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“I think it came from across the creek. He must’ve come from the other side. The deputies need to check that access road for tire tracks. I know they did for Morgan’s murder, too, but this time they might be able to discern fresh tracks. I never did hear a car. Did you?”
“I didn’t hear a car. Didn’t hear a laugh, either.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “After you screamed, did you hear me calling your name?”
“No. I just got your call, which stunned me for a few seconds. Of course, I didn’t have any idea when I saw the callcome through that you were actually in the forest with me.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I’m glad you were here.”
“Me, too, but that means the killer probably didn’t hear me yelling, either. So he didn’t know I was here.”
“I think he left after I screamed. He left once he made sure I’d found his handiwork.” She pointed down the path that led to another entrance to the trail. “Sirens.”
“If he didn’t hear me, didn’t know I was out here, I probably didn’t save your life.”
“You sound disappointed.” She shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and screwed up one side of her mouth.
“No, no. I’m relieved you weren’t in physical danger.” He stepped toward the water, making a wide berth around the dead woman, and stared at the other side of the creek. “I’m just wondering why. What does he want with you? Why lead you to another dead body?”
“It’s clear to me.” She raised her arms in the air, cell phone flashlight clasped in one hand, and waved at the deputies charging up the trail. “He either killed Tiffany or knows who did. He’s playing a game with me…and I’m all in.”
* * *
ABOUT TWO HOURSlater at the stroke of midnight, Jessica kicked her feet in the chilly water and took another sip of beer from the bottle she and Finn had bought at the little market inside her hotel. Her shoulder bumped his as they sat side by side at the edge of a small mooring area outside the hotel. After the deputies had grilled them—or rather grilledher, Finn’s buddies on the force hadquestionedhim—they’d been too pumped up to go their separate ways and call it a night. What a night.
Tapping her knee, he said, “Your toes are going to freeze in that water.”
“Then they’ll match the rest of me. I’m not over the shock of finding Missy Park. Why weren’t the deputies patrolling that trail after Morgan’s murder? And what was Missy doing there by herself?
Finn tipped back his bottle, took a long swallow and slammed it down on the wooden slats of the dock. “I could ask you the same question.”
She caught her breath. She knew Finn would be angry about it. Knew he’d try to talk her out of it. That’s why she’d hidden it from him. She said, lightly, “Asked and answered.”
“If a stranger texted you to go jump off the Space Needle, would you do that, too?” He collapsed on his back, folding his arms beneath his head.
“I would do a lot to solve my sister’s murder. I owe it to her.” She glanced at his bunching biceps, his T-shirt stretched across the hard planes of his chest. The boy had become a man—a harder, less forgiving one, a less malleable one.
He turned his head. “Do you think Tiffany would want you to put yourself in danger to find her killer? Tiffany protected you. You told me yourself she risked her life to protect you when you were children. She’d want you to live your life, Jessica.”
“If the drunk driver that killed your father while he was on patrol hadn’t been apprehended at the scene, are you telling me you wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to find that person and bring him to justice? You know you would have. You went into a career that you didn’t even like just to honor his memory.”
Finn closed his eyes, and she reached out and stroked histhigh. “I’m sorry to bring that up…but you know it’s true, Finn. I never believed the Creekside Killer was responsible for Tiffany’s death. It didn’t add up to me. Avery Plank never stalked his victims. His were crimes of opportunity. He picked up sex workers and dumped them on trails, at campsites, recreational areas. Tiffany’s killer stalked her.”
“You know the theory.” He rolled onto his side and propped up his head with his hand, his elbow planted on the wooden dock.
“That Plank knew her when she’d been turning tricks, discovered her again and decided to kill her.” She flipped her hand in the air. “Nope. Tiffany wouldn’t have met up with a former john. I doubt she’d even remember him. This person stalked her, perhaps stole the rag doll and slipped away when Plank took the blame.”
“Never to strike again. You don’t have to take one of my classes to know how unlikely that is—especially if this killer was unknown to Tiffany.”
“I’ve thought of that. He could’ve gotten picked up for another crime. He didn’t leave any DNA at Tiffany’s scene. Didn’t sexually assault her, probably for that same reason. If the cops had picked him up for peeping or burglary or assault, they wouldn’t have had any DNA to match him up with Tiffany’s murder.”
“So, he’s been in jail for the past ten years and decided to come back to the scene of his first murder and start up again—while contacting the sister of his victim.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.” She pulled her feet from the water and curled her legs beneath her. “I’m just so heartbroken for Missy and Morgan. I wonder if the investigators will find any connection between the two women other than the first letter of their first names and the fact that they wereboth on that trail at night. Just like Morgan, Missy was wearing running clothes and earbuds. So it would seem they were both on that trail voluntarily. Why would Missy go running where another woman had been murdered just a week before?”
“People do careless things all the time.” He sat up and gave her a hard stare. “Are you going back to the crime scene in the morning when it’s light out to finish your examination?”
“Yeah, poor Deputy Holden has to spend the night out there to guard it. I’m not the only CSI member who’s going back. We still need to look for tracks. Also, I told Detective Morse that I’m pretty sure the killer had been farther up the trail at Morgan’s site. He could’ve left pieces of evidence along that trail without realizing what he was doing.” She stuck her legs out in front of her and wiggled her toes as she grabbed one of her socks. “He was sloppy this time.”
“I hope Missy got his DNA beneath her fingernails. I saw blood. Of course, it could be her own blood, as I also saw scratches on her neck. The poor girl was probably trying to claw the scarf from her neck as he twisted it tighter and tighter.”
Jessica swallowed, the beer tasting bitter on the back of her tongue. “How do you know it’s a scarf and not a tie or a sleeve or something else?”