“Thank you for picking me up. I have to make a quick phone call.” Laurel took her phone from her purse and used official lines, going through the deputy director’s tough assistant before reaching him. “Hello, sir. Did you dig anything up?”
“Yes.” George loudly moved papers. “Let’s see. This morning around eight, off Snowblood Peak, at least three bodies were found by a bunch of kids who wrecked something called a UTV. Huh. Guess that’s like a four-wheeler but with doors. Nice.”
Rain with a hint of ice pinged against the windshield.
“Are the kids all right?” Laurel asked.
“Yeah. I talked to a doctor and they’re upset, but physically all four are okay, with the worst injury being a dislocated shoulder. The hospital is keeping them for observation until tomorrow,” George said.
That was a relief. Laurel swallowed. “Has the media become involved yet?”
“Not to my knowledge,” George said. “You’ll know more on the ground.”
Laurel craned her neck to check out the nimbus clouds, their bellies dark and jagged while their tops grew even more swollen. “If it’s raining near the city, it’s snowing up on the peak. Has a team been sent up there with spotlights?”
“Yes,” George said. “I’ve confirmed that a state team from Seattle is up there now. They’re trying to preserve everything they can, but the ground is wet and still a danger, so they have to proceed carefully. We don’t have a federal team there, and even if you want jurisdiction, I’d prefer to work with the state on this.”
“That makes the most sense.” Laurel nodded. “If it gets cold enough, the frozen ground should assist us with recovery of the bodies that have been unearthed. Do you know if they have cadaver dogs up there yet?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” George returned. “I’ve given you everything I have. Oh, except I reached out to the Washington Fish and Wildlife offices, and they wanted to get into a pissing match over jurisdiction. In Washington State, they’re fully commissioned cops, and the guy I talked to didn’t give two shits I was the deputy director of the FBI. Just to let you know.”
Laurel needed to examine the scene. “Who did you speak with?”
“Some guy at the local office.” George’s sigh was long suffering. “Hold on. I do have a contact in Washington State.” A terrible rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth crackled over the line for several moments before George returned. “Okay, here’s the gist. The best hunter and tracker they have works remotely, and I’m sending you his information now. His name is Captain Huck Rivers and he’s on a week of leave, but I’m sending you his home address. From the sound of it, this guy will be pulled in no matter what, so you might as well use him early if you’re going to get involved. Good luck, Snow.” He clicked off.
Laurel set her phone on her black pants leg. “I’d like to examine the scene before the storm obliterates more evidence.” It was too bad she hadn’t packed a sweater or thicker socks. “Do you have any ideas how I could reach Snowblood Peak?”
“Not really,” Kate said. “I just moved to Genesis Valley a few weeks ago from Seattle, although I did grow up around here. I can’t believe there are so many dead bodies.”
Laurel pressed her hand against the door to brace herself. “Do you know a Fish and Wildlife officer named Huck Rivers?”
“Nope.” Kate winced and cut across two lanes.
Laurel set her feet against the floor in a useless attempt to brace her body if Kate crashed the car. Her large bag opened up, and peach-colored yarn rolled across the floor. She scrambled to shove it back into place.
Kate sped up. “You knit?”
“Yes. I’m part of a group that knits blankets and hats for NICU babies. When my hands are busy, my brain can work faster.” She carefully set her smallest knitting needles back into place.
“Huh. That’s an interesting hobby,” Kate said. “Your mom said you were a genius who finished college in your teens.”
Laurel stretched her fingers as they warmed. “I majored in several subjects at once, and my mom taught me to knit as a stress reliever when I was young. A few years ago, doing a project for school, I learned about the need for hats and so on for premature or ill babies, and the program morphed from there.” She zipped the purse.
“Wait a minute. What morphed?” Kate glanced at her. “Did you just discover this group or create it?”
Laurel’s cheeks heated. “I helped to create it, but I don’t run it. Now I just knit.” Pretty much. Well, she still handled some of the logistics, and her heart warmed every time she thought of those strong little souls fighting so hard to live. Her phone dinged and she held up the screen for Kate. “Here’s Captain Rivers’s address. Do you mind taking me to his place?” Hopefully Rivers wasn’t up on the mountain already; she assumed he was still on leave.
“Yes. I promised your mom I’d take you wherever you wanted to go. She must’ve known you’d want to go up the mountain. Do you mind using your phone to navigate?”
“No problem.” Laurel typed in the address and waited for the navigation program to take over.
Kate sped up the windshield wipers. “Did you grow up in Genesis Valley?”
“Until I was eleven years old, and then I went to college.” Laurel shook out her fingers to warm them up.
Kate looked her way and then back out the front window. “You went to college when you were only eleven years old?”
Laurel nodded. “Yes.” The surprised reaction wasn’t a new one. “I was bored and needed a challenge.” With her odd eyes and insatiable intellect, she’d been a different child. That was one of the nicest names she’d been called. She shrugged. It was all in the past.
“Sounds interesting,” Kate said. “If you attended college so early, you must have a bunch of degrees in addition to starting nonprofit groups that knit for babies. What did you study?” The woman sounded honestly curious.
Laurel flattened her hands on her pants. “I’ve studied quite a few different disciplines and have degrees in data science, neuroscience, organizational behavior, bioinformatics and integrative genomics, game theory, and psychology with an emphasis on abnormal psychology.”
“Sounds like you just want to figure people out,” Kate murmured.
“I guess,” Laurel agreed. “Or maybe I just want to figure myself out.”
Kate reached over to turn up the heat. “Have you?”
“I do not believe so,” Laurel said thoughtfully. “The older I get, the less I seem to know. Do you ever feel that way?”
Kate’s mouth turned down. “I have three daughters, and I definitely feel that way. Trust me.” The woman didn’t wear a wedding ring, but it wasn’t Laurel’s place to ask.
Laurel searched for the most logical conclusion and finally had to ask a question. “Why are you wearing so many different shades of red?”
Kate turned down the heat. “I wondered if you were going to ask.”
“I didn’t want to insult you by asking in case you have a compulsion,” Laurel admitted.