Читать книгу Brody Law: The Bridge / The District / The Wharf / The Hill - Carol Ericson - Страница 15

Chapter Eight

Only half listening to Courtney’s exclamations, Elise directed her gaze at Sean clutching his cell phone to his ear. With his back turned toward her, she couldn’t see his face but his shoulders had a rigid set and his white knuckles made it look as if he could crush that phone with one hand.

Courtney snapped her fingers. “Earth to Elise.”

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Never mind.” Courtney turned her head to look at Sean. “Not as important as some things.”

Sean ended the call and took a few steps into the room, his face stern and white. “Duty calls. I gotta go back to the station. Take care of that leg, and don’t forget to pick up a phone and give me the number.”

“My leg’s fine, and I’ll get that phone.” Elise pushed up from the sofa. “Hold on, I’ll see you out.”

Courtney waved. “Bye, nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

Elise stepped into the hallway with him and pulled the door shut. “Is everything okay?”

He relaxed his jaw enough to speak. “Everything’s fine, except we have a diabolical killer loose in the city.”

“What was the call about?”

“Murder and mayhem—just an ordinary day on the job. That’s my life, Elise, and you don’t need to hear about it.”

Did he think she couldn’t handle reality? She grabbed his arm and his biceps felt like granite. “You can tell me. You don’t have to push me away.”

He cupped her face in one large hand and stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Yes, I do.”

His touch belied his words, and his proximity had her breath coming in short spurts. “But I don’t want you to.”

The harsh kiss he pressed against her mouth came so suddenly, it took her breath way. Just as quickly it ended and he turned on his heel and disappeared into the stairwell.

Elise put two fingers to her bruised lips and backed into Courtney’s condo.

“Sean Brody is one hot detective.” Courtney’s words sang out amid the banging of cupboard doors and pots and pans.

Closing her eyes, Elise took a deep breath and then turned and joined her friend in the kitchen. “Good-looking guy, but still a cop.”

Courtney dropped a package of pasta on the countertop. “Are cops off-limits for some reason?”

“Oh, you know.” Elise waved her hand in the air. “Control issues.”

“Small price to pay, girl. And I’d say you’re the one with control issues. He’s obviously interested.”

“Why do you say that?” Courtney involuntarily brushed the tips of her fingers against her chin where Sean’s stubble had scratched her.

“I’m a therapist, remember? I’m trained to read people, even people as zipped up as Detective Brody.”

“Do you think he’s zipped up?”

Courtney bit her lip as she filled a pot with water. “He holds himself very still, holds his emotions in check. But, come on. What cop goes out of his way to escort a witness around? Even a cute little girl-next-door like you?”

“I think he’s just doing his job and he’s thorough.” Elise tugged on the ends of Courtney’s hair. “How was your client this afternoon?”

“I had to talk her down from a ledge, but she was okay.”

“Not literally?”

“An emotional ledge.” Courtney presented a bottle of wine to Elise, label out. “I think you need a little vino tonight.”

“I think you’re right.” She took the bottle from Courtney and held out her hand. “Corkscrew.”

Elise poured two glasses of wine and sidled next to Courtney at the sink. “Let me make the salad since you’re sacrificing your Saturday night to stay in with me, and don’t even deny it. Did Derrick ever call?”

“He texted me. We’ll probably get together sometime this week. He’s out of town this weekend.” She stirred the pasta into the bubbling water as steam rose to the ceiling.

They worked side by side in the kitchen for several minutes, and Elise soaked in the normalcy. She had a hard time grasping the events of the past twenty-four hours. She’d been abducted, had escaped and had been attacked again—and she’d met Sean Brody. This time yesterday, she’d been getting ready to go out with Courtney.

As her friend dumped the pasta into a colander in the sink, Elise carried the salad to the table. “Do you mind if I turn on the local evening news?”

“Really? I don’t mind but it’s the last thing I thought you’d want to watch.” Courtney wiped her hands on a dish towel and retrieved the remote from the coffee table in the living room.

They settled at the kitchen table, and the smell of the garlic mingled with the hint of fennel in the sausage to make Elise’s mouth water. She took a sip of red wine, lolling it on her tongue before she swallowed.

Then she clicked on the TV and muted the sound. She kept her eye on the commercials as she stabbed a couple of rigatoni with her fork. “Yummy. You’ll have to give me...”

A wind-blown reporter was speaking into a mic, a shot of the Golden Gate Bridge behind him. Elise pointed the remote at the TV and stabbed at the volume button.

“...found this morning by a couple of fishermen.” The reporter backed up to the yellow crime tape flapping in the breeze. “Detective? Detective? Ray Lopez, KFGG News. Can you tell us anything about the victim? Does this murder have anything to do with the transient murders in the Tenderloin or that woman found near the Presidio?”

Sean’s profile looked carved from stone. He barely moved his lips when he said, “No comment at this time.”

“What about the attack on the woman last night? Is this related, Detective?”

“No comment.” Sean turned his back on the reporter and bent his head to talk with one of the cops on the scene.

“There you have it, Jan. The police are keeping tight-lipped about this one, but the women of this city want to know. Is it safe to go out at night?”

The anchor and the reporter prattled on for several more seconds before Elise muted the TV again. “I guess my story’s already out there.”

“Sounds like it.” Courtney raised her glass and swirled the contents. “But if those vultures ever get your name, make sure you follow Brody’s example. No comment. They’ll tear you apart.”

“The last thing I need is publicity.”

Courtney ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “Detective Brody sounds familiar to me. Did he write a book or something? Or maybe he was involved in a big case.”

“If so, it was before my time here.”

“Brody, Brody.” Courtney’s brow furrowed. “He must’ve been in the news.”

“Probably. More wine?”

“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 intention 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.”