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He elbowed through the lookie-loos until he got to the crime scene tape, keeping the hordes at bay. He edged toward the deputy, one he didn’t know, manning the perimeter.
“Hey, man. The woman who discovered the body is my…girlfriend. Can I duck under to make sure she’s okay?”
“Sorry, Professor Karlsson. Nobody’s going in or out except authorized personnel. I think Detective Morse is almost done questioning Ms. Eller. You shouldn’t have to wait long to see her. She’s fine.” The deputy grimaced. “The other one, not so much.”
At least the deputy knew who he was. That might notgain him entrée into the magic crime circle, but it might get him something else. He dipped his head to the deputy’s ear. “The other woman, Ashley King, right?”
The deputy nodded once, his gaze darting around to make sure nobody saw him talking to Finn.
Finn whispered, “Strangled like the others?”
“That’s the thing.” Quick glance over Finn’s shoulder. “She was beaten to death with a blunt object.”
Finn’s gut knotted. The Kitsap Killer had wanted to distinguish this murder from his others. He had to know that killing Ashley King would connect him to Tiffany Hunt’s murder, especially with Plank disavowing his previous confession. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was ready to take credit for that ten-year-old murder.
Had he called Jessica to the scene again? There’s no way she would’ve come here on her own this time—not after what happened last night and her boss reading her the riot act about mishandling evidence. Besides, Jessica didn’t have her phone. How would he have contacted her?
When Morse shifted positions, Finn caught a glimpse of Jessica, her blond hair hanging around her pale face, her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders hunched. It took every ounce of control and reason he had to stay behind the yellow tape and not go charging over there and take her in his arms.
He shuffled out of the crowd and sank down on an upright log that functioned as a barrier to the mobile home park. From his perch, he kept an eye on Jessica as she answered Morse’s questions.
After almost thirty minutes, he sprang up from his log when a deputy led Jessica to a waiting patrol car. Theyweren’t done with her. They were taking her to the station for questioning.
Even better. He could wait for her there.
He followed the deputy’s patrol car to the station, joining a caravan of other vehicles, including a few news vans. By the time he parked at the station and exited his Jeep, the deputies had already hustled Jessica inside the station.
Finn walked inside and leaned over the front desk. “I’m here to pick up Jessica Eller when she’s done.”
The deputy on duty answered, “Noted.”
While he waited for Jessica, Finn scanned through the news of the murder on his phone. Jessica’s name hadn’t been reported yet, so some stories were not linking Ashley’s death to the current homicides. None of the outlets had mentioned the cause of death yet. Would the beating throw them off the scent of the Kitsap Killer? Fairwood hadn’t had a murder in over five years. How coincidental would it be for a couple of killers to snap at the same time—unless Ashley’s murder was personal.
How long before some enterprising journalist discovered that the Creekside Killer murdered Ashley’s roommate ten years ago? How long before someone other than law enforcement would start piecing together the links between the murders? Everyone still believed Avery Plank had murdered Tiffany Hunt, but he could blow that truth right out of the water. Finn hadn’t even told the police what Plank had admitted to him and Jessica. Would Plank backtrack from that admission?
He jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps in the back and half rose to his feet when he heard Jessica’s voice.
“That’s okay. I can get a ride back to Fairwood Flats.”
Finn strode toward the front desk to meet her. “You don’t need to do that.”
Raising her chin, her eyes widened. “Finn.”
A deputy, not Morse, stuck out his hand to Jessica. “Thank you again for your time, Jessica. If we have anything else, we’ll let you know. Call us with your new number when you get it, if we don’t release your phone first.”
“Will do, Deputy Harris.” Her pace picked up, and as she met Finn, she said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Harris pointed down the hallway from which they just emerged. “You can go out the back if you like. The press is still out front. By now, they probably know it’s you who found the body.”
Harris’s implied “again” hung in the air as Finn took Jessica’s arm. “Thanks, sir, we’ll do that.”
They did a 180 and made their way to the back door through the station. Before they exited, Finn draped his jacket over her shoulders, tugging the hood over her blond hair, just in case some sharp-eyed newshound noticed them sneaking to his car. They didn’t exchange one word until Finn was behind the wheel and driving away from the station.
Shifting his gaze to the side, he said, “Dinner? Glass of wine? Bottle of wine?”
“I could use some food.” She slumped in the passenger seat as he cruised past a news van with a reporter in front on a microphone. “This is already a circus, and they don’t know the half of it.”
“Neither do I.”