Chapter 18
Laurel had to admit she felt decidedly better the next morning.
The tension in her shoulders had eased, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was because the FBI had taken over the Tyler Griggs case or the fact that Huck had been especially .
. . energetic that morning. She looked through file folders with her office blinds closed tightly behind her, pleased that Nester had succeeded in obtaining warrants and now they had jurisdiction of the Tyler Griggs case.
They needed to search his residence again.
“Hi, Laurel.” Viv Vuittron strode into the room. She wore ripped jeans and a crop top, her curly blond hair around her shoulders. “I have my FBI internship application and was hoping you’d take a look at it.” She placed a neatly stapled stack of papers onto the old door desk.
“Of course.” Laurel had already written her letter of recommendation. “Hopefully you’ll be assigned here.” That is, if they caught the sniper trying to kill Laurel and made the office safe again.
Viv grinned. “That would be awesome.” At sixteen years old, she seemed bright and ambitious.
She sobered. “Thanks for checking on Larry for me. We worked together sometimes at Oakridge, and I really liked him. He treated me as an equal and not just like a dumb high school student.” Her eyes glimmered.
Laurel nodded. “I’m sorry about his death.” She wished he hadn’t been cremated so she could order an autopsy. “Did you know either Dr. Liu or Melissa Palmtree?”
Viv frowned. “Yeah, kind of. Why did you just use past tense?”
Laurel sucked in a breath. “They’re both deceased.”
Viv blinked. “Oh, no.” Her eyebrows slashed down. “By suicide like Larry?”
“No,” Laurel said. “I can’t tell you anything else, but I think you should end your internship at Oakridge now. Just in case. Okay?”
Viv gulped. “I understand.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go. We’re working on double plays today for the next game.” Her head down, she hurried from the office.
Laurel watched her go. Had she handled that correctly? Hopefully. She turned back to her desk and read through several reports for a while.
At some point, Huck poked his head in. “We’re in the conference room ready for the presentation.
” His eyes held a hard focus. Apparently, having her in danger brought out the animalistic side of him.
Not that she was complaining. There was something reassuring about Huck’s intensity, the way his concern translated into action rather than empty reassurances. She could work with that.
She stood and hustled around the desk to sit in the conference room with Huck, Agent Norrs, Nester, and Walter in an unofficial task force.
The air smelled of coffee and stale paper, the usual scents of long, relentless investigations.
Their copper-and-glass table had been broken a couple of weeks previous, and Kate had somehow found a fifties-style teal-colored table to use for now.
“All right,” Huck said, his voice steady and direct. “I’ve scouted the area in front of our offices. Checked all the surrounding buildings and rooftops for possible sniper points. We’ve identified eight locations within range.”
Laurel noted the tightness around his eyes, the way his shoulders remained tense even as he tried to project calm. Huck wasn’t one to trust easily, and the fact that someone had targeted her clearly had him on edge. She couldn’t blame him.
“We’ll keep the blinds all shut in the office,” Huck continued.
“No one can see in, but that only matters when you’re inside.
” He glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “The more dangerous time for you is going to or from vehicles. My place is secure,” he added.
“I’ve got multiple floodlights and security cameras set up.
I don’t think you should go back to your mom’s home.
Not until we’ve got this under control.”
“I agree.” Laurel kept her voice steady, but her mind was already spinning through scenarios. Possible vantage points, attack vectors, methods of evasion. “You’ve done everything right so far.”
Agent Norrs grunted his agreement, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “We’ll have extra agents posted around the building for the time being. But I’ve seen what Huck’s set up at his place. You’re better off staying there.”
“In addition,” Huck said, his gaze boring into her with that familiar, stubborn intensity, “how do you feel about wearing a bulletproof vest?”
Laurel hesitated, the idea settling uneasily in her mind.
Bulletproof vests were bulky, restrictive.
More important, they sent a message she didn’t want to project—fear.
“I don’t like the idea,” she admitted. Her fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the conference table, a steady rhythm that helped her think.
“They’re cumbersome and can limit movement. ”
Huck’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing as if preparing to argue. The room had gone silent, all eyes fixed on her. She understood their concern, but that didn’t change her dislike for the idea.
Walter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting between Laurel and Huck.
The man’s fingers twitched against his coffee cup, his usual nervous energy amplified by the tension in the room.
“It’s just a precaution, right?” he offered, his voice unsteady.
“Doesn’t mean you’re expecting trouble. Just . . . being careful.”
Laurel considered his words, her mind filtering them through her own pragmatic lens.
Precaution made sense. But strapping herself into body armor still felt like admitting she couldn’t control the situation.
Huck wasn’t going to let it go. She could see that in the firm line of his jaw, the way his arms folded over his chest like he was bracing himself for a fight.
“Consider it,” Huck said, his voice low but forceful. “At least when you’re outside. No point taking risks you don’t have to.”
Laurel met his gaze, her mind already calculating probabilities and outcomes. “I’ll think about it.”
“So we just need to be careful until we figure out who wants you dead.” Huck’s voice held a gruff finality, as if the solution were as straightforward as just waiting out the storm. His shoulders remained taut, every muscle telegraphing vigilance.
Agent Norrs nodded, his expression all business, mouth set in a grim line.
“We’re still going through all the applicable and relevant cases.
The one with the four brothers—you know, Henry Jones Phillips?
The killer’s still in prison, as is one of the brothers.
Another brother went to prison on unrelated charges and died there about two years ago.
The final brother died in a bar fight about a year ago.
” The agent cracked his knuckles. “There are no other living relatives in that situation. At least, none that we’ve been able to locate. ”
Laurel nodded, her gaze fixed on the table as if the teal hue held answers. “So I need to think of who else might want to kill me.”
“That’s right,” Norrs said. “Keep thinking through past cases.”
“I definitely am,” Laurel replied, though her focus had already splintered, her mind following two tracks at once. She forced herself to focus on the sniper and not her other investigations. “Nester?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.
Nester slid his laptop across the table, his eyes bright with the eagerness of someone who loved his work.
“Yeah, here you go, boss.” He tapped a few keys and a simulation bloomed to life on the screen.
“If you look here”—Nester gestured at the display—“from where the sniper was positioned the day of the courthouse shooting, the bullet did go right by you and hit Abigail. Huck said he heard the bullet. So that actually makes some sense.”
“So you think he was aiming for me?” Laurel asked.
“I don’t know.” Nester shrugged one shoulder. “I can just show you the trajectory.”
On the screen, the simulation played out with meticulous precision. It showed the shooter’s position, the bullet slicing through the air, whizzing past Laurel’s shoulder and colliding with Abigail’s chest. Abigail crumpled backward, the image pausing just before she hit the ground.
It was an impressive simulation. Clean. Methodical. Exactly how Laurel liked things to be.
“So this guy isn’t as good as we thought he was?” Walter asked.
Huck nodded, his eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. He thinks he’s better than he is. He missed you both times. Unfortunately, someone else was hit.”
“Unfortunately.” Laurel echoed the word under her breath, her gaze fixed on the frozen image of Abigail collapsing. The simulation made the event feel sterile, mechanical, but that didn’t change the reality of it. While Abigail survived, Dr. Sandoval had not.
Agent Norrs’s gaze shifted to Huck, his expression expectant. “I know you interviewed witnesses out at the church about who’d want to shoot Abigail, but Laurel may have enemies there as well. She wanted to put their father in prison.”
“I seriously doubt anybody at the church wants me dead because of Zeke Caine,” Laurel replied.
“In that case, Abigail would’ve been the target.
She’s the one who killed him.” The memory of that day was clean and crisp in her mind, the image of Abigail holding that knife dripping with blood unassailable.
“I believe the most effective way to figure out who tried to kill me is to continue the focus on my past cases. Whoever’s targeting me likely has some connection to one of them. ”
“What about current cases?” Agent Norrs asked, his brows drawn tight.