Chapter 35
It had been a long and useless day. After dark, alone in her office, Laurel sat on her conference table and stared at the boards.
Huck was downstairs in his, arranging for another helicopter search first thing in the morning.
The storm was making surveillance difficult, and they’d had to stop for the day.
What if the lab was nowhere to be found?
What if Viv wasn’t even in some hidden lab?
Laurel reached for her phone and called Huck.
“We have to get Dr. Yannish back in here but I’m coming up short.
So far, the evidence teams haven’t found anything from the lab that will give me probable cause.
No records of another lab.” Her mind spun confusion around.
“I forgot to tell you that Tim Kohnex was here earlier saying the wind is whispering about Viv. It’s a long shot, but if we don’t find anything else, I guess we should interview him.
” He lived in the far opposite direction of the yew trees, but he had mentioned tires in the wind.
Unless Laurel was wrong. What if Tyler had been warning Walter about something else? Why wasn’t this case coming together?
“Okay. We haven’t searched that direction yet,” Huck said. “I’m still on the phone with aviation and will be up in a few. You haven’t eaten all day. Ena picked up sandwiches from the deli and I’ll bring one up to you.”
“Thanks.” Laurel clicked off absently. She cocked her head.
Then she swung her legs onto the table and stood, looking down at all the pictures from a different angle.
She’d placed one of Agent Norrs on the sniper case board where he looked tall and formidable.
Abigail had kept her updated all day, and he was no longer in critical condition and would make a full recovery.
The board morphed in front of Laurel’s eyes.
Wait a minute. Fascinating. She jumped down and approached the boards, taking Abigail’s photo off her board and putting it on the sniper board next to the one of Norrs. The sniper had hit Abigail the first time. Could Abigail have been the actual target?
Then Laurel took Dr. Matteo Sandoval’s picture off the lab board and taped it onto the sniper’s board.
What if the sniper had hit who he wanted? What if he hadn’t actually missed? What if Laurel wasn’t even the target?
Abigail and Sandoval. Plus, Abigail had been in Laurel’s office during the third shooting. Why would somebody want both Abigail and Dr. Sandoval dead?
“Hello there,” Abigail said smoothly from behind her.
Laurel jumped and spun around, her heart racing. “How did you get up here?”
Abigail snorted. “Please. I secured a badge the first week you installed it. Did you really think you could keep me out?”
Laurel glanced to her right to see Henry Vexler, his gaze on the boards. “You brought your attorney.”
“I did.” Abigail smiled, moving her painted red lips. “I thought we might reach an agreement.”
Laurel glanced back at the sniper board. “You have degrees in biochemistry and neuroscience,” she said slowly.
“I do.” Abigail read the board. “I see what you’re doing here.”
Vexler frowned. “I don’t. Also, if you don’t have access to this floor, we shouldn’t be here. It’s a federal building, Abigail.”
Abigail barely looked at him. “Don’t be a dumbass, Henry. You’re here to make me a deal. Well, the beginning of one. We need to meet with the county prosecutor about my case after we secure my sister’s assistance. Time truly is of the essence.”
Heat flushed down Laurel’s torso. “The sniper meant to hit you at the courthouse that first day.”
“Yep,” Abigail chirped. “Chalk one up for Wayne. That vest saved my life.”
Laurel breathed out. She couldn’t believe she’d missed this. “You work for Oakridge Solutions.”
Abigail sighed. “Really, Laurel? You’re slow sometimes. I merely consulted with the offshoot of the labs. For a nice sum of money, actually.”
The hidden lab? “Where’s the lab?”
Abigail’s tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “That information is going to cost you. Cost the county, really.”
Fire shot through Laurel. She didn’t lose her temper, ever, unless Abigail was around. It was frightening, really. “Tyler Griggs warned Walter via a letter about some sort of attack.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “No. They’re really going to do it?
Really try out a bioweapon? I didn’t even know for sure they’d created it.
Oh, no. We’d better get a deal in place fast.” She looked at Vexler.
“I think you should call the county prosecutor right now, and we’ll hammer it all out here in the conference room.
Time is of the essence if they’re going to test that concoction. ”
“Tell me about the concoction,” Laurel hissed.
“I don’t think so.” Henry Vexler drew a handgun from the inside pocket of his jacket with a slow, practiced motion—showing no urgency, no panic, just the chilling efficiency of someone who’d done this before.
The weapon was matte black, thick-barreled, and unnervingly quiet in its presence alone.
A suppressor was already threaded onto the front, giving the gun an elongated, ghostly silhouette.
He raised it, casual but certain, leveling it between Abigail and Laurel.
“I’m way too close to miss this time, ladies. ”
Laurel recognized it instantly as an HK USP Tactical, built for special operations. It was a professional’s weapon with a threaded barrel, high-profile sights, match trigger. Wait a minute. How was this even possible? “You? You’re the sniper?” The high-priced lawyer?
Abigail stepped away from him and toward Laurel, true shock on her face. “I did not see that coming.”
Laurel didn’t take her eyes off the gun. Vexler’s expression hadn’t shifted. No flash of gloating, no twitch of adrenaline. Just calm malice.
He grabbed Abigail’s arm and yanked her toward him, shoving the weapon into her rib cage. “You’d run, Abigail.” He stared at Laurel. “But you’ll follow nicely so I won’t shoot your sister.”
That fast, finally, Laurel put it all together.
“You wanted Abigail dead. She has knowledge about the lab. You’re more than Bertra’s lawyer.
Right?” He hadn’t told her when he was retained and she’d wrongly assumed it just happened because he was dogging her.
Laurel had nothing to do with him representing Oakridge Solutions.
“Yeah. I was aiming at Abigail each time.” He shrugged.
“Was a sniper years ago and I might’ve lost my touch a little bit.
I’m hell in a courtroom, though.” His gaze hardened.
“You, move. In front of us. And if you cause any sort of scene downstairs, I’ll shoot you both, aim inside the Fish and Wildlife office, and kill everyone. ” He turned, wincing.
Abigail pushed against him. “How’s the leg, Henry?”
Red spiraled beneath his cheekbones. “Flesh wound. Same as the arm. But you will pay for shooting me, bitch.”
Abigail actually rolled her eyes. “How pedantic.”
“Where is Viv?” Laurel stepped forward, subtly shifting her weight, mapping exits, calculating angles, but the odds were not good.
“I’ll take you right to her,” Vexler said, visibly tightening his grip on Abigail. “It’s the only way you’ll even find her.”
Laurel swallowed. “Is she alive?”
“For now.” He motioned for her to move. “You first. Now.”
Laurel led the way down the hallway and then stairwell, her mind spinning. The damn lawyer was the sniper? This was her only chance to get to Viv. A buzz of activity came from the Fish and Wildlife office, but nobody looked outside as they walked past and out the main exit.
The relentless rain hit them like a wall as they stepped outside into the night. It was the kind of storm that blurred vision and erased sound.
Vexler marched them to a battered maroon Chevy Caprice, its trunk already popped like it had been waiting for them. The car screamed of neglect and anonymity, rust curling around its fenders like rot. It was a throwaway vehicle and the kind used for one-way errands.
“Get in,” he said.
Abigail hesitated. Laurel didn’t. She guided her sister to the trunk and climbed in first. The carpet instantly scratched her wrists. There was no emergency latch, and the taillights were old. Strong and sturdy.
Vexler shoved Abigail inside, and she rolled into Laurel. Then he slammed the trunk shut. Seconds later, they were bouncing out of the parking lot with rain beating against the metal.
“I can’t believe you wanted to get in this old car trunk,” Abigail muttered, rolling over onto her back, her knees up.
“I have to find Viv.” Laurel turned on her side, facing Abigail, her butt against the back of the rear seat.
Darkness enveloped them. The carpet had that unmistakable odor of old glue and mildew, like someone tried to clean a spill years ago and just gave up.
Beneath that, the synthetic fibers were steeped in decades of smoke, motor oil, and something vaguely organic.
Maybe food, maybe blood, maybe both. It was the smell of neglect.
Laurel could practically taste it.
The car groaned over uneven asphalt, then pitched as it left the road entirely.
Laurel’s spine thudded against the cold back of the rear seat.
She shifted, pulling her knees in tighter to brace for the terrain ahead.
Gravel sprayed up into the wheel wells—sporadic, loud.
They were climbing now, the incline constant, the turns sharp.
It wasn’t freeway driving. This was mountain. Rural. Off-grid.
She let her mind mark the changes: fifteen minutes of inner-city grid, six turns, then the long curve upward, a sharp right onto dirt.
The pavement had been gone for five, maybe six minutes.
The engine strained against the slope, old suspension creaking like bone on bone.
Had they headed outside of town toward the Genesis Valley Community Church?
It felt like they were driving east that way.
Beside her, Abigail breathed evenly. Of course she did.