You Can Die

Book 3: A Laurel Snow Thriller

by Rebecca Zanetti

Genres: Female Sleuths; Suspense

Synopsis

Set against the atmospheric snowy backdrop of the rural Pacific Northwest, New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti's edgy, gripping thriller will have listeners guessing until the very end.



Men are dying in the Pacific Northwest, their bodies found near churches, charities, and counseling centers—each with valentine candy hearts shoved down their throats. They're good men with families and community ties—or so they seem until FBI profiler Laurel Snow and her team begin to investigate. Then the case takes a shockingly personal turn when the father she's never met, a former pastor, turns up among the dead.



Now, besides solving her father's murder, Laurel is on the hunt to discover the truth of his past. Complicating things is Laurel's troubled half-sister, Abigail, a brilliant sociopath determined to prove that they've both inherited their father's malignant narcissism.



Assisting Laurel is Washington Fish and Wildlife Captain Huck Rivers, a dangerous loner whose reliance on gut instinct puts him at odds with Laurel's coolly analytic approach. But the choice may be moot when the killer hones in on Huck's own dark secrets—putting him and Laurel squarely in the crosshairs.

Release date: July 25, 2023

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 310

Sample

Prologue

A chilly mist hung low, almost to the rough pavement. Angry sleet pummeled the tent city, its roar muffling the rush hour traffic and the multiple honking horns above them. Vivienne Vuittron ducked her head and pulled her hood tighter over her hair as she scurried through the maze of temporary shelters, trying to keep as far from their openings as possible.

“This is crazy,” Ryan muttered next to her, his hands in his pockets and his head down as rain slicked his hair to his head.

“I know,” she whispered. “Come on. This way.” She followed the beeping red dot on her phone, slightly extending it from her body as if she were in a landing party or something.

Ryan looked around. “This is not a safe place to be. Come on, Viv. Let’s get back to my car.”

“No.” They’d left his dented old Subaru at the far end of the bridge; hopefully nobody would steal it.

“We’re trespassing,” Ryan hissed. “I think. Maybe not. Either way, this is so not safe.”

Viv’s chest tightened and her legs trembled. She could barely make out the number of tents under the overpass, but she kept following the blinking light—past the green tent with what smelled like marijuana smoke wafting out a top vent. She waded through mud puddles and was silently thankful she’d talked Ryan into this. It would be way too scary to come here alone. Cars zoomed by above them on their way to somewhere else.

She tiptoed over a couple of used syringes, wanting to run back to the car. “We’re almost there.”

“Where? We’re in the middle of a fucking tent city. Your dad can’t be here.” Ryan frowned, looking kind of cute. They’d been dating for almost a month, and he was probably the best-looking boy she’d ever met.

“When he and Kirsti were cheating on my mom, I guess they parked his van anywhere to do it. If he’s seeing somebody else and cheating on Kirsti, then I just need one picture.” She’d planted a luggage tag disc in his oversized wallet over a month ago, and from what she could see, he often went odd places. There was a road on the other side of the tent city, and maybe her dad was parked there.

Somebody groaned inside a yellow tent, and she quickened her steps.

Ryan followed her. “You know we’re going to miss first and second periods, right?”

“Probably third, too,” she whispered. “What do you care? You skip class all the time.” That was one of the things she liked about him.

“I only skip the first one because coach teaches it, and I don’t really have to be there.” He jumped over what looked like a pile of dirty baby wipes. “I understand health, baby.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. His sense of humor was something else she liked about him. Plus, he had sandy blond hair, spectacular blue eyes, and shoulders so wide, he played nose guard for the football team. Before she’d met him, she hadn’t even known what a nose guard did. “Come on, it’s this way. Mr. Big Shot Lawyer won’t like seeing us here.”

“I thought you said your dad was a dentist.” Ryan pulled his hands out of his pockets to walk next to her.

She sighed. “Yeah, he sucked as a lawyer, so he went to dental school. That’s where he met my mom. She worked to help him pay for it. Then he was a dentist for a while, but you know . . .”

“Oh, yeah,” Ryan said. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Her father had left her mom for his dental hygienist, and he’d been fired at the same time. So he’d gone back to being a lawyer, which he probably still sucked at.

Ryan skirted a bunch of torn and bloody shirts. “At least he had something to fall back on?”

“Fell back on his girlfriend, if you ask me,” she snorted. “That bimbo, I can’t believe he’s still dating her.” It was sad because his cheating had hurt her mom so much, but it wasn’t like her dad had been around that much anyway. Now he was probably cheating on Kirsti as well. “If I can’t get a picture, I’ll tape the note to his windshield. Then maybe we can make it to third period."

She kept slogging through the mud, her hair dripping rain down her face.

“Why don’t we just call him?” Ryan asked.

“Would you call your dad?”

Ryan kicked a rock out of his way. “My dad’s in prison.”

That was one of the reasons they had bonded. Their fathers both sucked. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s his fault. He was the druggie who decided to rob a construction trailer.” Ryan nudged rolled-up socks to the side. “People on drugs do the dumbest fucking things.”

“I know,” Viv said. “My dad isn’t on drugs. He’s just an asshole.”

The red light blinked faster, and Viv angled her head, staring at a purple tent. The fabric was bright compared to the other weather-worn tents, and the stitching was new.

Ryan gulped. “You think he’s in there?” he whispered.

She winced, hating her dad more than ever. What kind of kinky crap was he into that he came here to do it in a purple tent?

Ryan coughed. “Oh, man. Talk about an ‘I’m having a midlife crisis’ situation. Geez, no offense, but this guy is just looking to get his rocks off. This is a crazy place to be.”

“You have no idea,” Viv muttered, stomping toward the tent.

Ryan looked around at the other tents as if scoping for threats. “He buys a tent and gets jiggy in a skeevy place like this instead of making money so your sister can get a new band uniform?”

“He’s the worst,” Viv muttered, her heart aching. She would not cry. Not again. “He has to pay his child support through the state because there’s no choice, but other than that, he’s not keeping up his end of the bargain.”

The note she’d written felt heavy in her pocket. She hadn’t been nice in it. She’d told him exactly what she thought, and she’d also told him that he needed to nut up and help out. Her mom was struggling to pay for everything right now.

Viv readied her camera, crouched, and yanked aside the tent flap.

Her mind went blank at what she saw. “Oh my God,” she said, unable to move.

“What?” Ryan leaned down and then gasped. He grabbed her instantly and pulled her away. “Viv!”

“I know,” she said, looking down.

Her father lay naked on his back with his eyes wide open, staring up at the top of the tent. Ripped clothes covered most of his tan wallet, which had been discarded in the corner. His chest was covered in blood that pooled on the ground around him. She couldn’t look away from the terrifying sight of the colorful Valentine’s Day candies shoved in his mouth and smashed all over his face. The heart shaped pieces fell out onto his bloodied cheeks and into the blood around his head.

From far away she could hear screaming, from very far away.

Ryan shook her. “Viv. Viv. Stop screaming.”

She couldn’t.

 

Chapter 1

The smell of marijuana clogged the dank air as Laurel Snow picked her way across the crumbling pavement in her mother’s good navy-blue kitten heels. Blue tarps and small tents were placed haphazardly below the concrete ceiling of the bridge, their inhabitants remaining inside, protected from the pouring rain.

Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the farthest section of the underpass, where two uniformed officers were going from tent to tent taking notes. An ambulance stood silently to the north, facing her with nobody in the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for coming out today,” said her escort, FBI Agent Sally Rodriguez, as if they’d just met for tea. After Laurel had received orders from DC, Agent Rodriguez had picked her up at the University of Washington, halfway through a planned lecture she was giving about behavioral analysis. Even though the lecture had started at eight in the morning, the entire room had been full of students.

She’d been secretly relieved to cut the class short. Public speaking was not one of her skills.

Laurel cinched her raincoat tighter around her waist, acutely aware she wasn’t dressed for a crime scene. Her simple blue jacket and skirt set with the white shell had been more appropriate for her role as a guest lecturer today. She stepped lightly over a smattering of used syringes as the rain flattened her hair to her head. Droplets slid down over her face, and she wiped them away. “I’m surprised I was brought in on this.” She had inferred from her boss in DC that the head of the Seattle FBI field office wasn’t pleased with Laurel taking over the Violent Crimes Unit and basing it out of Genesis Valley, which was two hours to the east.

“Don’t ask me.” Agent Rodriguez was around forty with grayish blond blending with the dark brown of her hair, cut in a sharp bob. Her light brown eyes shone with intelligence and a glint that said this wasn’t her first day on the job. Her build was stocky, her jaw surprisingly delicate, and her hiking boots perfect for the terrain. “We have jurisdiction because we’re at the tip of the Mount-Baker Snoqualmie Forest, but I’m hoping to pass the case to you because we’re stretched way too thin in the Seattle Field Office.” Above them, cars sped by on I-90.

Two men sat inside an orange-colored tent to the left, playing cards and smoking cigars. They watched Laurel walk by with flat eyes, their gray hair and beards long. Both wore torn gloves and layers of dirty clothing.

Rodriguez looked toward them and kept walking. “The counties and cities have been cleaning out these tent cities for the last year, but they spring right back up in a day or so.” She pointed ahead at a bright purple tent set against scrubby bushes where white-suited crime techs were swarming. “The Seattle coroner is here but will transfer the case if asked.”

A man moved from behind a pillar, his stance wide as he looked around the scene.

Rodriguez immediately pivoted to stride toward him, motioning for Laurel to do the same. “My boss has been waiting for you.”

The man had presence and a sense of command, wearing dark jeans, boots, and a black puffer jacket. An FBI badge hung at his belt. His chest was wide, his legs stocky, and his head bald. Piercing blue eyes were set in a boxer’s face, complete with a nose that had been broken once or twice. He walked toward them, not seeming to notice the rain pummeling his smooth head.

Laurel tilted her head, curious. It was telling that he moved toward them. The power move would’ve been to force them to walk to him.

He held out a hand, his eyebrows raised and his gaze studying her face with interest—and surprise he did nothing to mask. “Special Agent Snow. It’s nice to meet you.” His handshake was short and professional. “I’m Special Agent in Charge Wayne Norrs.”

Laurel shook his hand. She was accustomed to people taking a second look at her unusual features—dark, reddish-brown hair and heterochromatic eyes. She noted the strength in his grip. Norrs had to be in his early forties, and his stocky build showed muscle. 

“Deputy Director McCromby said you requested assistance from the FBI Pacific Northwest Violent Crimes Unit?” The unit had just become official a week ago when she’d been in DC. On a probationary basis, anyway.

“Yeah.” He gestured toward the tent, where a crime scene photographer was snapping pictures. “My team is stretched thin with two RICO cases and seven drug trafficking cases. Take a look at the scene and then let’s chat.”

She blinked. He wasn’t anything like she’d expected. After she’d been assigned to lead the PNVCU for a probationary year, McCromby had said Norrs was displeased, and that normally meant red tape and roadblocks in her experience. Though she hadn’t practiced studying expressions lately, Norrs seemed to truly want her assistance.

“I’d like to bring my entire team in on this,” Laurel said. Her small team was comprised of only four at the moment, but she had requested additional agents, and they should be arriving soon. She’d ignored management’s suggestion that her team move to the city. She liked Genesis Valley.

“Take a look first,” Norrs said easily, his voice scratchy as if he smoked a pack or two a day. “See if you want the case or if I should add it to my overflowing caseload. You’re just back, right?”

“Yes.” After working a serial arson case in New Jersey for more than a month, she’d spent two weeks in DC signing contracts, dealing with HR, and packing up her apartment. As it turned out, she hadn’t had many possessions to bring here. Apparently, she’d never quite set down roots in the capital. It was good to be home finally. “What do we have?” she asked.

“Walk this way.” Norrs led the way over to the purple tent, which was now shielded by a wide, white tarp.

Laurel crouched down to look inside, where a naked man lay covered in blood next to a balled up pile of clothing. A wallet had been opened, probably by the techs on scene, and placed atop the clothing. Several stab marks could be seen in the victim’s upper chest, abdomen, and down his right leg.

“I called out our evidence response team to process the scene, and we’ll use the Washington State lab for results. Assuming you’d take the case, I contacted the Tempest County coroner, who is still on his way. That’s good because I wanted you to see the body. It’s protected from the elements by the new tent, but I have to release it as soon as he gets here,” Norrs said. “There are too many stab wounds to count.” The victim had brownish-gray hair and was clean-shaven. Heart-shaped candy had been stuffed down his throat and scattered across his teeth and around his head.

“Who is he?” She stood.

“His name was Victor Vuittron,” Norrs said.

Laurel jolted. “Victor Vuittron?”

“Yeah,” Norrs said, his gaze intense on her face. “You’ve heard of him?”

Her throat went dry. “Yes. He’s the ex-husband of my office manager.” She had to call Kate.

“So they were telling

the truth,” Norrs mused.

“Who?” Laurel asked, looking around and again noticing the too-quiet ambulance. She started moving that way before Norrs could answer. When she rounded the back corner, she found Viv, Kate’s oldest daughter, inside and crying against the chest of a pale boy who was awkwardly patting her shoulder. They were both wearing hospital scrubs beneath the wool blankets that covered them. Had the police confiscated their clothing? “Viv?”

Viv turned her head and then pushed away from the boy, leaping down and rushing toward her. “Laurel!” she wailed, wrapping both arms around Laurel’s waist and shoving her back a step. “My dad is dead.”

Laurel hugged her back and smoothed her wet hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” She studied the boy. He appeared to be about sixteen with broad shoulders, wet blond hair, and light blue eyes. No marks were evident on his face, neck, or hands. His face was pale and his eyes glassy as if in shock, his body shivering even though a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders.

Laurel straightened the blanket over Viv and gently nudged her back inside the ambulance. “Get out of the rain.” When Viv wearily climbed back in, the boy put his arm over her shoulder. “Have you called your mom?”

“No.” Viv leaned into the kid, her curly blond hair falling over his arm.

He cleared his throat. “The cops took our phones and separated us until they got our statements. Then they put us in here, but they still have our phones.”

Norrs walked up behind her. “We have their phones and are awaiting warrants to search them.”

Although she didn’t think she’d see anything, Laurel double-checked that there were no cut marks on Viv’s hands or face to indicate she’d stabbed anybody—often attackers cut themselves. “They’re underage. Their parents need to be called before we interview them.”

“Interview us?” the boy snapped. “That’s crazy. We just found the body.”

Viv sniffed. “Please call my mom.”

Laurel nodded. “Do either of you require medical assistance?”

They both shook their heads.

She turned toward Norrs. “Have you interviewed all of the possible witnesses?”

“Yes,” Norrs said. “As many as we could catch before they hightailed it out of here. How about we head to my office? I have a couple of agents trying to track down information about the tent as well as searching CCTV in the area. If there is any.”

Laurel kept her expression bland. He seemed so cooperative. “That would be fine, so long as we take the kids with us and call their parents.” She wasn’t letting Viv out of her sight until she found Kate.

Norrs pointed toward the official vehicles. “My rig’s over here.”

Laurel fetched the kids from the ambulance, and they scrambled to stay close to her. Agent Norrs had been much more polite than she had been led to expect. They reached his light gray Dodge Ram, and he opened the passenger side door for her. She hesitated, then stepped up on the side rail to get in as the kids hopped into the back of the 4-door truck, both of them still pale and trembling.

He wiped rain off his head. “I’m sorry about that. You’re not one of those women who dislikes having a guy open a door, are you? I know this is business, and I know we work together, but my mom would show up and box my ears if I didn’t at least attempt it.”

Laurel reached for her seatbelt. “No, I appreciate it. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh, good,” Norrs said, shutting the door. Quick strides had him around the vehicle and jumping into the driver’s side. He quickly started the engine and drove away from the crime scene.

The trip to the Seattle FBI office was quick, with very little traffic for once. Special Agent Norrs took them through the personnel elevator from the parking garage and walked beyond the reception desk. He handed off the kids to an agent, instructing that they be allowed to call their parents and then taken to different interrogation rooms.

Laurel tried to give Viv a reassuring nod before following Norrs.

“We’ll make sure you have access to the building by the time you leave today,” he said, winding through several offices until they reached a conference room in the rear. “I had everything set up in here for now.”

She walked inside to find a murder board already set up, with pictures of the victim and surrounding area; the kids’ pictures had been tacked on a second board.

“I sent those from my phone and had Sherry print them out,” he said. “I’d like to offer you support on this, but I had to send Agent Rodriquez out on another case, and she’ll be occupied for at least a week—if not two.”

Laurel nodded. “She mentioned that your caseload is heavy right now.” She studied the board. “I’m wondering about the significance of the Valentine’s Day candy.”

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day was an entire month ago, and it appears as if Vuittron was killed last night, so . . .”

Laurel reached in her bag for a band to tie up her still damp hair. “The killing appears to have been fueled by rage, but the purchase of the tent and the location suggest otherwise,” she murmured. She needed Kate’s permission to speak with Viv about the case, but she wanted to be with the girl, comforting her. “Did you get anything out of the kids?”

“No, but they shouldn’t have been there at all, so you have to wonder,” Norrs said. “The officer on site did a quick interview with both of them to make sure the scene was safe. They said they just found

the victim.”

That made zero sense. Laurel sighed. Hopefully Viv hadn’t lied to a federal agent.

A rustle sounded by the doorway, and an older woman with bright silver hair poked her head in. “Here are the first couple of witness statements from the scene, Special Agent Norrs, as well as identification and access for Special Agent Snow.” She walked in and handed him two case files, before passing over an ID card for Laurel. “Also, we have a quick background on the victim—top file.”

Norrs flipped open the file folder, sidling closer to Laurel so she could see. “Victor Vuitton, junior associate at Marshall & Cutting law firm.”

“Yes. They’ve won some high-profile criminal cases the last couple of years,” Sherry said.

Norrs sighed. “Dead lawyer. Gee. Wonder where we’ll find suspects.”

Laurel frowned. “I thought he was a dentist.” She went back through her conversations with Kate. The first day they’d met, the woman had mentioned that she’d met her now ex-husband when he’d attended dental school. Then more recently, he’d committed adultery with his dental assistant, which had precipitated the divorce. Perhaps she hadn’t asked enough questions of her new friend.

Sherry’s bracelet jingled as she moved. “A missing persons report was filed this morning but didn’t hit the database until about five minutes ago.”

“Filed by whom?” Laurel asked.

“His wife, Kirsti Vuittron. She said that he didn’t come home last night. Apparently her housekeeper found her in distress this morning and talked her into calling the police.”

Laurel jolted. Victor had married his mistress? Was Kate aware of that fact?

Norrs studied the driver’s license. “Run a background check on the Vuittron family as well as their housekeeper, would you? Please copy Special Agent Snow on that.”

Laurel stiffened. “You’ll need to interview Viv’s mother, Kate Vuittron, when she arrives, Agent Norrs.”

He nodded. “Understood. Anything else, Sherry?”

“You bet. Apparently Mr. Vuittron announced a month ago that he was running for Seattle City Council against Councilman Eric Swelter. The primary isn’t until August, but from the sounds of it, these guys hated each other.” Sherry turned and strode away.

Norrs smacked his head. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced you. I’ve been working on my manners lately.”

Laurel had to clear Kate of this, and fast. No way would Kate have stabbed her ex and then shoved candy down his throat. “I have to work on mine all the time. Don’t concern yourself about it.”

“Good. My guys are all knee-deep in other cases right now. I’ll interview Kate Vuittron, considering your connection to the victim and possible suspects, but I’m hoping you’ll work the remainder of the case

and keep objective.” He ran a broad hand over his smooth head. “I’m honestly so low on personnel right now that I don’t have a choice.”

She didn’t want to be the one to interrogate Kate. “I concur and will be objective,” Laurel said quietly. Her unit had been created for cases like these. “I’d like to check on the kids, ...