“I’m still here,” George groused.
Laurel took Eleanor up to the counter, where a handsome man in his thirties typed into the computer. “This is Eleanor, and this is her plane. She’s going to sit right over here, and she needs extra time to board.” Without waiting for a reply, she helped Eleanor to the nearest seat. “Here you go. You should be boarding in just a few minutes.”
Eleanor patted her hand. “You’re a good girl.”
Laurel crouched down. “Do you have anybody meeting you at the airport?”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes. My son is meeting me right outside baggage claim. Don’t you worry.” She pressed both gnarled hands against Laurel’s face. “You’re a special one, aren’t you?”
“Damn it, Snow,” George bellowed through the earbuds.
Laurel winced. “I am happy to help.”
Eleanor tightened her grip. “You have such lovely eyes. How lucky are you.”
Lucky? Laurel had rarely felt lucky to have heterochromia. “You’re very kind.”
“You’re beautiful. Such stunning colors and so distinct. I’ve never seen such a green light in anyone’s eye, and your other eye is a beautiful dark shade of blue.” Eleanor squinted and leaned in closer. “You have a little green flare in the blue eye, don’t you?”
Laurel smiled and removed the woman’s hands from her face, careful of the arthritic bumps on her knuckles. “Yes. I have a heterochromia in the middle of heterochromatic eyes. It’s an adventure.”
Eleanor laughed. “You’re a pip, you are. God speed to you.”
Laurel stood. “Have a nice trip, Eleanor.” She turned to head back to her gate, her mind returning to her trip to Genesis Valley. She’d have to move all of her appointments in DC to the first week in January, so her brain automatically flipped dates. If she juggled a Monday meeting that week, she would have time for a pedicure. Maybe she could skip her Wednesday lunch with the forensic accountants to discuss the recently developed tactical reasoning software. The accountants rarely escaped the computer lab, and when they did, they always talked for too long. “Sorry about that, sir. What did you find out?”
George’s sigh was long suffering. “Multiple body parts, including three skulls, were found this morning by kids four-wheeling on a mountain called . . .” Papers rustled. “Snowblood Peak.”
Laurel switched directions, her heart rate kicking up. “Just this morning? It’s a little early to be narrowing in on a suspect.” She’d spent some time snowmobiling that mountain as a child with her uncles before leaving for college at the age of eleven. “Could be an old graveyard or something like that. Might not be a case.”
“I know, and this is a local case and not federal, I think.”
She paused. “Actually, it depends where the bodies were found. The valley below Snowblood Peak is half owned by the federal government and half by the state. It’s beautiful country.”
“Huh. Well, okay. We could have jurisdiction if you feel like fighting with the state and the locals.” George didn’t sound encouraging.
She never felt like fighting. “Don’t we have an office in Seattle?”
“Yes, but it’s in flux right now. We were in the midst of creating a special unit out of there called the Pacific Northwest Violent Crimes Unit, but there was a political shakeup, a shooting, and a bunch of transfers. The office is restructuring now, and currently in place I have two agents dealing with a drug cartel.” Papers shuffled across the line.
“So I’m on my own with this case, if it turns out to be anything.” Which was normal for her, actually. A flight from LAX to Seattle had been scheduled to depart out of gate thirteen, and a flight from LAX to Everett had been listed as gate seventeen. “Has my flight been changed?”
More papers rustled. “Jackie?” George bellowed. “Does Snow have a new flight?”
Laurel grimaced at the sudden pain in her ear.
George returned. “You’ve been switched to Flight 234, leaving in ten minutes. They’re holding the door open for you, but we could only get you a middle seat.”
At least the gate was close to her current location, and she’d be flying into Everett, which was a quicker drive to Genesis Valley than the drive from Sea-Tac. She loped into a jog, pulling her wheeled carry-on behind her. “I only have a weekend bag and my agency-issued Glock.” She hadn’t brought her personal weapon.
“I’m not expecting this to be anything. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to see if it’s a case we want or not, and don’t forget, you called in a favor,” George said.
Her temples ached. “Even so, you don’t want me being the face of the FBI. I don’t relate well to students or prospects.” At least two people had actually left during her presentation.
“Get good with people,” George countered.
She reached the gate and flashed her ID to the impatient-looking gate agent. The woman kept tapping her heel. “I’m boarding. If you get any more information on the skulls, please send it to my tablet so I’m not going in blind.” Her stomach cramped with instinct as well as from her knowledge of statistical probabilities. Three different skulls found on the peak?
There was a murderer close to her hometown.
Chapter Two
“Laurel? Laurel Snow?” a female voice asked.
Laurel had already clocked the woman and moved on. She paused as the wind pierced her thin jacket and the first spear of icy rain drilled her forehead outside the airport. “Yes?”
The woman hurried forward from a dented green Volkswagen Bug parked at the curb outside baggage claim in Everett. “I’m Kate Vuittron.” She held out a manicured hand with scarlet-painted fingernails. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Laurel shook Kate’s hand. The woman had to be in her early forties and was dressed entirely in red. Flowered red blouse, bright red skirt, and even red Mary Jane pumps with lighter red straps across the ankle. As if that wasn’t enough, red streaks ran through her long blond hair.
“It’s nice to meet you. You know my mom?” Laurel asked.
Kate dodged a guy with three suitcases and then rolled her eyes. “Kind of? I applied for a job at the tea warehouse, but she doesn’t have any openings. Deidre kept my info and called me this morning.” She reached for the carry-on. “Let me take this. You sure pack light.” She grasped the handle and moved efficiently to place it in the back seat of the Bug. “Hop in.”
Laurel opened the door and slid inside, setting her laptop bag on the floor. Florida Georgia Line blared from the radio, and heat blasted her, taking the edge off the cold northern Washington weather.
“Sorry.” Kate sat, shut her door, turned down the music, put her seatbelt on, and zipped away from the curb.
Laurel scrambled to secure her seatbelt. Horns blared behind them. She took a deep breath. “My mom hired you just to pick me up?”
“Yeah,” Kate said, cutting off a bus as she switched lanes. “I think she felt sorry for me, but she shouldn’t. I’m fine.” Her tone of voice said otherwise.
Deidre had always had a soft spot for all wounded animals. Laurel eyed the woman. The manicure was good but home painted, the hair was a red spray on, and the jewelry was absent. Interesting.