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Shaking his head from side to side, he blinked once,a slow lowering of the lids over perceptive eyes. “You’re that girl’s sister, too.” He snapped his fingers and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Jessica said her sister’s name through her teeth. “Tiffany Hunt.”
He leveled a long index finger at her, and she noticed for the first time that his hands were anything but average. They were huge, and Jessica flashed on an image of them wrapped around some poor woman’s neck, squeezing the life out of her.
“That’s right. Tiffany. She was a brunette, though, and you’re a blonde.” He cocked his head as if reviewing a lesson in genetics. “You sure you two were sisters? From what I read, your mother was a woman of low morals just like sweet Tiffany.”
Jessica’s cheek burned as if he’d slapped her. He knew about her mother, about her family. Would he bother with that if he hadn’t killed Tiffany?
Raising his cuffed hands, he said, “Don’t feel bad, Jessica. My mother was a whore, too.”
She’d studied his psychological profile and knew all about his background, but why did he know about hers? She was ready for his attack this time, the ugly word, and didn’t even blink an eye.
She tapped the record icon on her phone and straightened it on the table. “So, you did kill my sister.”
“Did you have any doubt? I confessed to it.”
“The MO was different from the others. Despite my sister’s troubled past, she wasn’t a sex worker at the time of her murder.” She tightened her jaw. “And you didn’t rape her, didn’t leave your DNA.”
“Ah, the outraged sister is also a crime investigator.” Hefolded his hands, mimicking her stance from before. “What else was different?”
“You didn’t use your hands to strangle Tiffany.” Her gaze bounced to his large mitts folded primly and back to his face, alert and bright. He was enjoying himself. “You didn’t pose her. You didn’t leave her nude.”
He clapped his hands together, the cuffs on his wrists resulting in an incongruously dainty motion. “I’m impressed. You’re very good, Jessica.”
“I’m not here for your admiration, Plank. I don’t think you killed my sister, but I can’t figure out why you know so much about her life.” She held her breath as Plank glanced over his shoulder at the CO.
Hunching across the table, he lowered his voice. “I make it my business to know the details of other cases in the same area as my…hunting ground.”
She’d dipped her head to catch his words, and then jerked back as he finished his sentence, drawing the attention of the corrections officer by the door leading back to the cells. She met the CO’s eyes and gave him a brief shake of her head.
She returned her focus to Plank and asked, “Does that mean you didn’t kill Tiffany?”
He leaned back in his chair. “What about this girl Morgan?”
A chill rippled down the length of Jessica’s spine. “You know about that murder?”
“What did I just tell you, Jessica?” He clicked his tongue. “It’s my hobby.”
“Do you think it’s a Creekside Killer copycat?”
“Let’s see.” He held up one manacled hand, the cuff slipping from his wrist to his elbow. “No rape, strangled,but most likely with an object, and Morgan was a sweet little coed, not a lady of the night. If he’s copying me, he’s doing a poor job of it.”
“So, you didn’t murder Tiffany. Is that what you’re saying?”
“You’re getting dull, Jessica.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ll tell you what, you can read my book. Perhaps I’ll reveal all amongst its pages.”
She snorted. “You’re not allowed to write a book about your crime and profit from it.”
He gave a high-pitched giggle that made her skin crawl. “I’m an engineer, not a writer. Someone else is writing my story.”
“I suppose there are all kinds of lowlifes willing to exploit murder for profit.”
“Oh, come on, Jessica. Don’t try to tell me you haven’t read books about serial killers. There are a couple of them here at the pen who have been best-seller subjects. In fact—” he drummed his fingers on the table next to her phone “—you probably know this author.”
“Doubt it.” She glanced over Plank’s shoulder at the CO twirling his finger in the air. Her time was almost up, and Plank hadn’t given her a straight answer about Tiffany.
“Oh, no. I’m sure you know him or knowofhim. He’s the cop who found your sister’s body, although he’s not on the job anymore.”