“Right.” Huck drank more of his coffee. “I guess physics would be in some of those disciplines. So tell me why somebody would stalk a woman until she hid in the woods and then find her, smash in her face, and cut off her hands.”

“Anything I said would be conjecture at this point.” Laurel took a drink of the latte. Staggers used excellent chai—it was just spicy enough. “At first glance, it appeared the killer wanted to hide the victim’s identity, which means he could be tied to her somehow. Then with the flowers at Abigail’s house, he created more than one possible crime scene and way to track him. To find the hands of the victim just waiting on a tree stump is . . . odd.”

“What could it signify?” He glanced in the back at his dog and then returned his focus to the snowy road.

That was an excellent question. “He has a problem with hands? He wanted to confound us?” She thought back to the crime scene. “There were no hesitation marks, but with an ax, there probably wouldn’t be. This might’ve been his first kill.” Laurel settled more comfortably in the seat. “He didn’t want her hands and didn’t care if we found them. So why take her hands in the first place?” There were a few reasons she could think of immediately, but psychopaths didn’t think linearly. “Perhaps she fought him and got in a good punch, so he took her hands. Or maybe he has a fetish for hands or severed wrists. I have no way of knowing.”

“Any idea why Dr. Ortega wants to meet us in person instead of giving us his report over the phone?”

Laurel started. “No. Why?”

“Because he was emphatic about it and said that you had to be present.” Huck cut her a look, his eyes a deep sepia in the morning light. “Care to explain?”

The hair sprang up on the back of her neck. Instinct whispered that this was one of those proverbial land mines, and she’d never been able to navigate them. Yet it was a noticeable improvement that she even recognized it as such. “I don’t have an explanation, and your tone lowered two decibels when you asked the question, so I surmise there’s a hidden meaning or question there. Would you please clarify that for me?”

He shot her a look from the corner of his eye. With his dark hair falling over his ears, he looked like a dangerous mountain man. The kind of male Kate would call a hot badass. “My voice did not lower.”

“Yes, it did.” She tilted her head, trying to dig deep into his. What was this about?

His chest filled and then he slowly exhaled. “I just need to know if there’s anything going on that will screw up my investigation. Anything between you and Ortega.”