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Her attention snapped back to Plank. “Who? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Professor Finn Karlsson is writing a book about me.”
Chapter Five
Finn glanced at the clock in the lower-right corner of his computer screen. Jessica should be coming out soon. He doubted she got any satisfaction from Plank. The guy played games—and Finn knew that better than anyone at this point.
He squeezed the back of his neck and took a sip of the soda he’d refilled on his way out of the sandwich shop, now watery and lukewarm. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure moving toward him.
He slid his laptop into its case and jumped from the car to get Jessica’s door. He squinted at her through his sunglasses. From the way she was practically marching across the parking lot, Plank had angered more than scared her. She probably didn’t get a straight answer from him about Tiffany.
He wasn’t about to go through the told-you-so routine with her.
As he opened the passenger door for her, she gave him a tight-lipped glance. Finn knew when to keep his mouth shut. He closed her door almost gently and took his time getting back to the driver’s side.
Once behind the wheel, he gave her a sideways glance. “Didn’t go well?”
She whipped her head around so fast her ponytail almost slapped her face. “Avery Plank is a liar and a game player.”
“Yeah, he is.”
Her hazel eyes turned to pools of dark green. “And you should know because so are you.”
Finn scratched his chin. She knew. Either the COs or Plank himself told her. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you about the book because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“How thoughtful.” She grabbed the drink in the cup holder and shoved the straw in her mouth. Wrinkling her nose, she removed the lid and tossed the liquid out the window.
“That was my old soda. Do you want another?”
She crushed the paper cup in her hand. “I want you to tell me why you’re writing this book. Y-you’re exploiting the deaths of all those women, including Tiffany.”
“Do you feel that way about other true crime books or just this one? There are probably a dozen books about the Hillside Strangler, a dozen about the Green River Killer—” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the prison where those two killers currently resided “—and I’m betting you read a few of each. Hell, you probably even watched the movies.”
She dropped her chin to her chest, and her eyelashes fluttered. “He knew about Morgan Flemming.”
“Of course he did. What did he say about Tiffany?”
“Back and forth. On the one hand, he admitted the MO for her homicide was different from the other Creekside victims, but he knew details about her case, about her background…mybackground. If he didn’t kill her, why would he bother collecting that information?” She dragged herknuckles across her cheek, although she hadn’t shed any tears.
“It’s his hobby.”
“That’s exactly what he said.” She sniffed. “How many times have you visited him?”
He met her gaze steadily as her eyes still threw sparks at him. “I’ve met him three times. I recorded the conversations if you’re interested in listening. It’s mostly just his background, his childhood.”
“Which I’m sure was terrible and delivered to induce the greatest amount of sympathy.” She tossed the crushed cup onto the console.
Finn lifted his shoulders. “Single, drug-addicted mother, lots of so-called fathers in and out of his life, some of whom beat him, lots of upheaval.”
“Sounds like my childhood.”
A sharp pain lanced his heart. He knew all about Jessica and Tiffany’s rough upbringing and how Tiffany had protected her younger sister. He understood Jessica’s need for justice. He’d felt it himself.
“I’m not writing a love letter to the Creekside Killer. This is just like any other true crime book. I’ll do justice to the victims and hopefully reveal what makes Plank tick. That’s not an excuse for him, and it’s no pity party. It’s going to be a cold, hard look at a cold, hard killer.”
“But your claim to fame, your raison d’être,is that you discovered the body of one of the Creekside Killer’s victims—Tiffany Hunt. Without that, you’re just another criminal justice expert writing a book about a serial killer. No offense.”
“None taken.” He ran a finger around his collar and started the rental car.