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“How’s your leg feeling?”
Without looking up from her task, she replied, “Fine.”
“Do you need me to do anything? Check your locks? Leave a lamp on?”
She stood back from the overflowing suitcase, hands on her hips. “You like to help, don’t you?”
Heat crawled up his neck and he took a big bite of the banana. Chewing allowed him to avoid the question. He swallowed and shrugged. “I’m a cop. That’s what we do.”
“Ah, but which came first?” She plunged her hands into the suitcase to flatten the clothes. “Did your desire to help people encourage you to become a cop, or once you became a cop did you just naturally develop that trait?”
He swung the banana peel back and forth. “You know, I never analyzed it. The career runs in the family.”
“Really?”
“My brothers are all in law enforcement.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Three.”
“That’s a coincidence. I have three brothers, too.”
Great. He needed to change this subject. If he spent much more time in Elise’s presence, he’d be revealing all his secrets. Secrets better kept to himself.
He backed out of the room, waving the banana peel. “I’m going to toss this.”
When he returned to the bedroom, he took up his position at the door. “So, what do your brothers do?”
“Make my life miserable.” She leaned on the suitcase with one hand and used the other to yank at the zipper.
Sean took two steps into the room, hunched over and held the suitcase down while she zipped it. “Mine can do that, too.”
Still bent over the suitcase, she turned suddenly and her golden hair brushed his arm. “Nice to see a human side to you, Detective.”
He didn’t move an inch. The ends of her ponytail tickled his arm. The pulse in her throat beat out waves of her floral perfume. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and humor.
Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds, and in those few seconds he had an overwhelming urge to take possession of her plump lips. To lose himself in the rush of senses that her presence stirred in him. To find out what it felt like to taste sunshine.
The over-the-top thoughts running through his mind must’ve shown on his face.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she lodged the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth.
He didn’t need a body language expert to tell him what her response meant. Hell, he was a body language expert. If he kissed her now, he’d meet no resistance.
He smacked his palms on the lid of the suitcase and straightened to his full height, feeling as if he were emerging from a spell. “School stuff?”
“What?” Elise blinked her eyes.
“I can take your suitcase out to the car while you get your school materials.”
“Oh, yeah. I keep them all together in a bag.” She swiveled her head from side to side as if lost in her own house.
Sean hoisted the suitcase from the bed, pulled out the handle and stated the obvious. “I’ll take this.”
She nodded and scooted past him into the living room to retrieve her school bag.
Sean loaded the suitcase in the car and returned to the house.
Elise dropped her school bag at his feet. “I forgot my shampoo and stuff. I’ll dump it in another bag.”
She darted for the hallway, and Sean followed. As she plucked items from her medicine chest and a shower caddy, Sean pointed to the mirror. “Do you want me to clean that up? We got all the evidence we’re going to get from it.”
“Go ahead. It’s your message.” She hitched the bag over her shoulder and tilted her head. “Did you ever figure out what it meant?”
“He hasn’t contacted me again. Probably just a jab at law enforcement.”
He’d figured the guy probably knew his history and was taunting him. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“There’s a roll of paper towels on the counter and window cleaner under the sink in the kitchen.”
The lipstick smeared the mirror as he swept damp paper towels across it. A few more swipes and the words disappeared. If only he could erase them from his mind as easily.
Elise hovered at the bathroom door. “Ready? I have everything.”
“Let’s go.” He crumpled the used paper towels in his hand and dropped them into the kitchen trash and replaced the glass cleaner under the sink.
He loaded her remaining bags in the trunk of his car and took off for what he hoped would be her safe house for a while.
They wended their way through the city streets as the late-afternoon sun streamed through the buildings and glinted off the water that made an occasional appearance when they crested a hill.
Sean pulled into the lot at the Central Station in Chinatown, where Elise’s hybrid huddled between two patrol cars. If the killer had followed her here, where had he parked? Spaces were at a premium and he wouldn’t have wanted to risk a parking ticket, which could be traced.
Maybe he’d watched from his car as she went into the restaurant and then figured he’d have time to park in a public lot near Union Square and pick up her trail on foot when she’d finished lunch. However he’d done it, the guy was no amateur.
Had he killed before somewhere else and then taken his sick proclivities on the road to terrorize a new city?
He pulled behind Elise’s car, leaving the engine running.
She opened the door and placed one foot on the ground. “Aren’t you going to transfer my bags from your car to mine?”
“I told you. I’m following you over. I’ll bring your bags in for you when we get there.”
She rattled off her friend’s address. “In case I lose you on the way.”
He whistled. “Nice neighborhood.”
“Family money. Their parents owned a lot of properties here, including that house where I live.”
“Good. That’s a safe part of town.”
He followed Elise’s car. She drove so slowly, there’s no way she could lose him—and probably no way she could’ve avoided being tailed by her stalker, no matter what she believed.
She pulled in front of a modern building, supported by gleaming white pillars. She pointed out her car window at a driveway that sloped down toward a wrought-iron gate.
Sean made a U-turn and parked in front of the condo complex while Elise rolled into the parking garage. He popped the trunk and gathered Elise’s two bags over one shoulder and settled her suitcase on its wheels.
“I can take one of those.” Elise had appeared on a walkway next to the driveway.
“I got ’em. Lead the way.” He followed her up the marble tile steps, and she used her friend’s key to open the front door. “Is your friend going to be home?”
“I have no idea.”
They went to the second floor and Elise stopped at one of just three doors on the hallway. She knocked first, listened and then unlocked the door.
The decor of the condo almost blinded him—modern, tasteful and white. He preferred Elise’s jumble of colorful styles.
She called out, “Courtney?”
There was an upstairs as well, and Elise stood at the foot of the staircase, her hand resting on the chrome banister.
“I guess she’s not home yet.”
Sean parked her suitcase in a corner and piled her other two bags on top of it. “I’ll stick around until she gets here.”
Elise spun around and plopped down on the second step of the staircase. “Did you find out anything about the woman on my phone?”
“Her name’s Katie Duncan, twenty-five years old.”
“Duncan? That’s weird.”
“Do you know the name?”
“Duncan, Duran—maybe he’s going through the phone book.” She snapped her fingers. “What was the name of the other woman? The one found at the Presidio?”
“Carlson.”
Her eyes popped. “C, D.”
“Are you in the phone book?” Sean’s hand tightened on the banister. Of course, he’d noticed the similarity between Elise’s and Katie’s names, but who used phone books anymore?
“No, I’m not. I suppose it’s just a coincidence, but maybe he’s looking at some alphabetical list of something.”
Pain needled the back of his neck and he clasped it, rolling his head.
“Are you okay?”
“Headache.” He dropped to the bottom step and leaned against the wall. “Katie wasn’t a teacher, so it’s not some alphabetical list of teachers.”
“What did she do?”
“She was a legal secretary.”
“Had she ever been to the Speakeasy, like me?”
“We’re looking into it.” He leveled a finger at her. “You’re becoming a good detective.”
“I have a vested interest in seeing Katie’s, and maybe the Carlson woman’s, killer nailed. I don’t want to live in fear. He may not know where I’m staying now, but he knows my name. Who knows what kind of info he can get on me?”
A key scraped in the lock and the front door swung open. Sean jumped to his feet as a young Asian woman stumbled into the entryway loaded down with shopping bags.
She stopped when she saw them and dropped half the bags. “You scared the spit out of me!”
“Sorry.” Elise squeezed past him on the stairs and hugged her friend, bags and all. “Courtney, this is Detective Sean Brody. Sean, this is Courtney Chu.”
Courtney dropped the rest of her bags and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She arched an eyebrow at Elise. “Is he moving in, too?”
“N-no. He, well, he followed me here. There was an incident at the Dragon Boat Parade.”
“What?” Courtney gripped Elise’s shoulders.
“I was attacked.”
Courtney let out a yelp and then herded Elise to her spotless living room and sat her down.
Elise told her the story while Courtney alternately gasped, cursed and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Elise, this is crazy.” She turned on Sean, her black hair whipping across her face. “What are you doing to catch this guy?”
“Everything we can.” He pulled the sketch Elise had helped create out of his pocket and smoothed out the creases. “Here he is. You didn’t notice him in the club that night, did you? You didn’t notice anyone watching Elise?”
“Look at her.” She jerked her thumb at Elise. “She’s gorgeous. Of course I noticed guys watching her, but not this nut job.”
Sean’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing at the display. “It’s the station. I’m going to take this and then I’ll get out of your way.”
He rose from the chair and wandered into the kitchen as Elise and her friend continued their excited chatter.
“Brody.”
“Brody, it’s Curtis. You’d better get down here.”
Sean’s heart pounded and the blood thudded in his ears. “What’s up?”
“That dead girl we found today? Katie Duncan?”
“Yeah?” With his mouth suddenly gone dry, Sean could barely form the word.
“Her killer sent you a message.”
“What’d it say?” Sean clenched his jaw where a muscle twitched erratically.
“It’s not so much what he said, dude, as what he sent.”
Sean spat out an expletive. “Just tell me.”
“He sent you a finger, Brody. Katie Duncan’s severed finger.”
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.”