“Go ahead, but I believe he might be seeing somebody.” Laurel kept her voice level with effort. She’d apparently grown attached to Huck and hadn’t liked seeing him with his ex the other night. She especially didn’t like that they’d been discussing her case and that facts had ended up in the news.

“Oh, my.” Abigail’s eyes gleamed. “Is that jealousy I see in your perfect eyes?”

They had the same eyes. “I don’t think so.” Laurel frowned. “I want him to be happy, and he says he wants to be alone, so I guess I should be concerned for him?”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to be with you,” Abigail drawled. “That’s the logical conclusion, no?”

Apparently so.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Huck strode toward Laurel’s office, a coffee carrier in his hand and file folders tucked beneath his arm. He paused at the darkened computer room. “Happy Monday morning. I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you the special. Honey-oat latte.” He handed the cup to Nester as Aeneas padded past him to dive into the conference room.

The kid grinned and took the coffee while some sort of program ran on the monitor behind him. “Thanks, man. I like any latte so long as it isn’t peppermint.” He shuddered. “Worst ever. Who drinks that?”

Pretty much everybody. “How was the concert?”

Nester took a drink. “Excellent.”

“Good.” Huck moved on down the hall to the conference room, where Laurel was once again perched on the glass table staring at pictures on the wall. She’d added the mayor, both his kids, and the neighbor kid as suspects. There was another man, this one with bushy red hair and green eyes, also posted. “Morris Lamber?” The picture had been printed out from what looked like the college directory.

“Yes.” Her tone was curt.

He handed her the chai latte. “I want to explain about Saturday night.” Although he didn’t owe her an explanation.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” She kept her gaze on the pictures and picked up the latte. “It’s not right, is it?”

He looked at the board. “None of this is right.”

“We don’t have enough.” She sighed. Today she wore black slacks and sweater over a white button-down shirt, looking professional and smart. Her earrings were blue butterflies, though.

“Nice earrings.” Why did he even notice something like that? He took a gulp of his triple cappuccino.

She didn’t smile. “Thank you. My mother gave them to me. They’re supposed to create light and protection.”

Of course they were. “I met with Rachel because she had information on the case. Her source told her that Sharon Lamber was having an affair—quite possibly with her brother-in-law. Our good ole mayor.”