Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Laurel reached for her phone and called Huck. “We have to get Dr. Yannish back in here but I’m coming up short. So far, the evidence teams haven’t found anything from the lab that will give me probable cause. No records of another lab.” Her mind spun confusion around. “I forgot to tell you that Tim Kohnex was here earlier saying the wind is whispering about Viv. It’s a long shot, but if we don’t find anything else, I guess we should interview him.” He lived in the far opposite direction of the yew trees, but he had mentioned tires in the wind.
Unless Laurel was wrong. What if Tyler had been warning Walter about something else? Why wasn’t this case coming together?
“Okay. We haven’t searched that direction yet,” Huck said. “I’m still on the phone with aviation and will be up in a few. You haven’t eaten all day. Ena picked up sandwiches from the deli and I’ll bring one up to you.”
“Thanks.” Laurel clicked off absently. She cocked her head. Then she swung her legs onto the table and stood, looking down at all the pictures from a different angle. She’d placed one of Agent Norrs on the sniper case board where he looked tall and formidable. Abigail had kept her updated all day, and he was no longer in critical condition and would make a full recovery.
The board morphed in front of Laurel’s eyes.
Wait a minute. Fascinating. She jumped down and approached the boards, taking Abigail’s photo off her board and putting it on the sniper board next to the one of Norrs. The sniper had hit Abigail the first time. Could Abigail have been the actual target?
Then Laurel took Dr. Matteo Sandoval’s picture off the lab board and taped it onto the sniper’s board.
What if the sniper had hit who he wanted? What if he hadn’t actually missed? What if Laurel wasn’t even the target?
Abigail and Sandoval. Plus, Abigail had been in Laurel’s office during the third shooting. Why would somebody want both Abigail and Dr. Sandoval dead?
“Hello there,” Abigail said smoothly from behind her.
Laurel jumped and spun around, her heart racing. “How did you get up here?”
Abigail snorted. “Please. I secured a badge the first week you installed it. Did you really think you could keep me out?”
Laurel glanced to her right to see Henry Vexler, his gaze on the boards. “You brought your attorney.”
“I did.” Abigail smiled, moving her painted red lips. “I thought we might reach an agreement.”
Laurel glanced back at the sniper board. “You have degrees in biochemistry and neuroscience,” she said slowly.
“I do.” Abigail read the board. “I see what you’re doing here.”
Vexler frowned. “I don’t. Also, if you don’t have access to this floor, we shouldn’t be here. It’s a federal building, Abigail.”
Abigail barely looked at him. “Don’t be a dumbass, Henry. You’re here to make me a deal. Well, the beginning of one. We need to meet with the county prosecutor about my case after we secure my sister’s assistance. Time truly is of the essence.”
Heat flushed down Laurel’s torso. “The sniper meant to hit you at the courthouse that first day.”
“Yep,” Abigail chirped. “Chalk one up for Wayne. That vest saved my life.”
Laurel breathed out. She couldn’t believe she’d missed this. “You work for Oakridge Solutions.”
Abigail sighed. “Really, Laurel? You’re slow sometimes. I merely consulted with the offshoot of the labs. For a nice sum of money, actually.”
The hidden lab? “Where’s the lab?”
Abigail’s tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. “That information is going to cost you. Cost the county, really.”
Fire shot through Laurel. She didn’t lose her temper, ever, unless Abigail was around. It was frightening, really. “Tyler Griggs warned Walter via a letter about some sort of attack.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “No. They’re really going to do it? Really try out a bioweapon? I didn’t even know for sure they’d created it. Oh, no. We’d better get a deal in place fast.” She looked at Vexler. “I think you should call the county prosecutor right now, and we’ll hammer it all out here in the conference room. Time is of the essence if they’re going to test that concoction.”
“Tell me about the concoction,” Laurel hissed.
“I don’t think so.” Henry Vexler drew a handgun from the inside pocket of his jacket with a slow, practiced motion—showing no urgency, no panic, just the chilling efficiency of someone who’d done this before. The weapon was matte black, thick-barreled, and unnervingly quiet in its presence alone. A suppressor was already threaded onto the front, giving the gun an elongated, ghostly silhouette. He raised it, casual but certain, leveling it between Abigail and Laurel. “I’m way too close to miss this time, ladies.”
Laurel recognized it instantly as an HK USP Tactical, built for special operations. It was a professional’s weapon with a threaded barrel, high-profile sights, match trigger. Wait a minute. How was this even possible? “You? You’re the sniper?” The high-priced lawyer?