Christine chewed on her muted pink lipstick. “Maybe? I couldn’t find my light pink bra the other day, but I assumed the dryer had eaten it or something. I should go through the house and check, shouldn’t I.” She said it as a statement rather than a question.

“Yes.” Laurel’s heartbeat ticked up. “All the more reason to put you in a safe house, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Christine blanched. “I’m willing to stay in a safe house, but I’d still need to go to work.”

“Can you take a sabbatical?” Walter asked. “This is serious, and you’re in danger.”

Christine looked down at her phone, which lay innocuously on the table. “Yes, I suppose I could. I wouldn’t mind a reprieve, and I have so much paperwork to catch up on. I could do that remotely. In fact, I might like the break from dealing with . . . people.”

Walter grinned. “I understand that.” His jowls moved as he talked, and it looked like his hair had thinned. How sick had he been?

“Good.” Snow melted off Laurel’s boots to the floor. “Do you have any sort of relationship with Dr. Sharon Lamber, Dr. Charlene Rox, or Dr. Abigail Caine?”

Christine blew out air. “Sounds like a lot of female doctors.” She rubbed her ear. “I do not know Sharon Lamber or Abigail Caine, but Charlene Rox had privileges at our hospital and I met her a few times.”

Laurel straightened. Dr. Rox was a psychiatrist, so it made sense she had privileges. “Did she have an office at the hospital?”

Christine shrugged. “I assume so. I could find out for you, if you like. I believe she only consulted periodically at the hospital and actually had her own practice somewhere else. As such, she probably shared an office or a workspace at Pac-Western.”

“We’re still trying to get a feel for her life before she, ah, left work,” Walter said.

“Before she fled this killer.” Christine paled and her hand shook when she reached for her phone. “I’ll make sure you have access to anywhere Dr. Rox worked at the hospital.” She fired off a quick text.

Walter patted her arm. “I can see that you’re terrified, but you don’t need to be. We’ll keep you safe.” He looked at Laurel, his hangdog eyes earnest. “Right, boss?” At Laurel’s nod, he continued. “How about we go to your place and pack a bag, and then I’ll drive you to the FBI office in Seattle? We’ll arrange for a safe house for you there, and we’ll make sure nobody follows us. All right?”

Christine nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you.” She wiped off her lipstick. A nervous tic?

Laurel tilted her head. “Dr. Abigail Caine lives in the same subdivision as you.”

“Is she dead as well?” Christine whispered.

“No,” Laurel said.