Kate groaned. “It was terrible, but if you read between the lines, I think Huck probably didn’t say anything like she inferred.”

“The point is that Huck spoke with her. With a reporter about an ongoing case.” Laurel’s throat ached from needing to yell. “We don’t agree on how to handle this series of murders, and I’m furious he might have hindered our investigation. Women are dying.”

“True. On that note, I’m going to bed. Get some sleep, friend. ’Night.”

“Good night.” Laurel pressed the end button on the dash. Friend? It was nice to have a friend. The sky had cleared but darkness shrouded the trees up ahead. She shivered and drove the freshly plowed Birch Tree Road, knowing she needed to sleep. This anger inside her was new. Logic usually ruled. Yet she took a turn she knew better than to take right now and barreled up a long and windy driveway to park in front of a log house fronting yet another river. This was a mistake.

She slipped out of the car with as minimal movement as possible and ducked her head against the frigid air. The walkway had been shoveled, so she easily made her way to the door. Before she could knock, it opened. “You asshole.”

Huck moved to the side. “Hi.”

She walked in, noting the fire rumbling in the fireplace and the television showing an old Ingrid Bergman movie.

“How’s Walter?” Huck shut the door and warmth surrounded her.

“It was rough, but he made it through.” She turned to face him. “You, on the other hand, are about to get kicked in the head. Why in the world would you talk to Rachel again? What’s her hold over you?”

“I don’t have any feelings left for Rachel, if that’s what you mean. I was just trying to do my job.” He looked like a solid force in a tumultuous world. Broad chest, long legs, piercing eyes. More than a day’s scruff covered his chiseled jaw, and he was utterly and enticingly male. “I didn’t say anything that would lead her to make such a report or say such things about you.”

“That’s not the damn point, Huck.” It was shocking how badly she wanted to punch him in the nose and leave a bump there for all eternity. She wasn’t a woman who lost control of her emotions. Ever.

“What’s the damn point, then?” He towered over her, his eyes flaring.

“The point is that you shouldn’t have talked to her at all. She ran with that one little fact. I told you not to talk to her.” The words rolled out of her mouth so quickly she had to stop and take a breath.

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Told me? You told me?”

“Yes,” she snapped.