Page 5 of The Creekside Murder

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.”

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