Carol Ericson - The Wharf

She licked her lips. Yeah, he probably likes the way that cop’s backside looks in uniform.

He kept his hand on her back and the package tucked under his other arm as he guided her toward the elevator. “I think we can skip the stairs this time.”

As the doors closed, she stepped away from his warmth and wedged her shoulder against the cold mirror inside the car. “This has been quite a day—full of shocks and surprises.”

She counted among those shocks and surprises her immediate attraction to Ryan Brody. The guy had it all in the looks department, including a killer bod, but she’d known that before their face-to-face meeting. She’d seen pictures of him and had even had her P.I. do a little surveillance on him in Crestview.

Brandy, the female P.I. she used, had gone a little overboard with some of the private pictures she’d gotten of Ryan with her long lens.

When Kacie had shuffled through the photos, including quite a few shirtless ones and even a grainy picture of Ryan coming out of his shower, she’d accused Brandy of forming an obsession over her subject.

Brandy, a lesbian in a committed relationship, had just winked.

Kacie’s physical attraction to Ryan made up only part of the equation. The guy had rescued her from a scorching sauna. What girl wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by that?

And then there was the way he had looked at her.

She glanced down at the body that for years had compelled her to sip diet sodas and munch raw veggies, while her two sisters and her mom could seemingly eat whatever they wanted and still maintain their svelte figures.

Ryan had eyed her as if he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and throw her down on the nearest bed or bend her over the nearest kitchen counter or take her against the wall—any wall.

She pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the mirrored elevator.

“Are you going to faint? Because I can carry you back to your room—piece of cake.” He snapped his fingers.

The elevator doors whisked open and she stepped into the hallway, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll save you the strain on your back.”

His eyebrows jumped to his hairline and he cocked his head. “You’re as light as a feather.”

Great. How many weaknesses and insecurities could she reveal to him in the course of one night?

She invited him into her room and immediately abandoned the idea of the glass of wine. After the accusations against, and subsequent suicide of, his father, Ryan’s mother had turned to drugs and alcohol. Kacie didn’t want Ryan thinking she was a lush on top of all the other flaws she’d put on display that night.

Crouching in front of the little fridge, she asked, “Water? Something else?”

“If you’re still having that wine, I’ll have a beer—and I’ll pay you back.”

“I decided against the wine. Do you still want the beer? It’s on the house.”

“I still want the beer, and I’ll still pay you for it.”

She wrapped her fingers around a chilled bottle and held it up. “Is this okay?”

“That’ll do.” He reached over and took it from her and then twisted off the cap. “Now, tell me about that doll.”

She snapped the lid on a diet soda and perched on the edge of the bed. “Like I told you before, the little Walker girl had the same doll. A strand of Walker’s hair was found on the doll, and it was stuck on top of the blood smears. Walker’s defense team and the prosecution went back and forth on this point. Walker’s attorneys claimed that it wouldn’t be unusual for a piece of their client’s hair to be on his daughter’s doll, and the prosecution argued that it got there during the murder.”

“It was a significant piece of evidence.”

“Yes.”

“So, who sent you the doll and why?”

She pleated the bedspread with her fingers. “I think Walker sent it to me as a warning.”

As Ryan sat next to her on the bed, she proceeded to tell him about her meeting with the ex-con and Walker’s threats against her.

When she finished, he whistled between his teeth. “You’re telling me earlier tonight you met with some ex-con who said he had info that Walker was after you?”

“Yep.” She took a long pull from her can of soda, the bubbles tickling her nose.

“Damn, you live dangerously, woman.”

“That’s what I do. Do you think it was any picnic going to interview Walker at Walla Walla on visiting day?”

His gaze left her face and made a detour to her body before returning. “Umm, no. No picnic at all—for you.”

It was a good thing her temperature was still slightly elevated because her cheeks warmed again at his taking inventory of her. She pursed her lips. Did he think she’d sashayed into the prison visiting room in a bikini?

“Did you catch this parolee’s name?”

“No, but his initials are DB. That’s how he signed his texts, anyway.” She formed her fingers into a gun and pointed it at him. “That reminds me. He said he was in for murdering his sister. I was going to try to look him up.”

“I can help you with that.” He pushed off the bed and sauntered over to her laptop on the desk. “I can search for him on the law-enforcement database.”

“That would be awesome. I was just going to try to search for fratricides in Washington that occurred about twenty years ago.” She flipped up her laptop and turned it toward him.

“Why twenty years ago?”

“From what I could tell, the guy didn’t look any older than fifty, so I figured maybe he served twenty or twenty-five years before his parole.”

Ryan entered a website address and typed in a username and password at the log-in screen. “System’s down. We’ll check again tomorrow. I think you need to get to bed anyway.”

Alone. Get to bed alone.

“I’m much better, thanks, but I’d appreciate it if you could stash that doll in your room.” She drew up next to him, bumping his shoulder, and logged off the computer.

“No problem. I’ll stuff her in my closet just so no one thinks I’m sleeping with dolls.”

She jerked her head up and searched his face for a sign of the double entendre, but his clear green eyes, crinkling at the corners, showed only humor. All this talk of beds and sleeping had fired up her imagination again.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want that getting around your department.” She backed away from him and swept his beer from the credenza. “Do you want to take this with you?”

“No, you can toss it.” He grabbed the package with the doll wrapped inside and tucked it under his arm. “Do you want me to send this to the lab at the SFPD? Even though my brother’s still on leave, I have connections there.”

“I’ll think about it, thanks.”

He saluted and grasped the handle of the door, pulling it open. “Good night. We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, and now we have an advantage because we’ve already met. We can get right down to business.”

“Yeah...business.”

He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed, and Kacie let out a long breath.

That man had a way of making her feel like a siren or a femme fatale.

She fell across the bed, dangling her legs off the side. It didn’t matter how Ryan Brody made her feel. She still had a job to do, and that meant proving his father’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

* * *

KACIE PICKED UP the receiver of the ringing phone once and dropped it back in its cradle, further burrowing into the pillows. She could sleep another few hours, but she’d been looking forward to this day for a few years. Never mind that Ryan had sort of spoiled the occasion by being even better looking in person than in his pictures and by saving her life and then saving her sanity by taking that doll away. Never mind all that.