Chapter 28
Laurel studied the man across from her while Walter leaned against the doorframe of the conference room, his arms crossed. Mud coated his body, and he bled from a narrow scrape along his jawline.
Tom Foster stared at her, shifting like the chair bothered his muddy body.
His hoodie was soaked through and still faintly singed.
He smelled of wet leaves, burnt powder, and synthetic fabric that hadn’t been washed in a long time.
Nester had pulled his record: petty theft, drugs, vandalism, a long list of nothing important. Until now.
“You set off an explosive device in a federal mailbox,” Laurel said. “Explain.”
Tom blinked fast, then licked his lips. “I wasn’t trying to blow anything up. It was just firecrackers. I didn’t know the thing would actually go.”
“You tampered with mail intended for a federal agent,” she said.
He winced. “I didn’t know it was his mailbox. Honest.”
Walter pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “What exactly were you looking for?”
The suspect hesitated. “A letter. Maybe. The lady wasn’t clear.”
“What lady?” Walter growled.
“I don’t know her name.” Foster squirmed, the cuffs clinking faintly. “She found me outside a bar in Elk Hollow. Said there might be an envelope showing up at a certain box at your address, and it needed to be taken.”
Laurel twirled her pen in her hand. How did the woman know about the envelope? “What did she look like?”
He gulped. “I was kinda drunk. She was probably average height, slim, and wore a black hoodie and jeans? Sunglasses covered her eyes. White chick. Probably in her thirties or forties. Maybe fifties. I don’t know.”
“How did she find you?” Laurel asked.
Foster shrugged. “Hell if I know. I mean, I do have a reputation for getting things done.”
Laurel seriously doubted that statement. She looked up, expecting fury on Walter’s face. Instead, his eyes glimmered and a smile flashed for a second. He caught her gaze and sobered instantly. “What bar did she find you at?”
Foster picked mud off his chin. “I don’t know the name. Neon owl sign. Cheap beer. She walked up while I was smoking.”
“Did she tell you what might be in the envelope?” Walter asked, tone low and flat.
“Nope. She said it might show up and that I should watch for two weeks. Just look for the name of Tyler Griggs, or one without a return address. Or anything handwritten. But you didn’t get anything like that. You get all junk and bills, man.”
Walter snorted.
Laurel paused, looking up at him. He was amused?
He sobered again. “You didn’t ask the woman any questions?”
Foster shifted his weight and winced. “She was offering five hundred bucks to grab a letter. Or destroy it if I couldn’t. She paid half up front.”
Walter took a step back, crossed his arms, then gave the faintest, briefest smile.
Laurel blinked. Noted it. Continued. “All right, Tom. Here’s the deal. If you help us, we’ll help you. Right now you’re looking at a felony.”
Foster groaned. “Dude. I was drunk. Didn’t see her car, didn’t even see her arrive or leave. I want to help. I do.”
Walter glowered. “You’re a moron.”
There was the Walter Laurel adored. What in the world was going on with him?
“Ha,” Foster said. “A moron wouldn’t have brought firecrackers just in case he got caught, now would he? My job was to steal the info, and I would’ve, but you saw me. So I destroyed it.”
The man was a moron.
Walter glowered. “You could’ve killed somebody.”
Laurel shook her head. “So just to make sure I have this correctly. You carried out a potentially lethal act for an unnamed woman, on behalf of an anonymous sender, targeting a letter you weren’t sure existed?”
Foster looked up at the ceiling and groaned. Loudly. “I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like conspiracy, tampering with federal property, and destruction of evidence,” she said. “Among other probable crimes.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said, quieter now.
What had been in that box? Laurel glanced at the one remaining piece.
They’ll kill everyone, I’m afraid. It made sense that Tyler had sent his half brother, the FBI agent, information in case of his death.
Why hadn’t Laurel thought of that? Was her head still on vacation?
Or did the sniper have her more concerned than she believed?
At least Walter and Ena had tried to collect all of the pieces before the rain ruined them, and right now evidence techs were out at the scene.
She wasn’t holding out hope for anything substantial, though.
She pushed a notepad toward Foster. “You’re going to write everything down. Physical description. Location. Exact time. Verbatim conversation if you can manage it.”
Foster nodded and cast a glance over at Walter. “Hey. I’m not sure what happened between you and the tough-looking, dark-haired chick after you tackled me, but I feel like you asked an important question.”
Walter glared at him.
Foster’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “That was in Chinese, right?”
“Japanese,” Walter corrected.
“Same thing,” Foster said.
Walter pushed away from the doorframe. “Not even close.”
Foster glanced back at Laurel, picking up the pen. “Whatever he asked her—I’m pretty sure she said yes.”
Laurel finished reading through all of the autopsy reports, part of her mind wondering what Walter had asked Ena, and the other part on the glass boards behind her.
Nagging at her. Whispering at her to turn around and find the missing piece.
Walter had taken Foster to the local jail for processing and to await bond since the FBI had an agreement with the local police.
The U.S. Marshals would take over from there.
Huck walked inside, looking tall and broad in dark jeans, flak boots, a black T-shirt, and a Fish and Wildlife jacket. He carried a ballistic vest with one strong hand. “Hi. What’s going on with Ena and Walter?”
Laurel sat back and studied his topaz eyes and rugged jawline.
Did he get more good-looking every day, or did she become more enamored?
Her continually growing attraction to him could be understood through a biological and evolutionary lens: as emotional bonds deepen, hormones like oxytocin and dopamine reinforce feelings of attachment and reward, subtly enhancing perceived physical attraction.
From a biological anthropology standpoint, consistent displays of competence, protection, and emotional stability signal strong mate potential—traits historically linked to survival and reproductive success.
Her brain, wired for long-term security, could associate his presence with safety and reliability, causing her perception of his attractiveness to intensify over time.
Or, he was just hot, as Kate would say.
Laurel pushed her laptop to the side. “I noticed Walter smiling at odd moments earlier in the interview. Supposedly he asked Ena a question in the Japanese language, and she might’ve said yes.”
Huck’s eyebrows rose. “They’re engaged? They haven’t been dating long.”
“Not at all.” She shrugged. “Walter went through a near-death experience and may be trying to get on with life, as my mother would say.” She glanced at the vest. “Are you heading into hostile territory today?”
“Not yet. I haven’t caught the bear bugging the Finderson Subdivision yet, but we dropped a bunch of doughnuts in the cage earlier today, so we’ll get her. I’m coming with you to execute the warrant at that lab, and Officer Tso will be flanking your other side.”
Laurel sat back in the chair. “I don’t need bodyguards. If I did, I’d request them from the FBI.”
“You didn’t do so, so we’re coming.”
Laurel sought out his reasoning and then countered. “I’m a trained FBI agent, as is Walter. We don’t need babysitters.” It was a mite insulting, really.
“Someone keeps shooting at your head, Laurel.” Huck’s voice had an interesting manner of lowering quietly in a way that somehow sounded threatening.
She needed to learn that skill. “You’re being illogical and over-protective. Our jobs can’t interfere with each other’s.”
“We often work together, and I’m a trained sniper. I’ll know if there’s a scope on you.”
That made zero sense. “You’ll just feel it?”
“Yes.” His tone sounded dead sure now.
With his experience, he’d probably note all good sniper positions, narrow in on them, and see movement or odd shapes. It wasn’t instinct. He had training and field experience. Yet she couldn’t allow this. “No. Huck—”
“You’re my reason, Laurel.” Simple words. Intense eyes. Sharply handsome face.
She blinked. “Your reason for what?”
“Everything.” He lounged against the doorframe, appearing as if he could lunge in a second if danger rolled down the hallway.
“Growing up, the wilderness was my reason. In the army, protecting this country kept me going. Afterward, I worked tough cases in Portland, lost one, and headed up to the mountains to live with my dog. You took me out of that comfortable and slightly lonely world. Dragged me back into this one. For you.”
Her mouth slightly opened but no words emerged.
His grin was quick and then gone, replaced by more intensity.
“I love you. I know you’ll tell me all about hormones and biological imperatives that make us feel love.
I don’t care. I feel you in my bones. Deep.
I’ll kill for you and I’ll die for you. Definitely take a bullet aimed at you.
Not because of a baby we almost had, not because we’re colleagues or even lovers.
Because you’re it for me. The reason I get up in the morning and double-check my security at night.
I need you in this world with me. My reason. ”
“I love you, too.” The words rolled out of her naturally before she could think.
He barked out a laugh. “You look shocked about that.”
“I don’t understand love like this,” she said honestly.
“Don’t need to. Just feel it and enjoy. And let me be me while I let you be you.”
That appeared to be a fair request. “What if those two realities conflict?”
“Then we’ll work it out. And how we’re going to do so in this situation is that Tso and I are accompanying you and Walter to the building where somebody shot at you the other day. We’ll stay out of the way unless I need to get in the way.”
She’d already gotten two people shot, one dead, and she didn’t want to lose the captain. “We’re parking in the underground garage and going right up to the offices. We’ll stay away from windows.”
“Good plan. Walter is driving and you’re sitting between me and Tso in the back seat on the way there.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’ll grab Tso. It’s time to go.”
Laurel watched him walk by the conference room windows to the hallway, a mite nonplussed.
She was his reason?