Page 2 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)
Finn’s hand had a slight tremble as he turned his back on the class and shoved some folders into his briefcase.
He hadn’t even discussed the Tiffany Hunt case in class yet.
A lot of these students didn’t even know about the murder, although most were familiar with the serial killer Avery Plank.
Someone had been reading up on the university’s crime stats.
“You didn’t let me finish my question.”
He spun around at the sound of the voice behind him, and he peered over the edge of the stage at the woman with one booted foot planted on the first step.
From above, the wavy blond hair subdued into a ponytail lit a spark of recognition in his chest. When she tipped her head back and he met those luminous hazel eyes, he almost dropped his computer.
He took a deep breath, not wanting her to see that she’d rattled him. Lifting his shoulders, he slid his laptop into the bag on the desk. “We were running out of time, and there’s not much more to discuss on the subject.”
She climbed the remaining steps to the stage and squared off in front of him. “Oh, there’s a lot more to discuss, Professor Karlsson… Deputy Karlsson, badge number 2852.”
He narrowed his eyes as a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. “What are you doing back in school, Jessica? Looking to ruin more careers?”
“C’mon, this suits you so much better.” She waved a hand at him. “You look good in civilian clothes, although you looked pretty good in that uniform, too.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t need to resort to your fake flattery now. I have nothing to do with the Morgan Flemming case. I’m guessing you’re here to stick your nose into the latest homicide on campus?”
“You make my interest in her murder sound so—” she rolled her eyes to the ceiling “—trivial.”
“There’s never anything trivial about any murder.” He hoisted the satchel over his shoulder and ran a hand through his hair.
“I know that better than anyone.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I found something at the crime scene.”
About to brush past her, he tripped to a stop. “You were at the crime scene?”
“It’s not off-limits anymore. Tape is down.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, and the golden waves danced and caught the light. “That’s not the point. Did you hear what I said? I found something at the crime scene.”
“Look, I know you’re some hotshot forensic scientist now, but I’m pretty sure the deputies already went over that scene and didn’t miss a thing.”
Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head. “Really?”
He swallowed and jogged down the steps of the stage past her. Damn. How pathetic had he just made himself look by admitting he’d followed her career? He mumbled, “I’ve seen your name on a few local cases.”
She snorted. “I meant really, are you so sure they didn’t miss anything.”
“If you found something at the scene, you’d better turn it over to the sheriff’s department.” He turned his back on her “You’re a professional now, not a college student interfering in a case and causing trouble.”
“Ah, Professor Karlsson?” One of his older students popped up from a seat in the front row. Had he heard the embarrassing exchange between him and Jessica?
“Mr. Webb, right?”
“Dermott Webb.” The student’s gaze traveled between him and Jessica, still on the stage. “Can I ask you a quick question about the assignment?”
“Of course.” Finn tried to plaster a pleasant smile on his face.
“If we do some additional reading on the subject, can we use that material for our response instead of the textbook?” Webb held up his hand as if expecting him to deny the request. “I’d cite the reference material, of course.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine if it sticks with the topic.” Now he knew why he remembered this particular student. Finn always had one or two know-it-alls in a class, trying to impress or brownnose. Dermott Webb would probably make a good, by-the-book cop. The kind that would have the brass salivating.
“Thank you, Professor Karlsson. I’d like to talk with you further about this book—” his gaze darted toward Jessica again, now crossing her arms and tapping the toe of her boot “—I-I mean, during your office hours.”
“Looking forward to hearing about it, Mr. Webb.” Finn shifted slightly, showing Webb his shoulder in a broad hint.
“I’ll see you in your office, then.” Webb lifted his hand and loped from the lecture hall, excitement quickening his steps.
Raising her eyebrows, Jessica said, “Don’t like him much, do you?”
“You can see my expression from the stage? The lights aren’t even all the way up.”
“No, I couldn’t make out your face, but I know that tone of voice. You used it with me, once…”
“Once I found out you were manipulating me?” He rolled his shoulders. He shouldn’t let her get under his skin. That way lay danger. “Don’t you have some evidence to turn over to the sheriff’s department?”
“Who said I’m not giving it to law enforcement? Hell, I am law enforcement.” She bypassed the steps and jumped off the edge of the stage, landing in front of him, her hiking boots echoing in the empty hall. “But I’m willing to show it to you first…if you’re interested.”
He sucked in a quick breath. “Why the offer?”
“Because I have something to prove to you.” She hooked a thumb in the belt loop of her slouchy jeans. “Buy you a drink?”
“It’s the least you owe me, and I admit I’m curious.” He patted the side of his bag. “Let me drop this at my office first, and I’ll meet you at the Porch. I should be safe from my students there, even at this hour.”
“Even the eager Mr. Webb?” She flicked her fingers in the air. “I know where the Porch is. I’ll head over there now, Professor.”
She made a beeline for the side door of the lecture hall, her blond ponytail swinging behind her, looking every bit the college student.
Finn exited through the back door, crossed the north campus quad and breathed a sigh of relief when he rounded the corner to an empty hallway.
He didn’t have office hours right now, but that didn’t stop desperate students from dropping by to find out how they could turn in a late assignment or pick up some extra credit for a poor test score.
He unlocked his door and swung his bag onto the visitor chair opposite his desk. Then he locked up and strode across campus to exit on the north side, onto the bustling tree-lined street that boasted rows of bars and cheap eats, catering to the student crowd.
Finn veered off the street where it dead-ended at the path along the river and made his way to the more refined area of town that satisfied the palates and sensibilities of the parents who dropped their kids off—not expecting them to get murdered.
By the time he pushed through the front door of the Porch, Jessica had secured a table by the window. She wiggled her fingers in the air to draw his attention—as if he could ever miss Jessica Eller. As he approached the table, he pointed at the bar, and she shook her head.
He pulled out a chair and joined her. “Did you order already?”
“There’s a waitress circulating. I told her to come back when my date got here.”
He raised one eyebrow at her. “This isn’t a date.”
“Nobody has to know our business.” She waved at the circulating waitress, and the woman, thank God not one of his students, ambled to their table.
The waitress tapped one elaborately painted nail on the Formica. “Did you see the happy hour menu?”
Finn picked up the plastic card and ran a finger down the list of beers. “I’ll have the local IPA.”
Jessica answered. “House white for me and some water, please.”
Finn watched the waitress approach the bar and then planted his elbows on the table. “What did the cops and your CSI coworkers miss?”
Jessica plucked her cocktail napkin from the table and rummaged in the big bag on the seat beside her.
Her hand emerged with a greeting card pinched between two fingers, covered by the napkin.
She dropped it onto the table in front of him.
“I found this at Morgan’s memorial site, where her body was discovered. ”
He eyed the card, adorned with purple and yellow flowers, the word “condolences” in fancy gold script across the front. He grabbed a knife and flicked open the card.
“Read it,” Jessica demanded.
He cleared his throat and read aloud. “Something old, something dead, something stolen, something red. So sorry you had to join the club, Morgan. Love, Tiffany H.”