Page 3 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)

When the last word left Finn’s lips, Jessica clapped both hands over her mouth, the shock of hearing her sister’s name being connected to Morgan’s murder hitting her square in the chest all over again. She hadn’t imagined the words that had danced before her eyes out there in the woods.

Two lines formed between Finn’s eyebrows as he pinned the open card to the table with the knife. “Were the other cards there as pristine as this one?”

She eked out a breath between her lips. He’d realized the card’s importance instead of dismissing it. “No. The damp and dew had gotten to the other cards. When did the memorial form?”

“When the department removed the crime scene tape, about four days ago. This—” he nudged the card with the knife “—hasn’t been there that long.”

“Someone left it recently, maybe even this morning.” Jessica hunched her shoulders against the shiver weaving up her spine. She could’ve just missed the guy out there.

She flinched when the waitress appeared with their drinks. Jessica pinched the stem of the glass between her fingers and raised it to her lips as Finn waved off the waitress’s offer to pour his beer into a glass.

Closing her eyes, she sipped the wine, the crisp, bright flavor at odds with the subject between them. “What do you think?”

Finn took his time, studying the label on his bottle before taking a long drink. “It could be a tasteless joke.”

“What about that rhyme? What does that all mean? Something stolen? Red?”

“No clue.” He lifted his shoulders to his ears.

“D-do people around here still remember Tiffany’s murder?” Jessica had come to the realization years ago that other people had moved on from her sister’s homicide, even Ashley King and Denny Phelps, Tiffany’s best friend and boyfriend at the time. She didn’t have that luxury.

“Sure they do.” Finn took another pull from his beer. “It’s not like the campus has a murder every year, but they remember her as one of Avery Plank’s victims.”

“But join the club? Not Plank’s club.” She poked at the card with her fork. “Plank is in prison. He didn’t kill Morgan, so what club is this?”

“The murder club. You’re overthinking it, Jessica. Yeah, it’s creepy, it’s crude and rude, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re not a cop anymore, Finn. You’ve lost the instinct.” She swirled her wine in her glass.

“According to you, I never had that instinct.”

Her gaze flew to his face as her cheeks turned pink. “I was just striking out. You were the one who found Tiffany’s body, so I always connected you to the case. When the detectives wouldn’t listen to me, I turned my wrath on you.”

“Is that what you were doing?” He raised one eyebrow. “’Cuz I remember it differently. You hounded me, you played me, you stole from me, you compromised your own sister’s case.”

Burying her chin in her palm, she studied him as he took another sip of his beer. “I didn’t compromise the case. Law enforcement had tunnel vision for Avery Plank.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” He spread his hands, a little calloused for an academic. “Plank confessed.”

She flicked her fingers in the air. “Serial killers always exaggerate their numbers. You know that. What if Plank was lying? What if my sister’s killer is still active…and he just hit again?”

“Ten years is a long time between kills,” he said.

“Could be any number of reasons for that.” She hunched forward, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “This could be a sick joke, but why bring Tiffany’s name up at all?”

Finn rasped his knuckles across the scruff on his strong jaw, and Jessica glanced down at her wine.

Ten years was also a long time between conversations with Finn Karlsson.

Back when Tiffany was murdered, Jessica’d had a hard time separating her rage and grief from her insane attraction to the young cop who’d found her sister’s body.

She hadn’t figured out if she’d been so angry with him because he refused to believe her theories about her sister’s case or because he refused to act on the electricity that sizzled between them.

Finn had gotten even more attractive over the years—that boyish uncertainty replaced with a manly confidence—but did the spark still exist?

She raised her eyes to his, and that blue intensity sparked by interest and passion and excitement still kindled, making her insides flutter. Yep. Still there.

“What are you thinking?” She clutched her wineglass, holding her breath. She knew she’d been right to bring this card to Finn.

He blinked, those stubby dark lashes a striking contrast to his light eyes. “Who says I’m thinking anything at all?”

“You look like you’re about to pounce on something.”

Shrugging, he ran his thumbnail through the foil label on his bottle, dashing her hopes. “What brings you out to Fairwood? Are you really working Morgan’s case, or are you here to thrash yourself some more over your sister’s death?”

“I didn’t…” Jessica scooped in a deep breath and puffed it out through puckered lips. “The case came to our crime lab in Marysville. Seattle is swamped, so we’re processing the bulk of the evidence, especially as there’s no firearm involved or prints—that we know of yet.”

“You don’t do prints in Marysville?”

He cocked his head, that light in his eyes signaling his attention and sincerity. Maybe that’s why she’d homed in on him ten years ago as the go-to guy for her wild theories. He’d actually listened to her ranting. Of course, that’s what had gotten him in trouble.

“No prints in Marysville. DNA and materials analysis only.” She thumped her chest with her palm. “That’s me.”

“You do materials analysis for the forensics lab?” He nodded. “That makes total sense. You could find a chip of paint on a rock of the same color.”

“Or—” she used her napkin to slide the condolence card into an envelope “—a creepy card at a memorial site.”

“How much material evidence was collected at the scene of Morgan’s murder?”

She put a finger to her lips. “I’m not supposed to reveal that information. I haven’t even gotten a look at it yet, anyway. It’s already been collected at the sheriff’s station.”

“You’ll get a list of it, though, right? Maybe I should steal it from you?” Finn sat back and crossed his arms. “Turnabout is fair play.”

She dragged her gaze away from his broad shoulders. Had he gotten that buff carrying around books?

“Look, my little speech before? That was meant to be an apology.” She held up her hands. “I know it’s a little late and I know I ruined your career, but I was running on pure emotion and…”

He rapped on the table, and she snapped her mouth shut. “You did not ruin my career. Straight police work was never a good fit for me. I’ve always had a problem following orders, sort of like you.”

“You think I’m going rogue investigating outside the parameters of my job?” She lifted her shoulders. “Not my fault the original crime scene investigators missed some material evidence.”

“Even you agree that card was most likely left at the scene after the fact. They didn’t miss it.”

“Which actually proves my point—I’m not out of bounds here. Anyone could’ve found that card. It just happened to be me.” She tilted her glass to her lips, eyeing Finn over the rim as he folded his hands around his bottle, the label in shreds. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking what a coincidence it is—you’re the one who finds the card with the reference to your sister.”

“And?” She twirled her finger in the air. “What are you driving at?”

“Haven’t you gotten to the point in your law enforcement career where you’ve learned nothing is a coincidence?”

Jessica’s jaw dropped. “Do you think I planted this to…to…get attention? Reopen my sister’s case?”

“Whoa, slow down with the assumptions.” He formed a cross with his two index fingers. “Did anyone know you were coming out here to have a look around the crime scene?”

She swallowed. Took a sip of wine and swallowed again. “My coworkers know I’m here.”

“Would it be hard for an outsider to figure it out? Do you post on social media, stuff like that?”

“I rarely use social media and definitely wouldn’t broadcast my work schedule or location for everyone to see.” She pinged her fingernail against her almost-empty wineglass. “You’re suggesting that someone left it for me, specifically.”

Tapping the side of his head, he said, “Don’t tell me that steel-trap mind of yours didn’t suspect that when you found it.”

A breath whispered across the back of her neck, and Jessica pressed a hand against her heart pounding in her chest. She had thought that.

“So, it crossed your mind.”

She gulped down the last sip of wine. “It did. Why would Morgan’s killer want to tease me like this if he weren’t also connected to Tiffany’s death?”

“Hang on.” Finn splayed his hands on the table, thumbs touching. “We don’t know that it was Morgan’s killer who left the card, and even if it was her killer who left it, that still doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Tiffany’s murder. He could be playing games with you, with the cops.”

“Creepy either way.” She dragged her purse into her lap and shoved her hand inside to grab her wallet. “I’m going back there.”

“Wait. What?” Finn’s blue eyes widened. “Now?”

“Maybe he knows I took the card. Maybe he’s still hanging around there. Maybe he left another clue.”

“You think you’re going to catch him in the act?” He tossed a few bills on the table before she could open her wallet. “I know I mentioned coincidence, but that’s not gonna happen.”

Leveling a finger at him, she asked, “Don’t you want to see where I found it?”

“You’re inviting me to come along?”

“Would be good to get a cop’s…an ex-cop’s perspective on that altar to Morgan.”

“You just told me I’d lost my cop’s instincts.”

“That sort of thing never goes away, does it? You had it back then, that’s how you found Tiffany, and you still have it.” She dropped her wallet back into her purse. “Let’s go.”

They headed for Finn’s vehicle, which enjoyed a parking place on campus. As they approached the mud-splashed Jeep, Jessica said, “I see you still enjoy the outdoors.”

“Took a trip this past weekend. Didn’t have time to clean it up before class.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Don’t mind the dog hair. Bodhi rides shotgun.”

He slammed the door, and she brushed a little light-colored fur from the seat. If his dog rode shotgun, that probably meant he didn’t have a wife—not that she hadn’t already surreptitiously checked out his left hand.

He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. “I’m not sure what you expect to find out there.”

“Can’t tell you, but after I found the card, I got out of there. I felt like I was being watched, didn’t give myself a chance to look at the other items.” She clasped her hands between her knees. “Maybe I meant to take you back there with me all along.”

“Yeah, barging into my lecture hall shooting questions at me is the way to do it.”

“Bought you a beer, didn’t I?”

“I paid for those drinks.”

“Oh, yeah. Next round’s on me.”

He gave her a glance from the side of his eye, but his lip quirked upward. Maybe he liked that idea.

They stopped talking, each immersed in their own thoughts, as Finn drove the short distance to the crime scene—Morgan’s crime scene.

Earlier, Jessica had parked near her sister’s murder site and followed the river on foot to Morgan’s.

This time, they traversed the trail to Morgan’s memorial in about ten minutes.

The same eerie feeling permeated the air, even with Finn tromping on the trail behind her. The forest seemed to be holding its breath, the critters silent and watchful.

The sound of the gurgling river broke the stillness, and Jessica quickened her pace. Daylight still filtered through the tops of the trees, but the long shadows signaled the setting of the sun. She didn’t want to be there in the dark—Finn or no Finn.

She almost tripped into the clearing, and Finn put a hand on her hip. “You okay?”

“Maybe we should’ve waited until morning for this expedition.” She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, pretty sure they’d popped up because of the location and not Finn’s touch.

“Let’s make this quick.” He flung an arm out toward the pile of teddy bears and flowers. “You have a look at the cards again, and I’ll take some pictures with my phone that you can study later.”

“The stuff looks like it’s been moved around since this afternoon.” Jessica ran her tongue around her dry mouth.

“How can you tell?” Finn marched toward the memorial, pulling his phone from his pocket.

She followed him, dragging her feet. As she crouched next to the mound of memorial items left with the best of intentions, she reached for the cards she’d stacked earlier.

She glimpsed a black button eye from the depths of the pile, and her hands froze. With trembling fingers, she nudged aside the stuffed animals and candles to reveal the doll, staring at her from the center of the heap with its single eye.

Falling back in the dirt, she let out a piercing cry.

“What’s wrong?” Finn swung around.

“That doll.” She pointed a finger at the dirty rag doll with yellow braids and a red-checked blouse.

“Kind of odd, but what’s the problem? Maybe Morgan had a thing for rag dolls.” He cocked his head and dropped to his knees beside her. “You’re really spooked.”

She dragged her gaze away from the horrifying sight and clutched Finn’s arm. “You don’t understand. That’s my doll. My childhood doll.”