“Her name is Jennie Smith and she teaches at Seattle University. She’s an old friend but that’s all. Not married and didn’t want anything beyond that night with me.” Another tear leaked from Morris’s eye, and his face began to puff up. “One stupid night. That’s all it takes to ruin everything.”

Huck’s expression hadn’t altered. “What did you and Sharon argue about before you left for your conference and broke your wedding vows?”

Laurel blinked. Was there judgment in that statement?

Morris sniffed again. “I don’t remember. It was about something stupid. Something about her dumb nephew. Kid got into trouble, and his folks finally put some restrictions on him, making him pay restitution or whatever. The kid was supposed to weed our lawn and prepare it for winter to make some cash, and he didn’t do the job. Yet she wanted to pay the little shit anyway.”

Laurel sat up straighter. “Her nephew? Would this be Tommy Bearing?”

Morris nodded. “Yeah. Both those kids are spoiled brats if you ask me. Even the lawyer.”

“Do you know why Tommy was in trouble?” Laurel had to acquire his juvenile record.

“No. The mayor had that hushed up fast. If Sharon knew, she didn’t tell me.” Morris leaned toward them, his gaze intent. “That kid’s rotten, I tell you. Sharon hinted that he’d been in trouble before, but that’s all I know.” He dropped his head into his hands. “We didn’t pay him, and the next day, somebody egged our house and slashed my tires. Kid swore up and down it wasn’t him, but seriously. Of course, it was him.”

Laurel looked at Huck. That was interesting. He nodded.

“We need to get those juvenile records,” Huck murmured.

They still didn’t have enough for a warrant. “I have an idea for another source of information,” Laurel said. “I’ll call Kate later tonight and see if she can help. It’s a long shot, but we’ll see.”

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Laurel finished the dishes after eating dinner with her mother and then joined her in the knitting room, where she sat and let her hands go to work. Her knitting foundation, which supplied booties and hats for premature newborns, was running smoothly, and she’d turned over the finances to a firm in New York. It took her a moment to realize her mother hadn’t spoken much during dinner. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Deidre started knitting and didn’t elaborate.

That was odd. While Laurel rarely caught social cues, her mother was not acting as she normally did. “Mom? Is something wrong?”

Deidre paused. “I don’t know.”

Laurel slowed the movement of her knitting needles. “What don’t you know?”