Page 9 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)

Jessica’s gaze tracked back to the doll, hoping to find some answers in its unblinking button eye. “Did you report it to the police?”

“The police?” Ashley stroked a cigarette she’d hastily plucked from the pack.

“Jessie, it was just a doll. No offense, but I didn’t like the thing anyway.

Gave me the creeps. I figured one of our friends took it as a joke or one of Denny’s high-as-a-kite friends snatched it.

There was a guy hanging around Tiff at the time, but he left before the murder. ”

“I meant after the murder. Did you report the theft to the police after Tiffany turned up dead?” Jessica eyed the cigarette. A few more minutes with these two and she just might snatch it from Ashley and smoke it herself.

“Honestly—” Ashley held up her hand as if swearing in court “—I forgot all about it. It’s not like someone broke in and burglarized us. Tiff mentioned it one day, and I shrugged it off.”

“But someone could’ve broken in to take it.” She glanced at Denny, who yawned and rubbed his eyes. He’d already checked out. “Denny, did you mention the theft of the doll to the cops?”

“I didn’t even know it was gone, Jessie. What’s the big deal about it? Somebody left a rag doll for Morgan that looks like one Tiff had.”

“You don’t get it.” She shook the doll by the torso, and its legs and arms flopped in the air. “This is the same doll. The exact same doll that was stolen from Tiffany two weeks before she was murdered, same missing eye and everything.”

Ashley and Denny exchanged a look, as if wondering when to call in the little men with the white jackets. Jessica closed her eyes and stuffed the doll back in the bag. “I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about a sympathy card left at the site that mentioned Tiffany, either, right?”

“Look, Jessie.” Ashley scooted toward her on the couch and hung an arm around her shoulders. “I know you loved your sister, and you were the world to Tiff, but she’s gone, honey. Plank is behind bars, and you got a chance to help another murder victim now.”

“She’s right, Jessie.” Denny stroked his goatee. “If we hear anything weird about Morgan’s murder, we’ll call you. Right, babe? Put Jessie’s number in your phone.”

After exchanging numbers with Ashley and hugging her sister’s two best friends, Jessica stepped outside and took a deep breath of the fresh pine.

Was she losing it? Was the rag doll just the same type of doll that happened to be missing the same eye on her face?

Had the same ribbons? The same yellow yarn hair?

As she stepped up to her car, her cell phone rang. She swallowed hard as she saw her supervisor’s name on the display. “Hey, Michael.”

“Hi, Jessica. Are you coming to the lab today? I expected your report by today on all the physical evidence collected at the Morgan Flemming crime scene. How’d the meeting go with the sheriff’s department?”

“Uh…” She slid into her car and slammed the door “I haven’t had that meeting, yet, Michael.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the explosion. The silence was worse. “Are you still there?”

He cleared his throat. He’d mellowed a lot since getting custody of his daughter. “Is the sheriff’s department giving you the runaround?”

“No, it’s me.” She started the engine and powered down the window to get some air.

“I-I found some interesting items at the scene, at the memorial set up for Morgan. I sort of went off on a tangent, but I’ll schedule that meeting for today, if possible, and I can transport the material evidence to the lab tomorrow. ”

“What interesting items did you find?”

“A condolence card that mentioned… Tiffany Hunt.”

“Someone left a card referencing your sister?”

“Yeah, weird, huh?” She chewed on her bottom lip.

Michael knew all about her obsession with her sister’s case.

He’d told her a few times it’s why he believed she was so dogged when it came to analyzing the material evidence from other cases—but he wouldn’t want her…

compulsion to interfere with other cases.

“Have you tracked down the card yet? Found out if any local stores stock it, if anyone purchased it recently, camera footage?”

She thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. She didn’t need Michael Wilder telling her how to do her job. She should’ve already followed up on the card by now. “Haven’t done that yet, but it’s on my list.”

“Too busy visiting Avery Plank?”

A breath snagged in her throat. She knew better than to ask Michael how he’d come by that information. He had connections she could only dream about. “I thought that would be a good move, as I saw my sister’s name on that card.”

He snorted. “Except you would’ve had to have scheduled that meeting with Plank way in advance of finding that card. Tell me, Jessica. Are you in Fairwood to analyze the evidence in the Morgan Flemming homicide, or are you there to continue the investigation into your sister’s?”

“Both?” She pinned her shoulders against the seat back. “I mean, both. I’m here to do my job, but I can’t help taking a second look at Tiffany’s case.”

“Then do it. As long as you get your work done, I don’t care what you do on the side, Jessica.”

“I’m on it. And I swear, Michael, I have a feeling about this. I think the more I dig into my sister’s case, the more I’ll discover about Morgan’s killer.” She thumped her chest with the flat of her hand. “It’s instinct.”

“I’ve always trusted your instincts. Don’t let me down, and more importantly, don’t let Morgan down.”

As Michael hadn’t demanded her presence at the lab today, Jessica rushed back to her hotel to start working on that card.

Of course, the person who’d left the card could’ve purchased it online or in a different area, but she should’ve thought of tracing the card as soon as she’d found it. Her brain wasn’t functioning correctly.

Michael was right. She owed it to Morgan and Morgan’s family to do her job. The card wasn’t only a lead on Tiffany’s case, but it could lead to a clue on Morgan’s, as well.

She pulled into the parking lot of her hotel, and her phone rang again. Holding her breath, she looked at the display—not Michael checking up on her.

“Hi, Finn. How was your class this morning?”

“Good. How’d it go with Ashley?”

“Better than expected in some ways. I ran into Denny at her place.”

“Denny Phelps? What was he doing there?”

“They’re a thing. Apparently, they started seeing each other after Tiffany’s death. I could tell Ashley was uncomfortable about it, but I don’t begrudge them their happiness. I learned a few things, though.”

“Do you want to tell me over dinner? I have office hours, a faculty meeting and an online meeting with my editor.”

Had he just asked her out on a date? There had been so much sexual tension between them when he was a fresh cop and she was a college student looking for answers to her sister’s murder, but once he realized she’d been using him to get information about the case, he’d dropped her.

She’d realized at the time that he’d never believe her if she told him that it hadn’t all been an act on her part. She hadn’t even tried.

Now the sparks still kindled, but it was her turn to doubt. Did he have ulterior motives related to his book? Did he want to get close to her and her investigation to sabotage it?

“Jessica? Dinner? My treat.”

“Sure. Yeah. I talked to my supervisor today, and he suggested I run a trace on the condolence card, which I should’ve already implemented. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him about the doll, but I’ll give you the details about that tonight. Seven?”

“I’ll pick you up at your hotel.”

He ended the call before she could change her mind— not that she wanted to change it. She valued his insight, and she owed him. If he wanted fodder for his book, he could try to find it.

Back in her hotel room, she snapped on some blue gloves and removed the card from the safe in the closet. She flipped it over and studied the back.

Any store, including online ones, would carry this brand of card, but she could probably search most of the stores in Fairwood in a few afternoons. Might as well start now and fill up the time before meeting Finn for dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, she hit the first store.

The clerk at the counter greeted her as she breezed through the front door of the small drugstore.

She found a small slotted shelf of cards in the back near the batteries and phone chargers.

Not one sympathy card peeked out from the rows of birthday cards and a smattering of early Halloween cards. People sent cards for Halloween?

The local grocery store didn’t carry cards, and a T-shirt and knickknack shop featured only handmade cards from artists in the area. She bought two of those cards.

Peeking through the window of a convenience store, she spotted a rotating rack filled with cards.

She stepped through the front doors and made a beeline for the rack.

She spun it around until she saw a few thank-you and sympathy cards.

She plucked the two sympathy cards from their spots.

One glance told her they weren’t the same as the one she found at Morgan’s memorial, but the same greeting card company produced them. Progress.

She took the bagged card to the counter and held it out to the clerk. “Do you know if your store carried this particular card?”

The guy shoved his hair from his face and squinted at the card. “Is it back there?”

“No, but there are two from the same company. I was just wondering if this card may have been purchased here.” She jiggled the plastic bag pinched between her fingertips at the clerk, as he seemed to be rapidly losing interest in her questions.

He blinked. “Do you have a receipt? Looks like it’s been used. We can’t take it back.”

“I didn’t buy it. I wanted to know—” she spun around and rolled her eyes “—never mind.”