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

Sean smacked his hand against the doorjamb. “This isn’t a joke, John. I think Jacoby might be our killer.”

Both men stared at him, but they weren’t laughing.

“That’s crazy, Sean.”

“Brody, unless you have some hard evidence, you’d better put a cork in it.”

“Here.” Sean drilled his fist into his gut. “I feel it here.”

“You’re a good enough detective to know that’s not good enough.” Healy had sat back down in dismissal.

“Fingers, the guy loves his fingerprints.” Curtis scratched the stubble on his chin. “What do you need, Sean?”

Healy glared at them from beneath his eyebrows. “You two can take this outside my office.”

When the door shut behind them, Curtis turned to Sean. “What do you need me to do?”

“Look at his schedule, John. See where he’s been at the time of the murders. Review that video for me. One of the guys walking in that building looks like Jacoby.” He grabbed his shoulders. “Did he ask to watch over Elise?”

Curtis squeezed his eyes closed. “Sort of. Let’s just say he was eager to take over the job when I got called away.”

“Damn. Where’d they go? What kind of car does he have?”

“We can look up his car here. He told me he was taking her to that twenty-four-hour coffee shop near the park.”

“Thanks for your help, John. I know you can get in trouble for this if it’s all in my head.”

“I’ll bet on you every time, Brody.”

Sean yelled over his shoulder as he took off toward the elevators, “Keep me posted.”

When he got to his car, he punched in Elise’s phone number again. This time when he got her voice mail, he left her a message. “Elise, where are you? Call me as soon as you get this message and don’t trust Jacoby. If you’re with him, make some excuse to get away and then—get away. Run away from him as fast as you can.”

He cranked on his engine and swung out of the parking garage. His phone buzzed in the cup holder, where he’d tossed it, signaling a message, and he grabbed it. He blew out a breath when he saw Elise’s name on the display.

He balanced the phone on the steering wheel to click on the message. Then he slammed on his brakes, sending his car into a fishtail as he read the message: Elise is busy. Thirty-seven plus forty-nine plus 122 plus twenty-eight equal 187.

The coordinates for the Golden Gate Bridge.

* * *

ELISE COUGHED AND gagged as Jacoby dragged her from the trunk of his car—a different car than the one he’d had at their first meeting.

He shoved her in front of him, prodding her back with the barrel of his .45. “No running away this time, Elise. Guns are not my weapon of choice—too much evidence in the form of ballistics and blood spatter. You see, I’m just as good a detective as Brody.”

She licked her dry lips. “Where’s your phony English accent?”

“The same place as my phony cast, beat-up car and fake beard.” He nestled close to her side and she gagged on his cologne. “You have to admit that was a pretty good disguise. Nothing even registered for you when I came to your house not twelve hours later. Of course, I didn’t think it would since you wouldn’t expect a homicide field tech to be a killer, would you?”

“Something about you rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say. Keep walking.”

“Where are we going?” But she didn’t have to ask. Even though he’d parked his car in the gravel parking lot on the other side of the tourist center, the Golden Gate Bridge soared above them, just peeking from the early morning fog that swirled around it.

He clicked his tongue. “Just trying to make small talk, Elise? You know where we’re going.”

“W-we can’t go onto the bridge. It’s closed to pedestrians at this time of night.”

“It’s actually morning, but who’s counting?” Smiling, he showed her a black, square device in his hand. “I’m sure I mentioned that I’m a cyclist, and we get special privileges for the bridge.”

Elise shivered but plodded on ahead of Jacoby. Would he force her to jump? He’d have to shoot her first. She’d never jump off that bridge. Maybe he just planned to slice her up as he did the others. As he did Courtney.

She hugged herself. She should’ve never gone with Jacoby when John had to leave. She could’ve just stayed at the crime scene or waited with security at the building until Sean came back for her.

“Sean’s going to know it’s you. Why else would you take off with me?”

“Well—” his feet crunched on the gravel behind her “—I thought of that and figured I could just tell him I took you back to his place and had to leave myself. I’d be beating myself up about leaving you alone, but you’d still be dead.”

“He’ll never believe you. You’re leaving too many clues, too much evidence.”

“Ah, evidence. I’m quite good at covering up, but I have other plans for Detective Sean Brody.”

Elise’s heart jumped. “You’re not going to hurt him?”

“What is it about all that dark brooding masculinity that drives women wild? I believe you’d die for him. Would you, Elise? Would you die for him?”

“Shut up.”

“You must get that level of maturity from your kindergartners, like that little Eli.”

She whipped around on him. “What do you know about Eli?”

“Enough.” He shoved her and she tripped. “Now get moving.”

Her teeth began to chatter as the chill seeped into her bones. Just like that other night. Would she wind up in the bay again?

He clicked his remote control device, which unlocked the security gate to the pedestrian walkway. He pushed it open and left it ajar.

“Won’t the cyclists be suspicious about an open gate?”

“Happens more than you think. Besides, I’m expecting company.”

Again, her heart lurched in her chest just as her feet hit the pavement of the walkway. Would any cyclists be crossing at this time of morning? It had to be getting close to three o’clock. The walkway opened at five to pedestrians.

But something told her they wouldn’t be here at five.

“Stop.”

She slowed her steps and grabbed a lamppost. “What are we doing?”

“Waiting. Have you ever wondered how it would feel to jump, Elise? Four seconds. They say it takes four seconds to fall before you hit the water. That’s a long time to change your mind.”

“People must be desperate, lonely.”

“Or guilty.” His gun hand wavered. “I get lonely sometimes. Does it fascinate you, Elise? This bridge? It fascinates me. Always has, and I grew up here.”

“It’s beautiful. Maybe that’s why they choose to have their last moments here.”

He snorted. “You know nothing of depression or desperation. The last thing on your mind is beauty.”

“Why don’t you just turn yourself in, Dan?”

“You remember my name? Seems like you only had eyes for Brody.”

“Of course I remember your name, Dan. C-Courtney liked you, too. She told me about her new client. She liked you.”

“Courtney is beautiful.”

“She would’ve helped you, Dan.”

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