison.”
“Huh. Sounds like a waste of time to me. Her motivations lack logic, and you’re all logic.”
She jerked and then settled. “I see.”
“Hey.” He turned his head to study her. “I said something wrong. What was it?”
How did he do that? She wasn’t even looking at him. “The logic. That’s not how you raise a baby. They need love. Hearts and kisses and whimsy.”
His dark eyebrows rose, but he remained silent for several beats. “The heart is an organ, correct?”
She frowned. “Of course it is.”
“Then how can love, an actual emotion, truly come from an organ in the middle of our chests?” He settled more comfortably against the sofa, still holding her close.
“I don’t know.”
He chuckled. “That’s a statement I don’t hear from you very often. If love or emotion doesn’t come from the middle of our chests, why can’t it come from our brains? There’s a lot about the brain that we don’t understand, right?”
“That’s true,” she whispered.
“So maybe those big thoughts you have are love. The way you love.”
She blinked. That made sense.
“Perhaps you use more of your brain than others, or maybe your brain is just more efficient. Either way, doesn’t that mean you’ll be able to love better than most people?” He wriggled his toes toward the roaring fire, no doubt warming them. “So give yourself a break and stop worrying about it. You will love this baby exactly as he or she needs to be loved, and you’re going to be a great mom. I promise.”
There was no actual way he could make that promise, yet somehow his statement did make her feel better. “You’re eminently likeable,” she murmured.
“Yeah?” He grasped her waist and lifted her, easily planting her on his lap.
His casual strength stopped her breath in her lungs. Her body was reacting naturally to an obvious overture from a strong and capable male, yet he affected her heart, too. That little organ that shouldn’t feel anything. She leaned in and kissed him, enjoying the way his fingers flexed on her hips. “I like your strength, as well.”