Michael scurried from the back, balancing a lumpy, brown paper−wrapped package on his outstretched palms. He presented it to Kacie, her name scribbled in black felt pen across the outside. “Here you go, Ms. Manning. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.” She took the package from his hands and spun around. “I’m going to open this now.”
She crossed the lobby and sank to the cushions of a love seat facing the door.
Ryan sat across from her and whipped out his knife. “Do you need something for the twine?”
“Yes, please.” She held the package out to him, and he sliced the blade through the twine wrapped around the brown paper. It covered something soft and shapeless.
Placing the package in her lap, Kacie began unwrapping it. When she folded back the last piece of paper, she gasped and jerked back.
He lunged out of his chair, falling on his knees in front of her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Holding the object with the paper, she turned it toward him. A rag doll with blond braids smiled at him with her stitched-on mouth.
His pulse slowed down. “A doll? Are you a collector?”
She shook the toy at him, and the braids flopped back and forth. “This isn’t just some random doll.”
His gaze tracked from the black button eyes of the doll to Kacie’s own round eyes taking up half her face. “Obviously. What is it?”
“Daniel Walker’s daughter was clutching this doll when he murdered her.”
Chapter Three
The doll grinned at her with a mouth that resembled a slash of blood, calling up images of the original doll at the Walker murder scene. Kacie pressed two shaky fingers to the red yarn on the rag doll’s face just to make sure it wasn’t blood.
“Kacie, what does this mean?”
She raised her head, her eyes locking onto Ryan’s as he put a steadying hand on her bouncing knee. The gesture had an immediate effect on her and she took a deep breath. She didn’t have to face this alone right now. “Zoe Walker had a doll just like this one. When they found her body, she had one arm wrapped around her doll—this doll.”
“I remember the doll from your book. This one’s not yours, is it?” He flicked the paper with his fingers.
“No. This is the first time I’ve seen a doll like this since I saw the original. Someone sent this to me. That homeless guy didn’t find a package outside the hotel. Someone probably paid him to deliver it to this hotel.”
As a shiver rolled through her body, she pushed the doll from her lap, where it landed on the carpet still cradled in the brown paper.
“Wait.” Ryan picked up two corners of the wrapping. “This might contain some evidence—fingerprints, hair, clothing fibers.”
She shifted away from the doll as he placed the package next to her on the cushion and carefully folded the paper around the toy.
“Do you want to tell me why someone would want to send this particular doll to you?” He sat back on his heels as if he had all night to wait for an explanation.
She had no intention of making him wait that long. Despite her revulsion toward all things Brody, she couldn’t deny the trust this man fostered in her bones.
He’d saved her from the sauna. His capable hands, square jaw and broad shoulders signaled stability and security. His green eyes reflected sincerity—when they weren’t darkening to something more like lust, which happened anytime they wandered over her body.
The fears of the night, beginning with the fratricidal ex-con, flooded her senses, and her pulse rate galloped a mile a minute. She filled her lungs with a deep breath from her nose and expelled it through parted lips to ward off the rising panic and rushing adrenaline.
“Kacie, are you okay?” Ryan squeezed her knee.
“Fighting off an anxiety attack.” She pointed to the ceiling. “I’ll tell you all about this doll and who sent it from the comfort of my own room while holding a glass of wine in one hand.”
“You got it.” He sprang to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll help you up. One of my officers suffers from panic attacks, and she always gets a little dizzy.”
She gripped his warm hand and struggled to her feet. “You have a cop working for you who has panic attacks?”
“Shh.” He held his finger to his lips. “That’s top secret.”
“But you’re her boss.”
“That’s right. She’s a good cop. She told me about the attacks and it doesn’t need to go any further—not that I think you’ll go running to the Crestview City Council to report us.”
Leaning against him, she tilted her head the other way to survey his face. “That’s decent of you.”
“I have totally selfish reasons. Like I said, she’s a good cop and she makes the department and me look good.”
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. “No
w, 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.
It was game time.
An hour later she put the finishing touches on her makeup, dabbing the excess shine from her lips. She’d dressed in one of her prison outfits—a slim skirt that hit below the knee with a matching jacket—demure, plain, nothing to draw the unwelcome attention of the convicts at Walla Walla or Ryan Brody. He’d already seen her in next to nothing, but that was the night before. This was a whole new day.
She slipped her feet into a pair of low-heeled shoes and hitched her laptop case over one shoulder and her purse over the other. She even had the restaurant picked out for lunch, unless Ryan wanted to go somewhere else. She’d let him choose.
She always let them think they had the upper hand. It had worked with Daniel Walker up until the moment her book came out and he’d realized he’d been duped.
And apparently her trickery still burned a hole in his gut.
She made it to the hotel lobby fifteen minutes early and perched on the edge of the same love seat where she’d unwrapped that doll the night before.
She hunched her shoulders against the chill rippling up her back. What kind of man would send the same kind of doll his daughter had been hugging the moment he ended her life, as a warning? A sick one. But then, she’d only come to realize that about Walker later.
Like many others, she’d been swayed by Walker’s good-looking, grief-stricken face...until she met the man.
She glanced up when the elevators across the lobby dinged open. Ryan strode through the doors and his head jerked in her direction like a heat-seeking missile.
She’d been waiting just five minutes, so he liked being early to meetings, too.
She still had the advantage of watching him approach. If everything that had happened the night before hadn’t transpired, what would her first impressions of this man be?
Tall, good-looking, built, confident, maybe a little cocky. She sucked in her lower lip. This wasn’t working. She couldn’t forget the night before—his concern, his consideration, his blatant attraction to her.
“You’re early.” He offered a handshake. “I’m Ryan Brody, Ms. Manning. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She gripped his hand. “Are you trying to press the reset button? It won’t work. I just tried it.”
He squeezed her hand and wouldn’t let go, as a smile spread across his face. “You’re right. It doesn’t work. I already know way too much about you.”
At least he had the decency to keep his eyes on her face this time, but it didn’t matter. Parts of her body tingled that didn’t have any business tingling under her proper skirt and blouse.
He finally dropped her hand, and she smoothed her palms across the front of her linen skirt. “I don’t know nearly enough about you, so I propose we get started. I made a reservation at Mezza Luna in North Beach, unless you have a preference for something else.”
He spread his arms, and the cotton of his T-shirt tightened across his chest. “I’m a little underdressed. I thought since we were old friends, we’d be going more casual.”
“You look fine.” And fine had a whole other meaning for the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and tight backside.
“I can run up and throw on a sports coat, even though the summer weather is finally starting to peek through the fog.”
“Mezza Luna isn’t that f
ormal, but it’s a good place to conduct business. I like to feel like I’m dressing for work because this is my job.”
“If you’re sure they won’t kick me out.”
“I’m sure.” She pointed to the front doors of the hotel. “I called ahead for a taxi. It should be here in about five minutes.”
“I’m impressed you’re so organized after the night you had.”
She crossed her arms across her waist. “Speaking of which, where’s the doll?”
“Stashed in the closet. Are you sure you don’t want me to send it to the SFPD lab for analysis?”
“It’s not against the law to send someone a doll, is it?”
“No, but if we can link it to Walker...”
“Oh, I know it’s Walker. The ex-con told me Walker wanted to make my life a living hell, and the doll is his first shot.”
“He’s not going to have a second.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the taxi, which had just pulled up.
Somehow she believed it when he said it.
He opened the door of the taxi for her and she slid across the seat, giving the restaurant’s address to the driver.
It didn’t take him long to get there, speeding through the streets, dodging cable cars and buses and maneuvering around pedestrians. The taxi squealed to a stop in front of the restaurant, and Kacie insisted on paying.
“Tax write-off for me.”
Ryan took a detour to the men’s room, leaving Kacie to confront the unfriendly hostess, who acted as if she were guarding the gates of Fort Knox.
Kacie dug in her heels. “Our reservation is for 12:45, and I requested a specific table. I don’t think I should have to wait for that table.”
The hostess pursed her lips and tapped her pencil on her reservation book. “We have a very important person coming later, and he always likes that table.”
“Is there a problem with our reservation?” Ryan raised his brows at the hostess, his mouth turning up at one corner.
The hostess brightened up, flashing a set of white teeth and pulling back her angular shoulders. “Not at all, sir. I’ll seat you immediately.”
Her slim hips swaying in front of them, she led them to their table.
The Wharf Page 3