“Sure. It’s Saturday night. Why not live it up?”
“You don’t have to babysit. My leg feels fine, and I’ll probably just go to bed early.”
Courtney tossed back the last of her wine and held out her glass to Elise. “No problem. I’m tired from last night anyway. Besides, what did that reporter say? Is it even safe to go out at night?”
Elise took the glass by the stem and padded back to the kitchen, running her tongue along her lower lip. Apparently, it wasn’t even safe for her to go out in broad daylight. At least not without the protection of Detective Sean Brody.
And how long could that last?
* * *
SEAN STARED AT the severed finger with the blue nail polish nestled in cotton. The package in which it had been delivered had come addressed to SFPD—Homicide. But when the front desk opened the box, they’d found the gruesome souvenir with a note pasted in the lid of the box: This finger is pointing at you, Brody.
“What does it mean, Brody?” Captain Williams’s dark eyes drilled him. “This along with the note at the escaped victim’s house make it clear that this is the same guy—and for some reason he’s got it in for you.”
“I’m supposed to know why?” Sean closed the lid on the finger and pushed it across the captain’s desk. “Has the lab tested the finger yet?”
“Not yet, but who else’s could it be?” Captain Williams steepled his own fingers and peered at Sean over the pinnacle. “I don’t like this communication business, Brody.”
Sean pinched the bridge of his nose. “That makes two of us.”
“We took a risk bringing you into homicide, a risk I never regretted for one minute based on your performance.”
“Until now?” Sean’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair.
“Do you really think this killer would be sending you messages and uh...other gifts if not for your father?”
“Serial killers send messages to homicide detectives. It happens all the time.”
Williams snorted. “Happens all the time in movies and TV. You and I both know it’s not so common in real life.”
“What do you want from me, Captain? I’m not going to hide under a rock. I have a murder and an attempted murder to solve, and if this guy wants to give me clues, so be it. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“All right. I just hope some hotshot reporter doesn’t start snooping around and dredging up old news. The department doesn’t need it.”
“Neither do I, sir.”
“Now, do your job and—” he waved one hand over the box on his desk “—take this thing with you.”
Sean picked up the box and walked out of the captain’s office, his back stiff and his chin held high. If just one person mentioned his father, he’d deck ’em.
He strode down the hallway, holding the box in front of him, daring anyone to make a comment. Nobody even seemed to notice what he was holding.
Blowing out a breath, he poked his head into the lab. “I think you guys are waiting for a finger.”
Tom Kwan, one of their forensic guys, smirked. “I could go all out with the black humor of that comment, but you already look like you’re in a black humor so I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Good idea, Kwan.” Sean placed the box on one of the chrome tables. He could exchange gallows humor with the best of them. It blew off steam, made the unbearable bearable. But with Elise out there in danger, it didn’t seem right.
“When are we getting the finger, and I don’t mean from the captain.” Jacoby had burst through another door and stopped short when he saw Sean. “I guess you heard.”
“Heard,” Sean flicked the box, “and saw. We’ve got one twisted individual on our hands. I thought he’d kept the finger as a trophy.”
“I’m gonna take the print, but we all know it belongs to Katie. Same blue polish, same missing digit. Elise Duran was one lucky lady.”
Kwan tapped his chin. “I wonder if he took the finger before or after he killed her. That’s gotta hurt.”
“I’ll leave you to figure that out. I’m outta here.” Sean backed out of the lab with a queasy stomach. Kwan’s morbid fascinations had never bothered him before. Before Elise.
That’s why you never make it personal, son.
His father’s voice rumbled up from Sean’s subconscious. Where had that come from? Was it something his father actually said to him?
Jacoby’s head popped out of the lab door. “Brody, I meant to tell you, I didn’t get any prints from Elise’s house other than Elise’s.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what we figured anyway.”
“Her house was clean. Doesn’t look like she has anyone over—ever.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. “And your point?”
Jacoby shrugged his pumped-up shoulders. “Just thought I’d let you know. In case you want to make a move.”
“Why, do you?”
“You’re the hotshot detective.” Jacoby dove back into the lab to dodge the barb Sean was getting ready to fling at him.
Sean dropped into his chair and shuffled through a few messages at his desk. Nothing from Elise. That didn’t mean he couldn’t check on her. He should’ve never kissed her, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t call her. Did it?
He dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out Courtney Chu’s business card. She’d scribbled her home phone number on the back.
He ran his thumb along the edge of the card once, twice and then punched in the number. With each successive ring, the knots got tighter in his gut. When he got Courtney’s voice mail, the words rasped from his dry throat.
“This is Detective Brody. I’m calling...”
“Hello, Sean? It’s Elise.”
Her breathy voice capped his growing dread, and he slumped in his chair. “For a minute there, I thought you two had gone out.”
“My leg’s feeling okay but not that good, and Courtney stayed in with me and cooked dinner.”
“Your leg’s bothering you? Do you need to go back to the hospital?”
“It’s throbbing a bit, but I can handle it with a little ibuprofen.”
“Take a lot if you need it.”
“Any new developments in the case?”
“Some things I can’t share.”
“Not even with someone who’s intimately involved...with the case?”
Sean hunched over his desk and cupped his hand around the receiver. “I’m sorry about...about what happened in the hallway.”
“No apology necessary, but an explanation would be nice.”
“An explanation?” Maybe he’d have to rethink his appreciation of her forthrightness. “Don’t people do that in Montana?”
“Kiss? Yep, lots of that going on in Montana.”
“That’s a start. I’m glad you recognized the gesture.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Sean. You kissed me right after you told me to stay out of your life. And I’m not saying people in Montana don’t send conflicting messages with their kisses, because they do. I’m saying I don’t.”
“Can’t I just excuse myself by admitting I’m a caveman? I acted on impulse without thinking.”
“But you’re not the impulsive type, are you?”
“I can be.” Especially looking into a pair of big blue eyes.
“If you’re so impulsive, tell me what upset you so much tonight.”
He cleared his throat. “It was another message from the killer. That’s the game he’s playing, but I’m glad he’s playing it with me now instead of you.”
“Whether we like it or not, I’m involved in this and I appreciate your openness.”
After Sean hung up the phone, he stared at it until his eyes ached and grew bleary. He hadn’t been open with Elise at all, and he had no intentio
n of inviting her into his misery.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, a dull pain in Elise’s leg woke her up and the fear she kept tamping down in her semiconscious state welled to the surface. Closing her eyes, she massaged her thigh around the stitches and took a couple of deep breaths.
Last night she’d sensed Sean holding back, but she couldn’t force him to confide in her. She could get through this with or without Sean Brody. With would be better, a lot better.
She stretched her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Then she shuffled across the hardwood floor and poked her head out the door of Courtney’s spare bedroom. Nothing but silence greeted her.
Determined to earn her keep, she shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops and made her way down to the kitchen. She blended some plain yogurt with a few berries, sprinkled some granola on top and added a sliced banana.
She found a couple of stale bagels, dropped them into the toaster oven and began pouring water into the coffeemaker.
“Stop right there.” A sleepy-eyed Courtney lounged against the entryway to the kitchen, yawning. “The breakfast looks great, but I’ll handle the coffee. You don’t even drink the stuff.”
Elise backed away from the coffeemaker. “It’s all yours. I don’t want to mess with your morning elixir.”
Courtney brushed past her and grabbed a bag of coffee beans. “You did realize you’d have to grind the beans first, didn’t you?”
“Of course.” Elise dipped a spoon into the yogurt. “How old are the bagels? I figured we could toast away the staleness.”
“They’re not that old. I have some cream cheese, too.” She pointed to the fridge. “How’s your leg feeling?”
“Sore. I took some ibuprofen.”
“Are you going to stay home from school tomorrow?”
“No way. We have all kinds of activities planned for the last few days of school. It’s the best part of the school year.”
Courtney pursed her lips as she flipped the switch for the coffee grinder.
When the grating noise stopped, Elise crossed her arms and said, “What? Why are you looking like a disapproving schoolmarm?”
“Maybe you should just take personal leave for the rest of the school year and get out of Dodge.”
“You mean turn and run away with my tail between my legs?”
“You’re allowed to be a coward. Nobody expects you to hunt this guy down.”
Elise curled her fingers into her upper arms. “He had his second chance to kill me and he sliced my leg instead. He knows I already gave his description to the police, and he’s not worried about it because he was wearing a disguise. There’s nothing I can do to him now.”
“He doesn’t know what you told the police. For all he knows, you could remember more details. You’re a threat to him, Elise. And that makes him dangerous.”
The ringing phone made them both jump. “Who’s calling this time of the morning?”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
Courtney made a face and answered the phone. “Good morning. Yes, she’s right here.”
She pressed the receiver against her thigh and whispered. “It’s the hunky cop.”
“Give it over.” Elise rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers for the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Elise. It’s Sean Brody. How are you doing this morning?”
So much better right at this minute.
“I’m good. Leg’s a little sore, but that’s stitches for you. Any more news since last night?” She hadn’t expected to hear his voice last thing before she went to bed and then first thing this morning. Not that she was complaining.
“Nothing new, although the woman at the Presidio may have been a victim of domestic violence. Seems her boyfriend has disappeared.” He coughed. “I’m in front of the building on the street. I was just driving by.”
“Do you want to come up?”
“I can’t leave the car.”
“I’ll be right down. Give me a minute.”
She ended the call and dashed upstairs with Courtney’s questions trailing after her. She pulled on her jeans from yesterday and zipped a sweatshirt over her pajama top.
Breathless, she stopped at the front door. “Sean’s downstairs. I’m just going to say hello.”
“Is this what they call community policing?” Courtney winked.
With her step lighter than it should be, Elise skipped downstairs and squinted as she hit the sidewalk.
Sean waved out the open window of his Crown Vic, and Elise approached the car on the passenger side.
The passenger window slid down, and she hunched over and thrust her head inside the car, resting her arms on the window frame. She inhaled the masculine scent of the car—new leather and fresh soap.
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“I was—” he waved his hand vaguely out the window “—in the area. Are you going to get that phone today?”
“I might as well get a permanent phone instead of a pay-as-you-go. I’m not sure I can ever use that other phone again.”
“I don’t blame you.” He opened his car door. “I need to stretch my legs.”
He joined her on the sidewalk and wedged his hip against the car. “One of the detectives stopped by the club yesterday and gave them a sketch. Nobody remembers the guy. We’re also reviewing some video from some cameras at the bridge and Chinatown. He’s going to trip up, Elise.”
She scuffed her toe against the cement. “I agree that he’s going to screw up, and I appreciate that you’re taking the time to keep me informed. Really.”
“I know what’s it like to be left out of the loop, and while I can’t let you in on everything, I don’t want to keep you completely in the dark.”
His eyes seemed to be looking beyond her face and he’d escaped to that place where she couldn’t reach him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone moving quickly toward her on the sidewalk. Sean noticed him at the same time. He snapped to attention and his head jerked up as he pushed off the car.
Elise’s mouth dropped open and she stumbled back. This was not happening.
Sean caught her as she tripped, and then spun around in a crouch, his fists raised.
She screamed. “Wait! I know him.”
“No kidding. I’m Elise’s fiancé.”
Chapter Nine
Sean lowered his hands, but his fists remained clenched at his sides. He shot a sideways glance at Elise, whose face sported three different shades of red. But she didn’t look afraid. Angry, but not afraid.
“What are you doing here, Ty?”
“What do you think? I’m here to take you home.”
“I am home.” She twisted her head around to look at Courtney’s building. “Sort of.”
“You don’t belong here. You’re coming back with me.”
Elise made a cross with her fingers and held them in front of her. “No, I’m not. And stop calling yourself my fiancé. That ended a long time ago.”
That last line finally made Sean’s shoulders relax. He knew Elise wasn’t hiding anything.
Not like him.
“Who is this, Elise, and what’s he doing here?”
The man threw back his shoulders and his cold blue eyes raked Sean from head to toe. “Who are you?”
“This is ridiculous. Ty, this is Detective Sean Brody. Sean, this is Ty Russell from back home, and I have no idea what he’s doing here or how he found me.”
Ty took a step back. “I found out what happened to you, and I’m here to bring you back.”
Elise closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. “How in the world did you find out and how did you find me here?”
“I have my sources.”
&
nbsp; Elise raked her hands through her loose hair. “Oh, please. Did you con Courtney somehow? Because we both know what a con artist you are.”
The man physically flinched as if Elise had slapped him. Obviously, these two had history but it sure didn’t sound as if they were engaged anymore—if they ever were.
“Someone attacked you and broke into your house. You’re not safe here.” He turned to Sean. “Detective, don’t you agree?”
He did agree, but he didn’t want Elise going back to Montana with this cowboy—her ex-fiancé. And what did he do to become Elise’s ex? Must’ve been something really stupid.
“I’m...we’re doing what we can to keep Elise safe. The choice is hers.”
Ty narrowed his eyes as his gaze shifted between him and Elise.
Had his feelings for Elise seeped into his voice? What were his feelings for Elise?
“Thank you very much.” She stamped her bare foot on the ground. “Go home, Ty—alone. I’m not going with you, now or ever.”
Ty’s face reddened and his face puffed up as if he was about to explode. Had he been abusive toward Elise?
“Step off.” Sean inserted himself between Ty and Elise.
Ty sputtered. “Are you kidding me? Why don’t you go get yourself a doughnut and leave me to talk some sense into my fiancée?”
“Thanks, but I don’t eat doughnuts.” Sean drew his shoulders back. “And Elise already told you she’s not engaged to you, so giddyap on back to Wyoming.”
Ty’s mouth gaped open and he bunched his hands in front of him. “It’s Montana.”
“Whatever.” He dropped his gaze to Ty’s white-knuckled fists. “Or I can take you in for disturbing the peace.”
Ty jabbed his finger in the air. “I’m not giving up on you, Elise. I’ll be here for a few days if you change your mind, and if you don’t I’ll bring your brothers down here with me to this freak-show city to get you home.”
“Buh-bye.” Elise curled her fingers into a wave. “Try the sourdough bread bowl with clam chowder on your way out of the freak show.”
Ty grunted and stalked off, calling over his shoulder, “I’m staying at some dump in Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“Good. You can get the bread bowl there.” She tossed back her hair and sighed. “I can’t believe Courtney called him. It had to be her. I thought she was on my side.”
THE BRIDGE Page 9
