“Captain Rivers,” Laurel said, sitting straighter in her chair and once again regretting the fact that she’d attended college during her early teens, when she should’ve been learning how to navigate social situations and deal with the opposite sex. “What can I do for you?”

“Huck. The formality is irritating considering we’ve seen each other naked.” He stood in the doorway, filling the entire space, his body long and lean with a barrel of muscular chest.

She schooled her expression. What was the appropriate reaction? Irritation, embarrassment, humor? She didn’t know. “Why are you here?”

Stubble from a couple of days covered his jaw, snow dotted the black hair that curled beneath his ears, and nothing dimmed the topaz glint of his deep brown eyes. A pair of black gloves peeked out from his jacket pocket. “Monty passed this case to me, so I thought we’d get a handle on it fast. Is it going to go south?”

“Yes.” She gestured to one of the white chairs on the other side of the desk.

One of his dark eyebrows rose and he walked to take the chair, his bulk more than filling it. He wore faded jeans, a black shirt, and a F&W green jacket. “Dr. Ortega promised to prioritize the autopsy and should have preliminary findings to us by tomorrow morning. I don’t think that man sleeps.”

“Good.” Laurel turned the laptop so they could both see it. “If we don’t find this killer quickly, none of us are going to sleep for quite some time.” The words rang through her and she shivered. “This video is from the security cameras around Dr. Abigail Caine’s home.”

Huck frowned. “What does this have to do with our case?”

Laurel pushed play.

The screen filled with a night scene captured by a camera that must’ve been mounted near Abigail’s garage, pointed toward the walkway and lawn. Snow drizzled down, mixing with rain. A figure moved smoothly along the walk and then onto the snowy grass, a dark backpack over one shoulder.

“Not a great picture,” Huck muttered.

The infrared wasn’t bad but the snow made the video blurry. “Broad shoulders,” Laurel said, squinting to see better. “About five foot ten or eleven, maybe?” A stocking mask covered the figure’s head and face, and bulky clothing, gloves, and thick boots shielded the rest of the body.

“Could be a woman,” Huck said, watching closely. “Best guess is male though.”

“Agreed.” Laurel sat back as the figure took objects out of the pack and placed them around the front lawn, almost gleefully throwing them in every direction.

Huck breathed out loudly. “Don’t tell me. Those are black dahlias?”