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When she got back to her car, she dropped her drink in the cup holder and pulled out her phone. Task one completed, task two up next.
The phone rang twice before King County Sheriff’s Deputy Tomas Alvarado picked up. “Detective Alvarado.”
“Detective Alvarado, this is Jessica Eller, Washington State Patrol Crime Lab.”
“Hi, Jessica. You can call me Tomas. I was waiting for your call. Are you ready to transport the physical evidence to the lab? Marysville, right? Or is this going to Seattle?”
“Marysville. Seattle’s all full up. I’d like to meet with you first and discuss the evidence. I also found a couple of items at Morgan Flemming’s memorial site I’d like to show you.”
“It’s a little late for me today, but I can do tomorrow. Three at the station sound good?”
“I’ll be there.”
“In the meantime, to prep for the meeting I’ll email you a list of the material evidence. We didn’t categorize it yet. We’ll leave it up to you guys, as usual.”
“Perfect. You have my department email. Send it over, encrypted.”
She ended the call and cupped the phone in her hands. Michael had been right. Time to focus on Morgan. If that led to new discoveries about Tiffany, she’d take it.
Shuffling through those greeting cards had taken her longer than she’d expected, so she rushed back to the hotel. She wanted to review the email from Tomas before she got ready for her…meeting with Finn.
Back in her room fifteen minutes later, Jessica peeked into her closet to see if she had anything halfway presentable to wear to dinner tonight. So far, Finn had seen her in jeans, T-shirts and hiking boots, and slacks and a blouse—hardly memorable. But this wasn’t a date, so it didn’t matter if he found her attractive.
It didn’t matter because they had this…thing between them—chemistry, electricity, good old-fashioned lust. She’d wondered over the years if her attraction to Finn at that time had been because she needed him to get info on her sister’s case. Maybe, feeling guilt about using him, she had convinced herself that she really did feel something for him.
This reacquaintance with him had pretty much put that theory to bed, which is exactly where she wanted him. She slid the closet door closed and smirked at herself in the mirror.
With her drink from the convenience store beside her open laptop, Jessica accessed her email. She scrolled past several, including one from Celine Jerome, a PI who specialized in genetic and family tracking. Jessica haddecided to take up where Tiffany had left off tracking down their brother.
She clicked on the message from Tomas and opened the attachment. She expanded the file and ran a quick eye down the short list of items.
Outdoor crime scenes usually yielded less physical evidence than indoor ones, and the elements subjected that evidence to more deterioration and less reliability. They did pick up a shoe print, but how long had it been there? It could belong to anyone in that public area.
She opened her own file and began to make notes on the evidence in her own words. The method helped her process the items, especially when she hadn’t been on the responding CSI team. She had to reconstruct the scene and the physical evidence in her head. She also used a program on her computer to sketch out the scene. Visiting it in person always helped.
A cigarette butt in the area held promise. A red cloth fiber that hadn’t come from anything of Morgan’s. A foil wrapper from a granola bar, but no prints on that. No prints on anything, including Morgan’s neck. Most likely, her killer had strangled her with a piece of clothing. Necktie? Scarf? Is that where the red fiber came from? Plank had used a tie on her sister, although authorities had never found it.
Most of these items had been shipped to the forensic lab in Seattle for possible DNA sampling. Marysville did DNA, but this evidence had been fast-tracked, so the items that might contain DNA had been sent to Seattle. The lab in Marysville handled physical evidence, her department, and vehicle inspections, although no vehicles were involved in this case—that they knew of.
There was no evidence that Morgan had fought back, either. No skin cells beneath her fingernails, no bruising, broken fingers. Had she known her killer, or had he sneaked up behind her? Had he lain in wait…smoking a cigarette while he watched?
Her phone rang, and she jumped. Her gaze darted to the time, and she answered Finn’s call as she hopped up from her chair. “I can’t believe it’s seven already.”
“Ah, you’re not ready. I’m here in my car. I guess I expected you’d be waiting out front.”
“And I would’ve been, if I hadn’t gotten so engrossed in my work. Do we have reservations anywhere?”
Finn coughed. “Sorry, no. Wasn’t thinking a reservation kinda place, but that could change.”
“No. That’s fine. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Tell you what. Let’s go to the restaurant down the street, near the dock. They do some decent fish and chips. I’ll drive over there, have a beer and wait for you. I’ll even order you a glass of white.”
“Make it a beer, whatever you’re having, and you’re on.”
She dropped the phone on her bed and stripped off her clothes on the way to the bathroom. This was feeling less like a date and more like a convenient business meeting. Good thing she’d left the sexy date-night clothes at home.
After a quick shower, Jessica pulled on a pair of jeans, a lightweight red sweater and a pair of boots with a small heel. She stroked on some mascara, added a red lip and fluffed up her hair. She grabbed her purse and a black leather bomber jacket and stopped at the mirrored closet. “Not bad for a sort of date on a tight timeline.”