Carol Ericson - Brody Law

“Absolutely. Do you have your car?”

“I do. Are you home now? I’ll drive over.”

“I’m not home. I’m shopping, and I was going to grab some lunch. Why don’t you meet me for lunch?”

“I can do that. Where?”

“I’m at Union Square. How about Chinatown?”

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to find parking there, but I’ll give it a try. Han Ting’s?”

“I’ll meet you there at around one o’clock. Is that enough time for you?”

Elise agreed to the time and ended the call. She held the phone out to the woman. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Any progress down there?” Elise stood on her tiptoes, but the scene looked much the same—people searching the ground, heads together conferring, and still the white sheet billowed in the wind.

“No. I’m going to continue my walk over the bridge. I suppose we’ll be reading about this one in the newspaper.”

“I hope so.”

The woman’s brow furrowed and Elise felt her cheeks warming. “I...I mean, I hope the cops keep the public informed about crime. Do they ever underreport this kind of stuff? You know, shove it under the carpet to give people a false sense of security and to keep the tourists coming?”

“I suppose.” The woman cocked her head. “I read about another murder last month, a young woman. I hope we don’t have some serial killer on the loose.”

Elise didn’t want to dash the stranger’s hopes, so she sealed her lips. “I hope not. Anyway, thanks for the phone. Enjoy your walk.”

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her sweater and watched the woman cross the parking lot and head toward the bridge’s pedestrian walkway.

Elise had ventured across the bridge a few times since moving to the city. Round-trip was a good three-mile walk, and while she could use the exercise to clear her head, she had a lunch date with Courtney—not that she was looking forward to it.

She dreaded revealing the rest of last night’s details to Courtney, except for meeting Detective Brody. She wanted her friend’s take on the tall, muscular cop and his protective attitude toward her. Was his behavior normal for a homicide detective questioning a witness?

Normal or not, Elise had felt something click between them, or maybe that was just her desperately reaching out for a knight in shining armor. After Ty, she’d begun doubting the existence of those knights.

She dug in her purse for her keys, and then someone touched her shoulder. She spun around, dropping the keys and hugging her purse to her chest.

Sergeant Curtis faced her, his eyes narrowed and his arms across his barrel chest. “What are you doing here, Ms. Duran?”

Her gaze skittered over his shoulder to Detective Brody still clomping around the beach. “I just had to see for myself. That’s not against the law, is it? All these other people are here.”

“Of course not.” He hunched his shoulders until his short neck disappeared completely. “But you’re not like all these other people, are you?”

“I’m a curious looky-loo, just like them.”

“Don’t start doing your own investigating, Ms. Duran.” He shook his stubby finger in her face. “Leave it to us. We’ll tell you what you need to know.”

Bending over, she swiped her keys up from the ground, hoping for a little composure. Sergeant Curtis’s paternalistic tone caused a spiral of anger to shoot through her body. Why did men always think they knew what was best for her?

“Maybe I don’t want to wait for information. That woman was on my phone. I have a right and a need to know what happened to her.”

He took a step back and blinked. “Sorry. Just don’t want you putting yourself in any danger.”

“I get it.” She waved him off and strode to her car, jabbing her thumb on the remote. He’d probably go and tell Detective Brody now.

And what if he did? She didn’t owe Detective Brody anything, either.

As she rounded her car, a white square on her windshield caught her attention. She rolled her eyes. Perfect—a parking ticket.

She snatched the object from beneath her wiper, her eyebrows colliding over her nose. This was no ticket envelope. She unfolded the slip of paper and scanned the words.

The blood thundered in her ears as she crushed the paper in her fist, her gaze shifting wildly around the parking lot. Her dry mouth made forming words almost impossible.

She swallowed. She licked her lips. She tried again. She screamed.

“He’s here. The killer’s here.”

Chapter Six

The woman’s scream pierced through the air. The sound tore at Sean’s insides. He jerked his head up and scanned the parking lot. A few of the vultures who had been circling the crime scene shifted their attention to a lone woman standing beside a car, waving her arms.

Standing beside a blue hybrid.

A long blond ponytail whipping across her face.

What the hell was Elise Duran doing here, and why the hell was she screaming?

The adrenaline pumped through his body, and his legs responded. He shot up the incline to the parking lot and sprinted across the asphalt.

Curtis had beaten him to it, but it didn’t look as if he was having any luck getting a coherent response from Elise, still waving her arms around and talking gibberish.

“Elise! What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

She stumbled toward him, holding out a clenched fist, her face white. “He’s here. He’s here. The killer.”

Adrenaline crashed through his body again before the first wave had even subsided, and he grabbed Elise’s arms. “Where? Where is he?”

“Here.” Her trembling fist prodded his chest. “He left this.”

He had to practically pry open her frozen fingers to get to the crumpled piece of paper she’d balled up in her clenched hand. He smoothed it out against the back of his hand and cursed.

Curtis hunched forward. “What is it, Brody? What’s it say?”

“It says, ‘Did you come to see my handiwork?’”

Curtis gurgled, his hand hovering over his weapon. “The SOB is here?”

“How long have you been away from your car, Elise? How much time did he have?”

Her head cranked back and forth. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been here for about twenty minutes. I didn’t notice anyone near my car. He’s here. He was here.”

“Maybe someone saw him.” Sean shielded his eyes and tipped his head back to look at the lampposts. “Are there cameras on this part of the parking lot?”

“Nope. It’s like our guy knows this area. No cameras where he dumped the body, either.” Sergeant Curtis held out his hand for the note, and Sean extended it between two fingers even though he wanted to rip it to pieces.

Why had Elise come here anyway? He’d been worrying about her all the way to the crime scene, and she’d been right behind him.

“Where’s Officer Jackson?”

“He’s back at the crime scene, extending the yellow tape. Why?”

“I had him combing through the crowd earlier, asking questions, on the lookout for something just like this.”

Elise’s eyes popped open. “Really? You suspected the killer might be here?”

“A lot of times they stick around to prolong the thrill.”

“That’s taking a risk.” She hugged herself and hunched farther into the big sweater she’d wrapped around her body.

“Our boy likes taking risks, doesn’t he? He used your key to enter your house, sent a picture to your phone.”

Her face crumpled. “Sent me her picture. Who is she, anyway?”

“We don’t know yet.” But the killer had sliced off her finger as a keepsake—something Elise didn’t need to know.

Curtis held up the note. “Do you want me to put this in an evidence bag and track down Jackson to see if he saw anyone suspicious?”