“I can only imagine their questions. How many blondes did you see in the last week?”

“True blondes or does that include bottle blondes?” she asked absently, her mind returning to the recent murder. How in the world was the victim by the river connected to Abigail Caine? This killing felt too close to home.

“Both.”

She would have to interview Abigail again as soon as they had an identification of the victim. “Forty-seven if you count three women with blondish-gray hair. I haven’t attended any gatherings lately and remained close to my mother’s farm during the holidays.” She cleared her throat. “I require additional agents to work this case, and I’d prefer an agent with tracking experience.” Then she wouldn’t have to rely on Huck Rivers.

“I’ll see what I can do, but from what I understand, you’re already working with the best of the best.” He sipped loudly at his drink. “You definitely need more muscle on the team. Smudgeon is on his last legs, according to his latest physical.”

She’d have to see about that. While Walter had had some issues during his last assignment in Portland, he’d been helpful during the Snowblood Peak case. “Walter is a good addition to the team. He has experience and knowledge, and he is well versed in procedure.” Was there a way to institute an exercise regimen for the team? Walter wouldn’t like it. “Let me know about possible new hires.”

“I will. I also wanted to give you a heads up about a potential political issue.”

Laurel groaned. “Also send me somebody who can deal with potential political issues. That is not my forte.”

“I’m well aware. The head of the Seattle field office is making waves because I’m thinking about creating this unit in Genesis Valley, and I might appoint you the lead. He wanted the new unit to run out of Seattle, under his command. His problem is that the last case was too close to you, considering your half sister and all. So as long as she’s not involved in any other cases and you keep it all professional, we’re good.”

Laurel’s chin dropped. “Well, since you mentioned Abigail . . .”

* * *

Laurel slipped across the icy porch with its myriad of wind chimes freezing beneath the eaves and stepped into her mother’s warm home. “Mom? I’m home.”

“Dinner is almost ready. I hope you’re hungry,” Deidre called from the kitchen.

“I had a late lunch but could eat again.” Laurel shook off her outerwear and padded in her thick socks through the living room to the kitchen, which was the hub of her mom’s quaint farmhouse. “Something smells delicious. Crock-Pot chili?”