Chapter 38
“This might possibly be my worst nightmare,” Huck said, placing the bowl of popcorn beside the bottle of wine.
The wineglasses were already half-full, sweating a little under the soft glow of the old floor lamp.
His coffee table bore the scars of time, such as rings from forgotten mugs, the ghost of a fishing lure project gone rogue, and a deep gouge that may have involved a screwdriver and a bet.
Laurel didn’t say anything right away. She made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and reached for her wine.
One foot tucked under her, she leaned into the cushions, shoulders relaxed, a blanket bunched at her side with an ice pack next to it.
She held bruises from her fights at the lab.
The fire crackled gently in the corner, warm enough to make the windows fog just slightly.
Even the thermostat had given up trying to compete.
The dog had commandeered his bed and allowed the cat to share it, which in itself was something worth writing down.
They were nose to nose, both deep in the kind of nap that only came after a long day of doing nothing.
Huck sank into the couch with a sigh. He extended his legs onto the table, clinking his ankle against a coaster, and slid his arm over Laurel’s shoulder.
“As nightmares go, you’re not wrong.” Laurel took a long sip and stared at the screen. “It’s the smirk,” she said. “I want to slap the smirk right off her face.”
The podcast ran on the plasma screen, where three women sat under overly flattering lighting.
Journalist Rachel Raprenzi, whose blond braid appeared tight and elegant at the same time, her eyebrows up and her face open.
Prosecuting Attorney Tamera Hornhart, all jawline and controlled breath, who already looked like a politician ready for state office.
And Dr. Abigail Caine, who appeared like a brave and wounded heroine in a pink dress just a little too large.
“I just cannot believe everything you went through,” Rachel said, blinking slowly, as if the weight of it might take her under.
Abigail lifted a hand, two fingers raised. “As soon as I knew what was happening, I had to act and tell the truth. I can’t believe that my lawyer, my successful and rather well-known lawyer, was working with this lab group that had created a bio-weapon and thought himself a sniper.”
“Of course not,” Huck muttered, rolling his eyes.
Laurel snorted. “Can someone please tell her this isn’t a silly movie?”
“She probably already wrote the script.”
Onscreen, Rachel zeroed down. “Abigail, it’s my understanding that the charges against you have been dropped. The charges for the murder of Zeke Caine, your father?”
“Yes,” Abigail said smoothly. “They have.”
Rachel put on her serious face. “Did you reach some sort of immunity agreement with the feds?”
“Of course not,” Abigail said. “My case wasn’t federal. I was charged by the state of Washington.”
Tamera nodded. “Yes. In looking at all the evidence that we have, and in speaking with witnesses, Dr. Caine has a clear case of self-defense. We believe very strongly that she is innocent of the murder of Zeke Caine because she was defending herself.”
Huck tucked Laurel in closer to his body. A log popped on the fire. The cat lifted its head, gave one unimpressed blink, and settled back down onto the dog’s flank.
“The feds convinced her to drop the case,” Laurel admitted. “So Abigail would tell them more about the compound. Where the other canisters were hidden in the main lab.”
“She knew?” Huck asked, voice flat.
“Yeah. She knew.” Laurel had just been filled in by the Seattle office.
Agent Norrs was still in the hospital but should be released in a day or so.
Laurel stared at the screen. Abigail’s face filled the frame now, calm, poised, well-practiced.
“It makes you wonder what else she has up her sleeve, doesn’t it? ”
Huck swallowed some of his cabernet. “This gives Tamera a higher profile, too. She’s the one who ‘cleared’ Abigail. It looks good from every angle. Right here, we have a real bipartisan redemption arc.”
“It worked out for everybody,” Laurel said. “Except for Zeke Caine. Not that he deserved to die, but he did deserve to go to prison.”
“Double jeopardy attaches,” Huck muttered. “Abigail can’t be tried for murdering Zeke again.”
“Not for the death of Zeke Caine,” Laurel agreed. “But we still have two or three other cases open against her. She’s not going to win in the end, Huck. She can’t.”
He didn’t respond.
On the screen, Abigail looked directly at the camera.
There was the hint of a smile that wasn’t quite smug.
It was more like she’d already read the last page of the entire story and knew the rest of them hadn’t caught up yet.
“I would also like to thank and note the bravery of my sister, FBI Special Agent in Charge Laurel Snow.”
Laurel didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Huck didn’t either. The silence in the room stretched, brittle and tight. Even the fire seemed to lean in.
“After we escaped that hideous lab,” Abigail said, her voice silky, “Laurel went back in by herself and took on people who had guns and explosives and a deadly pathogen that would’ve fried her brain. She is truly, truly brave and should be commended.”
Rachel lost her smile. It disappeared slowly, like a camera lens pulling out of focus. “Oh. I totally agree,” she said. “Such bravery is . . . impressive.”
“Then there’s the handsome Huck Rivers,” Abigail added, winking. “Talk about a crack shot.”
Huck winced. “Sometimes I just don’t know what we’re going to do about her.”
“I don’t either.” Laurel reached for the remote and clicked the screen off. Just like that, Abigail was gone. The fire still burned. The cat blinked. The dog snored. “Enough of that. There’s nothing we can do right now. We’ll pursue the other cases against her as soon as we can.”
Huck chuckled and leaned back against the couch. “Who the hell knows what else is out there? If she was tied up in this, she could be tied up in anything.”
“Yes. Abigail is cocky and arrogant and likes attention. That makes her reckless.” Laurel snuggled closer into Huck’s side. She felt the weight of him, warm and real and exactly where he should be. “I think I should speak with Walter about taking his time with Ena. They just started dating.”
Huck chuckled. “That’s totally up to you. I’m staying out of it.”
Laurel exhaled. She’d worry about that talk at another date. “Also, I invited Kate and the girls over for a barbecue tomorrow. Same with Walter and Ena. I hope it’s okay.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Of course it’s okay.”
She caught something in his tone. Something unspoken. Not quite doubt. More like . . . waiting. She turned and looked at him, really looked at him. Took in those ridiculous honey bourbon eyes that always felt like they could look right through her.
“Yes,” she said. “I accept your proposal to live together.”
His eyes widened slightly, then softened.
“I would still like to build that barndominium over on my mom’s property,” Laurel continued, “but we could build it to your specifications, if you like. And then we can decide where to live.”
“That sounds like a plan, Special Agent Laurel Snow.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Not polite. Not tentative. Deep. Certain.
She kissed him back and let herself feel those emotions she usually kept locked down in a steel box under ten layers of rationality. She let them move. For once, she didn’t care if they made sense. She didn’t have to.
They were going to live together. Plan a future together. She filled with warmth. “I do love you, Huck Rivers.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too. It’s not chemical, anthropological, or biological. It’s the real kind.”
She didn’t understand it, but she believed him.
The fire crackled. The rain fell. Somewhere in the background, the cat rolled over and kicked the dog in its sleep. Huck’s hand slid to her waist, and Laurel let her head rest on his shoulder.
She had no idea what the future held. Had no clue what Abigail would do next, or what cases would land on her desk next week. But she knew Huck Rivers would be a solid force in that future with her.
For right now, that was more than enough.
He just might be her reason as well.