THE BRIDGE (3 page)

He’d seen better hiding places, but at least she hadn’t stashed the key beneath the welcome mat.

She puckered her lips and blew on the key before inserting it into the dead bolt. It clicked.

The key scraped when she pulled it out of the lock, and Sean’s stomach knotted with the sound. He cinched her wrist as she reached for the doorknob.

“Wait. Me first.”

Her gaze darted to the door and back to his face. She dipped her chin and stumbled back.

He withdrew his weapon from his shoulder holster and edged open the door. Coiling his muscles, he stepped into Elise’s house.

The rising sun filtered through the slats of her blinds, throwing a vertical pattern across the deep blue carpet on the floor. A low light glowed beneath a whimsical lampshade painted with flowering vines. Colorful children’s books littered a coffee table in the shape of a piece of driftwood.

Sean eased out a slow breath and took another step into the inviting room. “Everything look okay in here?”

She peered around his body, nudging his arm with her head. “Looks fine to me.”

Something scratched at the sliding glass door, and Elise grabbed his biceps, digging her nails into the material of his shirt. She released a noisy sigh along with his arm and pointed to the door. “My mangy friend is looking for a handout.”

A gray-and-white-striped cat pawed at the door again, flicked his tail and walked away.

“How many rooms?”

“This one.” She waved an arm in front of her. “You can see the kitchen, and then there are two bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall. That door leads to the garage.”

“That would be a good place to start.” Sean swung open the door to the garage. A little hybrid crouched in the center of the garage floor and well-ordered shelves surrounded it. A washer and dryer were tucked in a corner. Not many places to hide here. He took a look under the car for the heck of it.

“Let’s have a look in the bedrooms just to be on the safe side.”

“I’m all for safe.”

She led the way down the short hallway, and Sean tried really hard to drag his gaze away from her swaying hips and the dress that seemed to be shrinking by the minute.

The doors to both bedrooms yawned open, and after a cursory look at the rooms and in the closets, Elise assured him all was well.

She traipsed down the hall to the bathroom at the end, calling over her shoulder. “It’s a good thing I have a small house.”

She tripped to a stop at the bathroom door and gasped. “Oh!”

With his heart thudding, Sean took two giant steps to join her. The room tilted and he slammed a hand against the doorjamb to stop the spinning.

Elise hooked a finger through his belt loop. “Wh-what does it mean?”

Sean’s eyes burned as he read the words on the bathroom mirror in red lipstick:
Here we go again, Brody.

“I don’t know what it means.”

Sean ran the back of his hand across his mouth.

Oh, but he did. He knew exactly what it meant.

Chapter Three

Elise’s gaze edged from the lipstick words on her mirror to the cop’s reflection.
Brody
—that was his name. Why had someone scrawled it on her bathroom mirror along with a cryptic message?

She loosened her hold on his belt loop and crept closer to the vanity. Wedging her hands on the tile, she leaned toward the words on the glass.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Oops!” She snatched her hands off the vanity. “Do you think he left fingerprints?”

“Maybe.”

The color had returned to Detective Brody’s face, but his expression remained hard and tight, alert. The tension vibrating from his body wrapped her in its coils, creating an ache in her shoulders.

She coughed. “It’s him, isn’t it? The man who abducted me.”

“He has, or at least had, your purse and your driver’s license. He found your house and used your key to get inside.”

His matter-of-fact words socked her in the gut. She sank to the edge of the tub and folded over to pin her forehead onto her knees.

Detective Brody crouched beside her, curling one warm hand around her bare calf. “You need to get your locks changed and get out of here for now.”

Poor small-town girl lost in the big city.
Everyone back home had predicted she wouldn’t last six months here. She’d doubled that and would continue to prove them wrong.

Hot anger cascaded through her body, and she curled her hands into fists. She jerked her head up and pushed the hair out of her face. Time to take control of this situation.

She hadn’t been Ty’s victim back in Montana, and she didn’t plan to be anyone’s victim here in San Francisco despite what her family feared. It started with answers. It started with Brody.

She planted a finger on Detective Brody’s granitelike chest. “Why is this guy communicating with you? How does he even know you’re on this case?”

He blinked, his spiky lashes and dark eyes momentarily distracting her from her purpose.

Her finger drilled farther into his starched shirt. “I want some straight answers. Is this guy a serial killer? Has he been communicating with you?”

Brody shifted away from the accusatory finger and rose to his feet, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his gray slacks. “The only serial killer we have at work right now in the city is a guy killing transients. You’re hardly his typical victim.”

She ground her teeth together. “I’m nobody’s victim. I got away, remember?”

“I do.” He raised his eyebrows.

She didn’t expect him to understand the vehemence behind her words, and she didn’t care what he thought about it. “So, why is this guy sending you messages via my bathroom mirror? How did he know you’d be here, in my house?”

“A lot of serial killers follow other cases.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and lifted his shoulders. “I’ve been a homicide detective in the city for several years. My name’s been in the papers a few times. He obviously knows who I am and correctly figured I’d be working this case.”

Her gaze slid to his forearm, where the sleeve of his shirt hid the bird tattoo. Then she looked into his dark eyes, shuttered and secretive. Weren’t the criminals supposed to be the ones with the secrets, not the cops?

“And he knew you’d be here?”

“Maybe not, but he assumed you’d tell the cops about his little message.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call this in, get a tech down here to dust for fingerprints.”

His expression and tone told her she’d get nothing more out of him. She smacked her hand against the doorjamb. “And I’m going to get my locks changed.”

“You’re going to stay here, in this house?”

She wedged her hands on her hips. “Where would I go? I’m a kindergarten teacher, not an heiress like London Breck. I can’t afford to camp out in a hotel until you catch this guy...
If
you catch this guy.”

“How about staying with a friend?”

“Indefinitely?” She jerked her thumb at the ceiling. “I have Oscar.”

“Oscar?”

“Oscar Chu, my landlord.” She formed a gun with her fingers and pointed at him. “I also have my .22.”

“You have a gun?”

“It’s in my closet and it’s unloaded, but yeah I have a gun and I know how to use it.” A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, and Elise narrowed her eyes. “You find it funny that I have a handgun? I can assure you it’s all legal.”

“I find it...awesome.” He tilted his phone toward her. “Get someone out here to change your locks then, and I’ll get a tech to dust for fingerprints in case this guy got even more careless than writing a message on a mirror.”

She tiptoed down the hallway and ducked into her office to retrieve her laptop to look up locksmiths in the area.

“After you call the locksmith, why don’t you check around to see if anything is missing? I’ll take a look at your doors and windows.”

She tapped her computer and called out, “My laptop’s still here, and I don’t think you’re going to find any signs of a break-in. It’s pretty apparent he used my key to get in.”

“Look around anyway.”

She pulled open a drawer in her dining nook where she kept a camera and her MP3 player. Both were undisturbed. “I don’t think he was interested in stealing anything, just game playing.”

“Obviously, he used your key. I’m not checking your doors and windows to see how he got in.”

She returned to the bathroom door with the laptop tucked under one arm. “What for then?”

Brody balanced on the edge of her tub and peered at the small frosted window above it. “I’m just making sure he didn’t rig something so he can get back in once you change the locks.”

She shivered and hugged the computer to her chest. “I’m glad someone’s mind works that way.”

“Keep looking. Maybe he left something behind.” He jumped from the tub, surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy.

She settled the laptop on the kitchen table and did a search for locksmiths. She placed a call to one who worked weekends and made emergency calls.

While Brody continued checking the doors and windows, Elise rifled through her drawers and closets. She didn’t find anything amiss, but the thought of that maniac in her house gave her pause every once in a while, and she had to close her eyes to catch her breath.

She had no intention of telling her folks back home about this. She could picture the pinched faces and I-told-you-so’s already. They didn’t need to know. Of course, there’d be no hiding it if she wound up dead.

A figure moved across her window, and she gasped and crossed her hands over her heart. She crept closer and let out a long breath when she saw Brody poking around the plants by the sliding glass door.

She rapped on the glass, and he looked up. He’d tossed his tie over his shoulder and rolled up his shirt sleeves, his tattoo peeking from the cuff.

She wouldn’t mind seeing that sight out her window every morning.

She unlocked the window and shoved up the sash. Pressing her nose to the mesh screen, she called out, “Find anything weird?”

He thrust one arm into the tangle of flowers and withdrew a blue ball of glass. He cradled it in his hands, lifting it as if in offering. “Just this. What is it?”

Her face warmed, but he probably couldn’t see her heightened color through the screen. “It’s just some decoration.”

The woman at the psychic shop in The Haight had told her it would ward off evil. Guess the killer with the fake English accent hadn’t come through the backyard.

Someone knocked on the front door.

“That’s either your guy or my locksmith.”

“Don’t answer it yet. Wait for me.”

She slammed the window shut and rubbed her fingers together to brush away the dust.

Detective Brody stepped through the sliding glass door from the patio and strode to the front of the house. Leaning forward, he placed his eye at the peephole. “That’s my guy.”

He swung open the door. “You’re fast, Jacoby.”

“So are you.” The short, powerfully built man hoisted a black bag off his shoulder. “You haven’t even written your report yet and you’re working the case.”

Detective Brody pointed down her hallway. “The man who abducted Ms. Duran made his way back to her place and left a message on the mirror.” He gestured to Elise. “This is Elise Duran, the vic—the woman who got away.”

His words caused a warm glow in her tummy. A man who listened.

“I’m Dan Jacoby, fingerprint tech extraordinaire.” They shook hands and he squeezed her fingertips as if trying to get a read on her pads. “You’re one brave lady.”

“Nice to meet you, and I did what anyone would do to get away.” She waved a hand behind her. “Do you want to see the mirror first?”

“After you.”

Jacoby followed her so closely, she tugged on the hem of her skirt. She really needed to put on some clothes.

Elise led the two men to her bathroom and pushed the door wide, not that the small space could accommodate all three of them. Side by side, the shoulders of the two men could practically span the room.

Jacoby whistled through his teeth. “You failed to mention he’d left the message for you, Brody.”

“Yeah, one of these megalomaniacs seeking attention. He’s not happy just committing murder. He wants to make sure everyone knows how smart he is.”

“The joys of being a homicide detective. These nut jobs know your names, follow your careers.” Jacoby dropped his bag on the tile floor. “Give me my fingerprints and anonymity.”

While Jacoby unzipped the bag, Brody tugged on her arm. “Let’s give him some room to work, unless you want to watch.”

She backed out of the bathroom. “That’s okay. I’ll wait for my locksmith.”

She didn’t know if it was Jacoby’s muscles or personality, but his presence overpowered the bathroom.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

Again, Brody went to it first and peered through the peephole. He opened the door a crack. “Yeah?”

“Someone called for a locksmith.” The locksmith held out a card between two fingers.

Brody plucked it from his grip and showed it to Elise.

She nodded. “That’s the company I called.”

Brody widened the door, and the locksmith stamped his feet on the mat outside.

“Show me what you need.”

“All locks with a key, changed.” Elise twisted the doorknob. “Starting with this one, as well as the dead bolt. There’s an interior door to the garage, too. Same key.”

“Can you show me some ID?” He eyed Detective Brody. “You’re not the only careful ones around here. We have to look up the title to the house and verify the owner.”

Elise twisted her fingers. “I’m not the owner. The owner lives upstairs and he’s not home.”

The locksmith squinted at a piece of paper in his hands. “Who’s the owner?”

“Oscar Chu.”

“Yep. That’s what I have here.”

“I can give you his cell. He’ll vouch for me.”

Detective Brody stepped between her and the locksmith, whipping out his badge. “I’ll vouch for her. I’m Detective Sean Brody, and Ms. Duran needs her locks changed for security reasons.”

The locksmith scratched his jaw as he eyed the badge. “If you say so.”

Elise pressed her lips together as she led the locksmith to the door leading to the garage. While she felt grateful that Detective Brody had intervened and smoothed the way for her to get her locks changed, his take-charge attitude on her behalf left a sour taste in her mouth. She’d had her fill of it from her father and brothers.

Shaking her head, she rolled back her shoulders. This situation bore little resemblance to the way the male members of her family had tried to control her life. This was a matter of life and death, not marriage and betrayal.

And here she thought she’d gotten over the “all men are scum” stage.

She tapped the garage door. “Just match the dead bolts and door handle locks for the garage and the front door, and give me two keys—three. I’d better give one to Oscar.”

“You got it.” The locksmith dropped to his knees, his toolbox clinking and clanking as he set it on the floor next to him.

Elise wandered back to the bathroom, where Detective Brody was parked against the door jamb. “Anything interesting?”

Jacoby looked up, running a hand over his shaved head. “Nope. Looks like one set of prints, and I’m assuming they’re yours. Do you live alone?”

“Yes.” And that was all she had to say on the subject. She slid a glance at Brody, who was intently watching the tech’s work. She hadn’t brought a date back to her house since moving to San Francisco.

She didn’t trust these smooth-talking city boys much. If she couldn’t read a boy she’d known all her life back home in Montana, what chance did she have figuring out some metrosexual urban dweller?

Since Brody seemed consumed with interest in what Jacoby was doing, Elise took the opportunity to assess the detective—not the metrosexual type at all, although he had the clothes. After a year of hanging out with Courtney, she’d learned to recognize an expensive suit when she saw one. The drape of Brody’s suit screamed custom-tailored, but the fine material and precise cut couldn’t mask the naked power of the man.

He practically hummed with purpose and strength—a man’s man her brothers would call him. If her brothers approved of him, that might be reason enough to steer clear, but Brody didn’t possess any of the cockiness and good old boyness that characterized her brothers and Ty.

Steer clear?
She’d let her imagination get way ahead of her. She didn’t have to steer clear of or move in on Detective Brody. He was a cop investigating a crime—a crime aimed at her. Heck, he could be married for all she knew. A surreptitious inventory of his left hand suggested otherwise.

Jacoby tossed the last of his implements in his bag, and Elise jumped.

Detective Brody made a half turn and cupped her elbow. “Still nervous? Even when the locksmith changes the locks, you don’t have to stay here. You don’t have anything to prove—to me.”

Elise swallowed. Had she been so transparent? “Is the SFPD going to foot the bill for my room at the Fairmont?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then it looks like I’m digging in here.”

“Before I take a look at the doors and windows, press your index finger on the pad and then roll it onto this card.” Jacoby held out a small white ink pad cupped in his palm and a card pinched between the fingers of his other hand. “Just want to have your fingerprints on file to compare with these.”