Carol Ericson - Brody Law - The Bridge / The District / The Wharf / The Hill

“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.