Chapter 2

The body lay yards from Iceberg River at the base of Snowblood Peak, face down, frozen to the unforgiving ground. Standing at the edge of the parking area, Laurel shivered and stared up at the mountainous peak with its jagged edges rising high into the fierce gray clouds. "We seem to have come full circle," she murmured.

FBI agent Walter Smudgeon shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the body. "The way up and the way down are one and the same."

Laurel looked over at her partner. "Heraclitus?"

Red tinged his broad cheeks. In his midfifties, he had intelligent hazel eyes and thinning gray hair that he'd lately begun to style with gel. "I've been reading a lot these days. Ena likes philosophy."

Fascinating. Walter had been shot in an earlier case, and he'd decided to invest in a longer existence, exercising his wounded body to a healthy muscle mass, dedicating himself to a new romantic interest, and apparently studying philosophy. Ena was a Fish and Wildlife officer who worked under Huck, and Walter seemed to adore her.

Laurel noted the state crime scene techs setting up a tent over the body, close to the broken ice. "Heraclitus also said that one cannot step twice in the same river."

"Huh," Walter said. "Haven't read that one. Those thoughts seem to contradict each other."

"They're compatible statements." Laurel angled her head for a better view. The victim had longish blond hair and was still fully dressed in a short black wool coat, dark jeans, and scuffed brown boots. She appeared to be a female in decent shape. "Everything flows and nothing stays."

Walter reached into his back pocket to draw out a pair of thick gloves. "Who said that?"

"Plato, but I believe he paraphrased Heraclitus."

Walter settled shiny and unscuffed snow boots on the icy ground. "So it's about the river? The movement of the water beneath the ice versus solid ground?"

Her current proximity to the victim prevented a detailed analysis of the possible crime scene. "Our perception is subjective, as is any conclusion when becoming philosophical."

He gestured for her to precede him. "Who said that?"

"Me." Having been given a wave from the crime scene tech dressed in thick white coveralls, Laurel gingerly picked her way across the rough terrain, her rugged boots finding purchase on the ice. "Philosophy involves asking questions with few true answers." Which had always irritated her to no end.

Every question should have an answer. In fact, each one most certainly did, even if she couldn't find it. She slipped, and Walter instantly grasped her arm, straightening her. "Thank you."

"No problem. You'd think we'd be finished with the snow and ice, considering it's April first," he grumbled, walking closer to her now.

She shrugged. "We're thousands of feet above ocean level, Walter." At least the snow might melt soon down in the town of Genesis Valley. "We're fortunate snowmobilers found the body."

"Huh. The body is just a short distance away from the parking area. Somebody would've found her."

They reached the now-tented area just as the wind increased in force, blowing Laurel's hair away from her face. Her breath caught from the cold as she crouched to better study the body. "There are no obvious signs of murder, and she still has her hands." Jason Abbott had liked to cut off the hands of his victims, but he'd had an ax easily available each time.

Unlike now.

Fish and Wildlife Captain Monty Buckley stepped out of a rig in the parking area and strode toward them, his countenance pale from recent cancer radiation treatments. "I radioed Huck to fill him in as he drove. He's on his way now." Monty walked gingerly, his movements jerky.

Laurel stood. "Did Huck find the missing person?"

Monty shivered in the cold, even though he wore a heavy jacket and gloves. "Yeah. They found the old guy not too far from the retirement home, with hypothermia and possible frostbite. He's alive at least."

So Huck would be in a good mood. The man blamed himself when he couldn't save a victim, and even though that was irrational, Laurel could empathize.

Monty gestured to the body. "Her head and torso are on federal land, and her waist and legs are on state land. This is a weird one, for sure. So I figured we'd share jurisdiction." He motioned toward a younger Fish and Wildlife officer taking photographs near the tree line. "Tso, get over here."

The man let his camera hang over his neck and walked toward them, his black eyes intense. Frozen chips of ice dotted his longish black hair, showing he'd been photographing the area within the trees. He wore an F&W jacket over jeans and thick boots. "I shot the full scene and took extra photographs of the cracked ice over the river. There's blood on the edges, and the techs captured samples before the ice melted." He smiled at Laurel. "You must be Laurel Snow. I've heard about you."

"I am." She held out a gloved hand to shake. Huck had mentioned the new officer, but she hadn't met him.

Monty provided the introductions. "Laurel Snow, please meet Qaletaga Tso, fresh from Arizona. You know? Where there's actually some sun and not constant winter?"

That might possibly be sarcasm, but Laurel couldn't read the tone. Perhaps Monty was dreaming of a trip to a warm beach resort. She and Huck had planned to vacation in Cabo, but work kept interrupting. The new officer appeared to be Native American, and if she remembered correctly, Qaletaga was a Hopi name. "It's nice to meet you."

Officer Tso released her and held out a hand to Walter. "You as well."

"Walter Smudgeon," Walter said. "I bet you miss the sun. Like Monty, I'm seriously tired of the gray skies but am going to have to put my vacation on hold."

Tso grinned, showing perfectly symmetrical features. "Vacation?"

"Yeah." Walter sighed. "My girlfriend won a sunny two-week vacation from her church's raffle a week ago, and we had planned to leave this afternoon."

Laurel studied the victim. "You are maintaining your departure schedule." The man was recovering from multiple gunshot wounds, and although he appeared healthier than ever, he needed this break from murder. "I have backup, and if I need you, I'll call."

Walter frowned. "Fine. Welcome to the team, Qaletaga Tso."

"Thanks." Officer Tso stared up at Snowblood Peak. "I've recently taken up snowmobiling, so I'm enjoying myself in Washington State so far. I have my diving certification but have never plunged into icy waters like this." He looked over his shoulder at the frigid water. "I suppose since we found blood on the ice we'll need to do a dive?"

"That's up to Huck." Monty straightened as two of the techs brought over small flat shovels. "Good. They're going to turn her over. Let's see what we can find."

Laurel's stomach rolled. As the head of the FBI's PNVCU, she was accustomed to crime scenes. However, because she was eleven or so weeks pregnant, HCG and estrogen hormones were causing unexpected nausea. She drew in several frigid breaths and exhaled through her mouth, attempting to calm her autonomic nervous system to prevent her from vomiting all over Walter's new boots.

"You okay, boss?" Walter asked.

She must've paled. "Yes. The wind is chilly." She and Huck hadn't informed anybody about the pregnancy other than Laurel's mother. They'd agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret until she reached the safer second trimester. Although Huck's paternal overprotectiveness would probably alert the ones closest to them soon. She accepted that characteristic in him.

The team moved a foot away from the body to allow the techs to gingerly scrape away ice. "Monty? Detail the scene for me, please," Laurel said.

"The first is the cracking of the ice over the water with blood found on the edges," Monty said. "The action was deliberate, which could indicate that the deceased broke the ice and tried to jump in, but in that case . . ."

"Who pulled the body to the bank and away from the river?" Walter finished for him.

Monty nodded. "Exactly."

Laurel bent to study the body. Jason Abbott had been furious the night before—he might've killed the first victim he could find. "We'll proceed as if this is a homicide considering the blood on the ice and the fact that somebody dragged the body away from the water."

A truck rumbled from behind her, and she turned to see Huck pull to a stop and jump out. He opened the back door and let out his Karelian Bear Dog. Aeneas leaped gracefully to the ground, still wearing his search and rescue vest, his black-and-white markings adorable. Then the two walked toward them, both slightly wild and very sure-footed.

Huck's gaze swept her from head to toes, no doubt making sure she'd properly dressed for the weather. His protectiveness toward the female carrying his progeny was no doubt strongly rooted in biology and evolutionary psychology. Or perhaps that was just Huck.

He stood tall and broad, filling out his Fish and Wildlife jacket with natural muscle. His hair was a dark brown, his eyes a mellow topaz, his bone structure strong and symmetrical. He wore faded jeans and black boots, and the dog looked natural at his side. "You said we share jurisdiction with the FBI?"

Monty nodded. "Yeah."

Huck's focus had already moved to the cracked ice, and he headed toward the river.

Laurel shifted into motion, noting he slowed his pace until she reached his side. "What do you see?"

"The ice." They reached the edge of the bank, and he put his body slightly between her and the river. "Watch your step." Then he dropped to his haunches as Aeneas sat at his side. "Something sharp cut through this part." He pointed to several jagged edges. "There's blood."

"The techs collected samples." Officer Tso came up behind them. "Do we need to dive?"

Huck stood. "I don't want anybody going beneath that ice. The river is moving faster than you think." He turned to face Monty. "Let's use Polar Paul first, and then if it finds something, I'll consider a dive."

"Polar Paul?" Officer Tso asked.

Huck gestured Laurel ahead of him on the small trail, no doubt so he could catch her if she slipped. "Yeah. Our autonomous underwater vehicle which we just redesigned with enhanced insulation to deal with ice-cold bodies of water."

Laurel had never understood the need to name objects, but she appreciated the alliteration of "Polar" and "Paul." She strode across the ground to the tent covering the body. So far, they didn't have a cause of death. The bloody ice covering the woman's face was beginning to fall off in chunks.

Huck stepped up to Laurel's side. "You think Jason Abbott killed her?"

"It's certainly possible." Laurel squinted to see better. The victim's eyes were closed. "Is that foam around her mouth?"

Officer Tso leaned in and began clicking photographs. "It appears so. Isn't that a sign of drowning?"

Laurel looked back at the cracked ice. So the killer had brought the woman to the river, broken through the ice, and then drowned her in the freezing water? Abbott had been locked up—first in jail, and then in the hospital. Those situations could be suffocating to a man like him. Had he found a new way to kill? "I'd like to have Dr. Ortega at Tempest County perform the autopsy." The coroner was as meticulous as any she'd ever seen, and she trusted his judgment.

"Gotcha," Monty said.

More ice fell off the victim's face. She appeared to be in her early sixties or so with pale blue skin that could've resulted from the cold or drowning. Or both. "Is there any ID on the body?" Laurel asked.

The nearest tech shrugged. "The water on her clothing has frozen, so we should get her to the lab before trying to find a wallet."

Huck took a step closer to the body, his shoulders stiffening.

"Huck?" Laurel focused on him. His posture had gone rigid and his gaze intent. "Do you see something?"

Aeneas whined, ducking his head against Huck's knee, no doubt catching the captain's tension.

Huck swallowed. "I—I think I know her."

Laurel looked back at the woman. "How?"

His rugged face went slack. "I think that's my mother."