“Bummed. I needed the money.” He twirled the pen around in his fingers. “Plus, I was doing good at it. My age shouldn’t make a difference, right? I mean, in any scientific study, don’t they want the broadest range of subjects? You’d think age wouldn’t be part of it. Totally unfair, man.”

Not only that, but the study created a direct line from Davie to Abigail, who was a potential victim. “That would’ve made me angry, Davie.”

He nodded. “Yeah. She was all calm like and just dropped me as if I was nothing. I told her everything about me. She knows me better than I know me, probably.” He stared at Laurel’s eyes. “And she’s a liar. She looked blond with blue eyes and she really was a redhead with freaky eyes. Who is she to judge anybody?” His throat moved as he swallowed. “No offense.”

“None taken.” So Davie had a connection to both Sharon and now Abigail. “Did Tommy take part in this study?”

“No. He doesn’t need money,” Davie muttered.

Was there any connection between the boys and either Charlene Rox or Christine Franklin? “Have you ever seen a psychiatrist?”

“God, no. I’m not crazy,” Davie said.

“Has Tommy?” Laurel asked.

Davie shrugged. “Maybe when he was up at the youth ranch, but he didn’t say anything about that.”

Dr. Rox hadn’t worked up at the youth ranch. Laurel opened a file folder from her stack to reveal photographs of Charlene and Christine. “Do you recognize these women?”

“No,” Davie said, staring at the victims. “I’m sorry.”

Laurel ran Davie through a few more questions and then decided it was time to let him go. “Haylee will drop you off at school. You need to stop being truant, okay?” At his nod, she smiled at Haylee. “I accept your offer to look through the greenhouse this afternoon. Can you meet there around two?”

“Yes.” Haylee’s smile was wide. “Looking forward to it.”

No doubt. Laurel stood and walked them out before returning to her office.

Abigail sat in Laurel’s chair on the other side of the makeshift desk, typing into her phone. “You need a decent desk. I have a sliver from touching this old door.” She didn’t look up.

“Remove yourself from my chair.”

Abigail sighed and unfolded herself from the white leather, standing to at least five foot nine in her dark red high heels. She crossed gracefully around the desk to sit in a guest chair.

It shouldn’t bother Laurel that her sister was so much taller than her own five foot two, and yet, it did. She hid the discomfort by claiming her chair and looking at her frozen screen. “You tried to hack into my computer.”