He glanced at the boards. “I thought my diplomas and certificates should go on that wall. I mean, if we stay in this office, which is pretty cool.”

That made sense, and no doubt he had many. She needed to make a decision about her job. “Do you snowboard often?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah. It’s my passion and has been since I was like eight years old.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have two older brothers who were star athletes in pretty much every sport they tried, and I sucked. I’m much more interested in computers and gaming, except when I’m on a board on the snow, letting gravity take over. Then I’m just as good as they are, if not better.” He jerked his head toward the boards. “Have the scars to prove it.”

“Is that why you chose to be in this unit?” She’d taken a look at his personnel file, and with his marks, he could’ve gone anywhere.

“Home is in Tacoma, and this is close to home but with even better ski hills.” He glanced at his screen. “Also, I was interested in you and this new unit. You did an amazing job with the Snowblood killer, and I figured this job would keep me on my toes so I wouldn’t get bored. If the FBI makes this permanent, I figure we’ll be traveling soon as well, since we’re specialized, and I like to travel with somebody else footing the bill.”

All good points.

He stiffened and then reached for the keyboard. “Here we go. Let me run a quick . . . yeah . . . algorithm . . . just to see . . .” He typed faster than he spoke, his fingers flying. Then he sat back. “Aha.”

“Aha?” She moved toward the weathered door that served as a desk for his computer.

“Yeah.” He typed again. “There’s a number that comes up a lot in Sharon’s phone that just stopped showing up three weeks ago. Let me see who this belongs to . . .”

She cocked her head. “You can trace phone numbers now?”

“Yep. Had the techs hook me up, helped them make it better, and figured it was all good. I do have clearance, right?” He leaned forward. “All right. Sharon Lamber spoke with a Dr. Joseph Keyes at least three times a day for a couple of months, often way into the night. Let’s see who this guy is.” He typed again and then whistled. “A quick Google search shows Dr. Joseph Keyes as a premier cardiac surgeon.”

“At Pacific Western Hospital?” Laurel asked.

Nester nodded.

Laurel turned on her snow boot and ran down the hallway, clomping loudly. She barreled into the reception area, ignored Kate’s gasp, and leaped down the stairs into the vestibule. She skidded through loose snow as she shoved open the outside door, sliding across ice and scrambling to catch her balance.