Page 21 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)

As he bent his head toward Mr. Flemming, Finn felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a text message. When Mr. Flemming turned to his wife, Finn glanced up at the unruly mob. He understood the students’ frustration, but this was not the time or place to vent those frustrations.

His gaze scanned the crowd, trying to pick out Jessica’s blond hair. He caught sight of her on the edge of the pressing throng of people, moving away from the quad.

He patted his pocket and pulled out his phone. He had a missed phone call he hadn’t even heard due to the shouts and chants. The text message was from Jessica, a forwarded text message.

He squinted at the display as if that could help him make sense of the cryptic message. Art Garden. Fountain. Too late .

Understanding slammed into his chest so hard, he gasped. He jerked his head up, zeroing in on where he’d last seen Jessica. She’d disappeared.

Adrenaline flooded his body and his limbs jerked. He touched Mr. Flemming’s arm. “Excuse me.”

Finn ducked back from the grouping on the stage and cranked his head back and forth, looking for a cop other than Detective Morse—who was trying to field questions from a horde of angry and agitated people.

The majority of the deputies were among the crowd, some at the front of the stage to make sure the irate mourners didn’t overrun it.

He’d have to go it alone. He jumped from the stage, grateful he’d swapped his loafers for a pair of running shoes. Maybe he’d had a feeling he’d need to run. So he did.

Finn took off, skirting the perimeter of the crowd, in the direction of the Art Garden. He dashed across the smaller quad behind Waverly Hall and took the walkway toward the art building, Callahan Hall.

As soon as he stepped foot in the Art Garden, he started calling Jessica’s name. More than anything, he just wanted her to stop. To turn around and wait for him. Was he too late as the text message had taunted?

He broke onto the pebbled surface that surrounded the fountain and his stomach dropped when he spotted two bodies next to the fountain.

As he ran toward them, a figure appeared behind him, and he swung around, his fist bunched.

“Whoa.” A deputy in uniform held up his hands. “Do you have the gun?”

Finn ignored his question. “There are two injured women here.”

When Finn dropped to his knees, his worst fear was realized. Jessica was slumped over the fountain, her hair wet and matted to her face. He turned her on her back, and his heart lurched at the sight of her pale face, a bluish tint around her mouth.

Her breath was faint but present, so he hauled her up and wrapped his arms around her to give her the Heimlich. One jerk and water gushed from her mouth. She choked and coughed up more water, but she’d opened her eyes and moved on her own.

The deputy wasn’t having the same kind of luck with the other woman. Even in the low lights, Finn could see the red mark around the woman’s neck. Unlike Jessica, that woman had been strangled.

Two more deputies ran onto the scene, all of them chattering about a gun.

When Jessica stopped sputtering, Finn curled an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right? The cops are here, but I don’t know why or how they knew to come.”

Jessica swiped an arm across her nose and mouth. “I called 911 on my way. Told them someone had a gun in the Art Garden. How’s…”

Finn shook his head. “She didn’t make it.”

Jessica broke down, covering her face with her hands and sobbing, the sound hoarse and broken.

The first deputy on scene, who’d identified himself as Deputy Lorman, took control. “Everyone step back from the body.”

Finn shouted, “We need an ambulance. Jessica almost drowned.”

Lorman replied, “On it. I called for backup.”

Jessica bent forward and Finn caught her before she could pass out on the cement, but she felt the ground with her hands. “My gun. Where’s my gun?”

Aiming his phone’s flashlight at the ground, Finn said, “He must’ve taken it. I didn’t see a gun.”

Jessica, her hand to her throat, said, “Get Detective Morse over here. This woman is another victim of the Kitsap Killer, or whatever you’re calling him, and he probably took off toward the woods. He knows them well.”

Finn turned toward Lorman. “Jessica’s right. He had to have gone toward the woods. I was calling Jessica’s name as I was running toward the fountain. I must’ve scared him off, but he didn’t come at me, so he must’ve headed for the woods…unless he’s in Callahan Hall.”

Lorman’s lips flattened into a grimace. “Do you know for sure it’s the same guy who murdered Morgan and Missy, ma’am?”

“The killer texted me before he did it.” She squeezed out her wet hair over one shoulder. “Or I don’t know. Maybe he’d already killed her before he even texted me.”

“Description? What was he wearing?” Lorman snapped his fingers at the two deputies guarding the scene.

“I don’t know.” Jessica shivered. “Gloves and black pants. That’s all I saw. He came up behind me.”

The deputies responded to Lorman’s frantic finger snapping and stood at attention. The shorter one asked, “What do you need, sir?”

“One of you take the woods and the other, Callahan Hall. Check for wet footsteps, broken branches, open doors in the building. Black pants, black gloves. Go, do your jobs.” He turned back to Jessica and Finn. “Do either of you know the dead woman?”

When Finn had come on the scene, he hadn’t even looked at the girl’s face—just the red marks on her neck. Now he peered over Jessica’s shoulder at the figure crumpled on the ground.

As Lorman highlighted her face with his flashlight, Finn’s eye twitched. He rose from his place beside Jessica and hunched forward. Then he swore.

Jessica clutched at his arm, too traumatized to turn and look, herself. “You know her?”

“That’s one of my students—Gabby Medina.”

As Finn sank back down, his head in his hand, sirens wailed through the air. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

J ESSICA SAT ON the edge of the hospital bed swinging her legs. If Finn asked her one more time how she was feeling, she might just scream at him.

He’d insisted the EMTs take her to the hospital, even though she felt fine. The nurses had checked her vitals several times, listened to her lungs, her heart, and had given her intravenous electrolytes.

She was fine. Gabby Medina was dead.

Why her? Why was this person putting her through this? Could she have saved Gabby’s life if she’d been faster? Smarter? Braver? Stronger?

That’s exactly what Detective Morse wanted to know and had grilled her at the scene, despite Finn’s protests.

Morse wasn’t done with her, either. He wanted her at the station tomorrow morning for the second interrogation.

She didn’t know what else she could tell him.

She’d spilled her guts about the connections to Tiffany’s murder—the card, the doll, the burglary of her sister’s place and the stolen red scarf.

Morse had confiscated her phone, but she already knew the killer had used a different burner phone from the one he’d used the first time he texted her. Maybe Morse should start looking into who was buying up all the burner phones on Kitsap Peninsula.

Finn looked up from his phone. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jessica ground her back teeth together behind a smile. The man had saved her life, after all. “I feel fine. Throat’s a little raw from upchucking a gallon of water. Neck’s sore from where he grabbed me. But I’m just ready to go back to the hotel.”

One of the nurses must’ve been hovering outside because she chose that moment to push through the door. “Ready to leave, Jessica?”

Jessica hopped off the bed. “More than ready.”

Forty-five minutes later, she got her wish as Finn wheeled into the parking lot of the hotel. He wouldn’t let her drive her own car home.

He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. “I’m coming up with you, and I’m staying the night. The nurse warned you might have some complications.”

“She also mentioned that would be very rare, as you Heimliched all that water out of my lungs.” His insistence had put her at ease, though. She didn’t want to go to her room alone. Didn’t want to spend the night alone. Didn’t want to be alone ever again. “What about Bodhi?”

“I already called my neighbor. He probably had a game of fetch in the water, shared some dog food with the golden retriever next door and now they’re both curled up in front of a crackling fire.”

As they stepped into the lobby, the usually friendly desk clerk didn’t even look up from his computer screen when she walked past him.

She’d probably become the town pariah. Would Missy and Gabby even be dead if this guy hadn’t wanted to somehow show off for her?

That’s all she could imagine he was doing.

Why give her, of all people, a heads-up?

Once inside her room, Finn took charge. He pointed to the bathroom. “Wet clothes off. Take a warm shower. I’ll make you some tea.”

She followed his orders and grabbed her pajamas on her way to the bathroom. She shrugged off her damp jacket and peeled her sodden shirt from her body. Her jeans were just dirty, and she kicked those off, too.

The warm spray of the shower hit her face, and she jumped. The memory of her face in the fountain, the strong force pinning her down, had her doubling over. After everything, she hadn’t actually feared the killer as he never seemed interested in harming her…until now.

She washed her hair and hurried through the rest of her shower. She slipped into her pajamas, a practical two-piece set, and ran a dryer over her hair, scrunching up her curls. True to his word, Finn had a cup of hot tea waiting for her on the nightstand.

He patted the bed. “Come over here and relax.”

She appreciated his solicitousness, but she knew he had an ulterior motive—and it wasn’t sex. He hadn’t been present for most of her conversation with Detective Morse, and he wanted the rest of the details. She didn’t blame him. She had questions of her own about Gabby Medina.