“Yeah, but there’s snow down my damn pants,” Huck muttered. “I’m glad I didn’t wear the tactical holster on my thigh today.” He reached to the left of his waist and checked his gun. “All good.” Then he glanced at a series of worn couches and chairs near the windows. Students were scattered around, reading or taking notes. His gaze scanned a nearby directory. “Morris is on the first floor, probably that way.” He pointed down a long hallway with closed office doors.

A small deli was up ahead, and to the left were what looked like study or conference rooms.

Laurel tucked her gloves in her pocket and double-checked that her weapon was safe in her shoulder holster as she glanced at the directory. “Let’s see if he’s in.”

“Sounds good.” Huck stomped more snow off his boots onto the rubber mat.

Laurel led the way down the cement hallway, stopping at office 109, where she knocked on the forest-green metal door.

“Come in,” a male voice said.

She opened the door. “Dr. Lamber?”

“That’s me.” Dr. Lamber looked up from the other side of a metal desk, his hair a wild red mass around his pudgy face. His skin was sallow with dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes. A bulging bookshelf took up the entire left wall and filing cabinets covered the opposite wall of the narrow space. A window showed the forest behind the professor. “What can I do for you?”

Laurel walked inside toward two red plastic chairs and introduced herself and Huck.

The professor motioned for them to sit. He pushed aside the papers in front of him, making his desk, littered with other papers, coffee cups, and fast-food wrappers, even messier. “I already talked to the Genesis Valley sheriff, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.” His eyes watered and his hands shook.

Laurel sat, trying not to wince as more snow slid down her freezing spine. “We’re very sorry for your loss, Dr. Lamber.”

“Thanks, and please call me Morris. My mother was Dr. Lamber.” Morris sat back even farther and his chair protested with a squeak. “Do you have any leads yet?”

“Maybe,” Laurel said as Aeneas flopped on her boots again. Why did the animal like to lie on her feet all the time? “Morris, do you have any inkling of who could’ve wanted your wife dead?”

Morris shook his head. “None whatsoever. Well, except maybe the guy she was cheating on me with. I’d love to know that bastard’s name.” Though the words were angry, no emotion colored his face. Was he in shock? “Have you figured out who it is?”

Huck settled his bulk on the chair. “How do you know she was having an affair?”