The Wharf

by Carol Ericson

  She froze. Had she heard a cough?

  “DB?” She reached the building and trailed her hand along the damp metal, stopping at the corner.

  “I-it’s Kacie.”

  A soft sigh floated from around the corner of the building. Was he playing some kind of game with her?

  “Are you there?” If Bannister was lurking around the corner in a suspicious manner, Ryan would notice that. Wouldn’t he?

  She held her breath and gripped the edge of the building. She leaned forward, turning her head to the side. A man sat on a bench facing the water, a hat perched on his head, one arm resting across the back of the bench.

  “DB, it’s Kacie.” She crept forward, the soft soles of her shoes a whisper on the pavement.

  Her jaw ached with tension, and her little sips of air had her lungs burning. She couldn’t see his other hand, which could’ve been resting in his lap. Holding a weapon?

  Her first swallow became a lump in her throat and she tried again. She approached DB from the back and laid a hand on his denim-clad shoulder.

  Her fingertips met moisture. She snatched her hand back and peered at her fingers in the dim yellow light spilling from a bulb on the outside of the building.

  The smell of blood invaded her nostrils—heavy, metallic. Rubbing her sticky fingers together, she circled the bench and dropped to her knees in front of DB.

  Blood soaked the bandana around his neck as it gurgled from a gash across his throat.

  As Kacie screamed “sauna,” one thought pummeled her brain.

  Duke Bannister’s sister had finally gotten her justice.

  Chapter Five

  Ryan jumped from behind the barrels on the wharf and sprinted toward Kacie, her howl echoing in the night.

  He pulled his gun from his pocket and charged toward the figure reposing on the bench, ready to do him physical harm if he had one finger on Kacie.

  No need.

  Kacie had fallen onto her backside, her hands spread before her.

  Bannister’s head lolled back, as if he were taking in the night sky, his denim shirtfront and blue bandana loosely tied around his neck soaked with blood. Someone had slit his throat from ear to ear, creating a grisly second smile.

  Ryan dropped to the ground and pulled Kacie away from the dead man. Bannister’s blood smudged her splayed hands, and without their support, she tilted to the side, in danger of falling over.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against his body. “Shh. Don’t worry. I’m right here beside you.”

  She sobbed against his arm. “The blood, the blood.”

  Ryan placed his firearm back in his pocket and exchanged it for a cell phone. He called 911, then hooked his arms beneath Kacie’s to bring her to her feet since she seemed incapable of movement.

  “Hey, what happened, man? Is the lady okay?”

  Ryan glanced over his shoulder to see a transient hunched over his shopping cart. “She’s okay, but this guy is dead. Did you see anything? See anyone hanging around here?”

  “Nope.” The guy took off faster than he’d probably ever moved since he’d been on the streets.

  Carrying Kacie toward a chain-link fence across from the bench, he whispered soothing words against her soft earlobe. “It’s okay. I have you.”

  Her eyes grew wide and she clutched his T-shirt with both hands, forgetting they were stained with Bannister’s blood. “What if he’s still here? What if Walker is still here?”

  He wrapped his arms around her trembling body and stroked her hair. “Walker’s not here. He’s locked up, remember? Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  She sniffled and burrowed against his chest.

  His arms tightened around her trembling frame, and she molded against his body, melting into him. He could stand there all night holding her if it weren’t for the dead guy they had to deal with.

  Sirens swooped down to the wharf, bringing out the night owls, who began to form clusters around the bench. The SFPD soon had the situation in hand, taping off the area and keeping the looky-loos at a distance.

  Sergeant Curtis approached them first. “You called this in, Brody?”

  Curtis worked homicide with his brother. Ryan tucked Kacie against his side and extended his hand. “Good to see you, Sergeant. I missed you when I was at the department earlier today. This is Kacie Manning. She had a meeting with the guy, and I tagged along. We believe he’s an ex-con named Duke Bannister.”

  “Kacie Manning.” Curtis snapped his fingers. “You wrote that book on Daniel Walker—fascinating read.”

  Kacie peeled herself from Ryan’s side and drew back her shoulders. “That’s right. This man did time with Walker. He had some information for me, and that’s why I was meeting him.”

  “Did either of you see anything out here?” Curtis swirled his finger in the air.

  “No. I didn’t realize Bannister was dead until I approached him from behind and touched his shoulder.” She held out her hands. “I got his blood on my hands.”

  “We’ll want to take a swab of that, Ms. Manning, and then you can clean up.” He snapped his fingers for a tech.

  “A transient came by soon after we discovered the body, but he claimed he hadn’t seen anyone and then took off in a hurry. I, uh—” Ryan gestured toward Kacie “—had my hands full and couldn’t detain him.”

  “No problem. A lot of these guys on the wharf are regulars. We’ll have our guys put the word out. We’ll offer an exchange of money for info. If someone saw something, the smell of cold hard cash usually brings them out of the woodwork. Do you think the information he had could’ve led to his murder, Ms. Manning?”

  Kacie’s eyes darted to Ryan’s face and then back to Curtis’s. “I’d met with Bannister before. He told me at that time Walker had it in for me.”

  Curtis whistled. “Do you think this is Walker’s long hand from prison?”

  “It could be.”

  Ryan joined in and told Curtis about the doll and how he’d dropped it off earlier today at the station. “Your lab guys have it now.”

  “We’ll contact the warden at Walla Walla. He can have a little talk with Walker or more closely monitor his communications or do whatever he thinks necessary.” Curtis leveled a finger at Ryan. “In the meantime, stay close to this guy. If you got a Brody on your side, you ain’t doing half-bad.”

  After they answered a few more questions, a tech took a sample of blood from Kacie’s hand, handed her a moist towelette and they were free to go.

  Their shoulders bumped a few times on the walk back to the hotel. When the police showed up, Kacie seemed to have recovered, morphing back into the hard-nosed reporter.

  And that was a good thing, but one part of him liked the way she clung to him, needed him. He wanted to be there for her.

  She peppered him with questions and suggested likely scenarios all the way back to the hotel.

  When the doors of the elevator slid open on the fourth floor, she held up her hand. “I’m okay, really.”

  “I know that, but what kind of cop would I be if I didn’t see you safely to your room after the night you just had?”

  She blinked. “I guess that sense of duty never goes away, does it? Even when you’re off the clock.”

  “Funny thing about cops.” He stepped out of the elevator and took her elbow. “We’re never off the clock.”

  “I saw that with a lot of the men and women I interviewed for the book on Daniel Walker.”

  She’d allowed him to touch her, but that soft, yielding woman in his arms at the wharf had turned rigid and cold. If she wanted to keep this strictly business, he could comply.

  When they reached her door, he dropped his hand. “Why do you think Walker had Bannister killed? Maybe he found out that Bannister already told you about his plan for revenge, so he killed him for punishment.”

  Folding her arms, she leaned against her door. “Or maybe Bannister was about to give me more details about Walker’s scheme, a sch
eme he didn’t want revealed, something Walker may have told him in prison.”

  “It’s in the warden’s hands now.”

  She glanced down at her own palms, still stained with Bannister’s blood despite the towelette. “My hands.” Her gaze shifted to his shirt. “And your shirt. I’m so sorry. I ruined your shirt.”

  “This old thing?” He plucked the black T-shirt away from his chest. “I can toss it. It’s seen better days.”

  And now it could die happy after having this woman pressed against it for five whole minutes.

  “At least it’s not soaked through. Is it?” She tapped a finger against the stiff cloth of his shirt.

  “I don’t think so.” He pinched the hem of his shirt and yanked it up, exposing his stomach and chest. Dropping his chin to his chest, he said, “Nope. It didn’t go through.”

  When he looked up, she dragged her gaze from his bare skin. A rosy color stained her cheeks and she expelled a quick breath through parted lips.

  Good to see his charms held some fascination for her.

  The shutters dropped over her eyes again and she made a turn for the door. “I’m going to scrub my hands with soap and water and get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  He let his T-shirt fall. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast at nine.”

  * * *

  IT TOOK HER three tries to unlock her door with Ryan still breathing down her neck, his muscles covered only by that thin black T-shirt.

  When the green lights finally signaled success, she gave him a halfhearted wave and scurried inside the room, letting the door shut heavily behind her.

  Why had she fallen into his arms so easily? Did she have a choice? She’d just discovered a dead man awash in his own blood, for heaven’s sake! She would’ve fallen into the arms of that homeless guy if he’d been handy. Ryan had just been handy.

  But did handy have to feel so good?

  She cranked on the water in the shower and stepped in. She cupped the little bar of soap in her hands as she held them beneath the warm stream. She lathered up her hands again and again, watching pink water swirl down the drain. The red from the scrubbing soon replaced the red from the blood. She toweled dry and dropped the towel to the bathroom floor.

  Tomorrow she’d face the day with a fresh outlook. The warden at Walla Walla would handle Daniel Walker and get him off her back. Then she’d be free to pursue the Brody story.

  Back on solid footing, she wouldn’t need to run to the all-too-welcoming arms of Ryan every two seconds. Then she could get started on what she had come here to do—prove Joseph Brody’s guilt as the Phone Book Killer beyond a reasonable doubt.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, she didn’t even try to race Ryan downstairs. Let him have that petty victory. But as luck would have it, she beat him anyway. She took a table on the rim of the hotel restaurant and positioned her chair to face the lobby.

  She generally liked to be waiting for her subject because she felt it gave her the upper hand, an opportunity to study her specimen before he knew he was being observed. In Ryan’s case, it had the opposite effect.

  As soon as he appeared in the lobby, her pulse quickened.

  He exchanged a few words with the hotel clerk at the desk that had the clerk smiling from ear to ear. The hostess at the restaurant practically tripped over herself waving him to the table, and more than a few female heads turned as he threaded his way through the tables.

  When he aimed that smile her way, Kacie experienced that newly familiar feeling of heat surging through her body and tingles spreading through her lady parts.

  “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “Surprisingly well.” To keep busy, she stirred way too much cream in her coffee. “Last night... Well, not that I’m happy someone is dead, but it’s almost a relief to have Walker’s threats out in the open. The warden can deal with him now.”

  He took his place across from her. “I wouldn’t waste any tears on Bannister. The cops found two knives on him—one in his jacket pocket and one in his boot.”

  She choked on her sip of coffee. “He could’ve...”

  “That’s right. He could’ve been planning something for you. Maybe he didn’t have any more information about Walker. Maybe he wanted to get close to you again.”

  “So, in a weird way, I owe Walker a debt of gratitude for getting rid of Duke Bannister.”

  “In a really weird way. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He called the waiter over and ordered a cup of coffee.

  “I’m ready to put all this behind me.” She meant not only Walker and Bannister but also her insane attraction to Ryan Brody. She’d have to suppress that and get down to business.

  “I hope you can. I hope the warden at Walla Walla deals with Walker.” When his coffee arrived, he pointed to the cream next to her saucer. “Any of that left?”

  She shoved it across to him. “We’re going to take our first field trip to the Golden Gate Bridge. Are you okay with that?”

  His spoon stopped short of his coffee and he sucked in a quick breath. “I don’t think we’re going to find any evidence there.”

  “This first part—” she drew a circle on the table with her fingertip “—isn’t about finding evidence. It’s more about setting the mood. This has to be a story as well as just a report on the facts of the case. You know that, right?”

  “I read your book.” He rested his chin on top of his steepled fingers.

  “I hope it’s not going to be too hard on you.” She laced her own fingers in her lap, resisting the ridiculous urge to caress his forearm.

  “It won’t be easy going through it all again, but if it proves my father’s innocence, I’ll walk through fire.”

  He may have to before this was all over because she planned to reveal his father as a killer. Then all this tension between them would blow up into smithereens.

  They finished their breakfast and headed out to the parking structure where Ryan had left his car, a small SUV. He maneuvered through the streets of the city like a pro and pulled into the visitor parking for the bridge.

  Kacie released her seat belt. “Where’d you learn to drive like that? I thought you lived in a little hick town up north?”

  “I drove all around this city as a teenager. I wasn’t always a hick.” He winked at her.

  “Hey, I’m not casting stones. The town I live in is no thriving metropolis.”

  He rested his hands on the steering wheel. “Did you grow up there?”

  “My parents are in Seattle. I grew up there.”

  “And your sisters?”

  “My sisters? How did you know I had sisters?” Her heart drummed a beat in her chest. Had he been checking up on her? How much could he have discovered through his police connections?

  “Yesterday during our interview, you told me you had two older sisters.”

  “Oh yeah. One still lives in Seattle—married, children—and the other lives down in L.A., engaged.” She’d have to watch her tongue around him.

  She scrambled from the car and grabbed a light jacket from the backseat.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he ambled to her side of the car and peered at the blue sky. “Not sure you’re going to need that.”

  “It is a nice day, but it’s always breezy on the bridge.” She draped the jacket over her arm. “Ready?”

  They crossed the parking lot and walked toward the pedestrian entrance. When they reached the walkway, tourists, cyclists and photographers joined them, while cars whizzed past on the road.

  Ryan walked beside her, his head turned toward the bay. Did the view bring him pleasure, like it did most of the other pedestrians, or pain?

  He stopped and grasped the low barrier, hunching his shoulders. “This is it.”

  She drew beside him, drinking in the view of Alcatraz and the city skyline floating between the blue of the bay and the blue of the sky. “This is a beautiful stop, but there are so many great views.�
��

  “No, I mean, this is it.” The wind played with his hair, flattening it against his head as he looked down.

  Then it hit her and her stomach dropped. “This is the exact spot where your father died?”

  “This is where he jumped.”

  This time she did reach out, covering his hand with hers. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have to... You didn’t have to...”

  He cranked his head around and his eyes blazed at her for a second. “You wanted to come here. You wanted to come and see where it all ended. Well, this is it. This is the spot.”

  A muscle twitched in her eye. Was he angry at her for foisting this on him? Ryan seemed like such an easygoing guy, but his hard mouth and harder eyes hinted at depths of rage she hadn’t seen or expected.

  Would this rage bubble over when he found out the truth?

  By then she’d be far away, her lifelong goal reached. She brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “Do you want to leave?”

  His shoulders dropped and he ran a hand through his thick, windblown hair. “No.”

  “His body was never found.”

  “Currents carried him out to sea.”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  “One.” Turning sideways, he leaned on the barrier. “A woman was taking in the early-morning view. She’d noticed a man quite a distance from her. She watched as he climbed over the barrier and disappeared.”

  “She called the police?”

  “She used one of the phones on the bridge to call the coast guard, but his body never turned up.”

  Kacie shivered despite the sun on her back. “Their station is so close I’m surprised they didn’t find him.”

  “It happens. The current was swift that day. The police found my father’s jacket and wallet on the ground and later they located his car in the parking lot—the same lot where we just parked.”

  “Have you or your brothers ever spoken to this witness?”

  He cocked his head and pressed his back against the barrier, spreading his arms along the top like a tourist posing for the camera. “I never have. If they did, they didn’t tell me about it.”

  “I’d be curious to talk to her, if she’s still alive. Do you know?”