THE BRIDGE

by Carol Ericson

  “Are you implying Dr. Patrick knew my father was guilty?”

  “No.” Her fingernails dug into his tattoo. “I’m just trying to reason through this with you.”

  He shook his head. “There is no rhyme or reason. Why did Dr. Patrick have a heart attack today of all days, just when I found out about his existence?”

  “Coincidence. Fate, again. It was a heart attack, not murder, not suicide.”

  “The EMTs verified that to you?”

  “Short of doing an autopsy on the sidewalk? Pretty much.”

  “Damn! Minutes too late. Minutes away from getting to the bottom of this puzzle that has plagued me for twenty years.”

  Her hold on his arm turned to a caress. “The puzzle, as you call it, doesn’t define you, Sean. Whatever your father was or did, you’re here now, in this moment.”

  The tension seeped from his shoulders and he rolled them forward and backward. Then he clasped her hands between his.

  She wriggled one free from his tight grip and brushed her knuckles across his tattoo. “And you know it. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re a Phoenix. You’ve risen from the ashes of your past to create your own present.”

  As always, he shivered when she touched his tattoo, as if she were touching his soul. “Let’s get out of here and get something to eat.”

  “That sounds great about now, but I don’t want you to get into any trouble because of me. Does your department have any idea you’re spending so much time with me?”

  Sean clutched the back of his neck to knead his tense muscles. In all the worry about Elise and the drama over Dr. Patrick’s death, he’d almost forgotten the meeting this afternoon. “That’s not going to be a problem.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s not going to be a problem because I’m no longer on the case. It’s happening again, Elise.”

  * * *

  ELISE STEPPED BACK and placed a hand on her car. “Your department took you off the case? Why?”

  “The captain thinks I’m too personally involved.” He held up one finger. “And before you get started, it has nothing to do with you.”

  “It was that reporter’s story, wasn’t it? Dragging up the past.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said before, he has a right to report whatever he wants as long as it’s the truth—and he told the truth. The department overreacted.”

  “Sean, what did you mean when you said it was happening again? They don’t suspect you of anything, do they?”

  “I just meant—” he dug his keys out of his pocket “—they’re punishing me because some killer decided to communicate with me. That’s how it started with my dad, too.”

  “Well, it’s not going to end the same way.”

  He reached forward and tugged a lock of her damp hair. “Why are we standing out here in this fog? Follow me back to my place and I’ll make some dinner. It’s just outside the city, if you don’t mind.”

  “Perfect. I want to get out of the city right now, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble. Let me pick up the food this time.”

  She’d clicked her remote and he opened the car door for her. “I actually have a couple of steaks in the freezer I’ve been meaning to cook for a while.”

  “Then I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  “Stay right behind me and I’ll keep my eye on you, but just in case.” He printed out his address on a piece of paper and slipped it into her hand. He shut her door and smacked the roof of the car.

  Keeping her gaze pinned to the taillights of his car had the same effect on her as watching him in her rearview mirror—a feeling of safety. After Dr. Patrick died in her arms and the ambulance arrived and the police came, she hadn’t felt safe until she’d seen Sean striding across the street, his gait fueled by fury. His fury fueled by fear.

  He cared about her. Whether his concern extended beyond feelings of protectiveness, she didn’t know. Did it matter right now? She needed his strength and he needed hers, too.

  He’d been fighting his demons for far too long by himself. He obviously didn’t want to burden his brothers. He had no one right now to confide in, and she knew how that felt.

  When the expectations of her small-town life began to close around her, she didn’t know where to turn. So she’d gone through the motions, treading the path that had been laid out for her.

  When her maid of honor had dangled the gift of Ty’s infidelity in front of her, she’d snatched it. She knew once she became that runaway bride, there was no going back.

  Maybe Sean needed something to hold on to, something to pull him out of his misery. He must’ve turned a corner when he got that tattoo. Now she’d been put here to help him turn another corner.

  She followed him closely on the bumper-to-bumper freeway until he put his turn signal on and crawled onto an off-ramp. As she rolled to a stop behind him at the red light, she tapped the display of her phone to call Courtney.

  “Hi, Elise. Are you calling because you’re going to be late? Because I’m not even home yet.”

  “I’m going out to dinner, or rather having dinner at a friend’s place.”

  “Turns out I’m going out, too. I’m finally getting together with the guy I met at the Speakeasy.”

  A shiver ran through Elise. Courtney should be more careful. “What do you know about this guy, Courtney?”

  “Uh, he’s an investment banker and he’s hot.”

  Elise grimaced. Her experiences over the past few days had made her more street savvy than she’d wanted to be.

  “Are you at home yet?”

  “No. New client’s keeping me busy. Have fun and be careful.”

  Elise pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to tell Courtney about her latest mishap. “You, too.”

  Ahead of her, Sean’s right-turn signal blinked and he swung into the driveway of a small house in a quiet residential neighborhood. He must relish this escape from the big city.

  He parked in the driveway and she pulled up to the curb.

  Tossing his keys in the air, he said, “Miserable traffic.”

  “This is a nice neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, my little refuge.”

  “You need it.”

  He unlocked his front door and shoved it open for her. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job.”

  “I know you do. You wouldn’t be babysitting me if you didn’t.”

  He tilted his head as he stepped aside, a quizzical look in his dark eyes. “Right.”

  She stepped into the room and inhaled the scent of cleanliness—furniture polish, bleach, disinfectant.

  “It’s a good thing my cleaning lady came today.” He flipped on a lamp by the door, and it illuminated a masculine room, dark and cozy.

  She placed her hands on the back of his couch, smoothing them across the dark brown leather. “Somehow I get the feeling your cleaning lady doesn’t have a lot of work to do.”

  “How much mess can a single guy create?” He spread his arms to encompass the immaculate room.

  “You don’t know my brothers.” She pointed at the kitchen, whose gleaming surfaces were visible even in the darkness. “Do you want me to help with anything?”

  “Sure. I’m going to thaw out the steaks and put a couple of potatoes in microwave. I have some fresh asparagus from the local farmers’ market. You can wash and trim that.”

  She saluted. “Got it.”

  As he covered the steaks on a plate and shoved them into the microwave, Elise ran some cold water over the asparagus spears. “What did they tell you when they dismissed you from the case?”

  His fingers paused over the microwave buttons, and then he stabbed them and punched the power. “Said they didn’t like killers communicating with detectives, that the ki
llers fed off the high and it could encourage them to commit more murders.”

  “You obviously don’t believe that.”

  “When a killer communicates with the detective on the case, it tends to yield more clues. There are more chances that he’ll slip up, reveal some detail.” He grabbed a couple of potatoes from the pantry and slammed the door. “They know that.”

  “So, it’s just you.”

  “Yeah, it’s me. If the killer had chosen anyone else in the department, they’d be all over it.”

  “Do you think he will?” She took a potato from his hands and held it under the running water. “Replace you with another detective?”

  He snorted. “Not a chance. He’s fixated on me for some reason—probably because he knows all about my father. He’s not exactly a copycat of that killer, but he’s close enough. Thinks he’s being clever by pulling another Brody into his sick world.”

  She bit her lip. “No news on anything happening at the bridge today at those coordinates he sent me?”

  “No. Those coordinates were for my edification. Who knows what he has planned next, if anything.”

  He snatched the potato from her, which she’d been scrubbing down to the flesh. “I like a little potato skin on my baked potatoes.”

  She laughed. “Crime and cooking don’t mix.”

  “Crime and a lot of things don’t mix. Let’s drop it.”

  They finished preparing the meal by exchanging small talk, and it almost felt like a normal date. But she’d never dated anyone like Sean Brody before. His intensity always simmered beneath the surface. He ran so hot, he could grill those steaks without the heat.

  She stole a glance at his backside, snug in a pair of faded jeans he’d pulled on after shedding his suit. What would it feel like to have all that intensity unleashed in the bedroom?

  “Rare or well-done?”

  “Huh?” She blinked as he shot her a curious glance over his shoulder.

  “Your steak—rare, medium or well-done?”

  “I grew up on a cattle ranch. I like mine medium rare and juicy.”

  His eyes flicked to her chest and back to her face so quickly she might have imagined it. “Juicy, it is.”

  She dug into his silverware drawer and grabbed a handful of utensils. Had he read her thoughts? Probably just looked at her face, which would forever preclude her from being a professional poker player.

  The microwave beeped and he turned from the sizzling steaks. “That’s your asparagus. I have some butter over here, unless you prefer something fancier.”

  “I prefer...butter.” She turned and grabbed the bowl of asparagus from the microwave and felt like replacing it with her head. If that’s the best she could do at seduction, the only beef she’d get tonight would be that medium-rare steak. She giggled. She’d been hanging around Courtney too long.

  “Something funny about the asparagus?”

  “Well, there is something inherently funny about the vegetable, isn’t there.” She plucked a hot spear from the bowl with her fingertips and held it up. “It even looks like a...”

  She bit off the end of the asparagus and practically choked on it.

  Sean cleared his throat. “Phallic symbol?”

  Popping the rest of the spear in her mouth, she nodded. She should’ve been paying more attention to Courtney over the past year of their friendship. She was pretty sure her friend wouldn’t be using asparagus as a tool of seduction.

  Sean stabbed the steaks with a long fork and dropped them onto two plates. “I think I got that medium rare. Let me know your expert opinion.”

  “Actually, I’ve probably had one steak since hightailing it out of Montana.”

  “Uh-oh. Is this steak going to bring up bad memories and make you head for the hills?”

  “I think I can handle it. Steak sauce?”

  “In the fridge.”

  He stood by his chair until she sat down across from him. “We make a good team...in the kitchen.”

  She took a gulp of water. She had to get out of dangerous territory. Clutching her fork and steak knife, she said, “I think we make a pretty good investigative team, too. Is there any way we can unseal Dr. Patrick’s files now that he’s dead?”

  Sean didn’t seem to mind the shift in topic, and his brow furrowed as he cut into his steak. “That’s what’s been bothering me, one of many things. If the department knew my father was seeing Dr. Patrick at the time of his...death, I would’ve thought they’d demand his records.”

  “Maybe they did.”

  “But they left everything as unsolved. Those murders are still cold cases. If Dr. Patrick’s sessions with my father had proved his innocence or guilt, it would’ve come out.”

  “Did you ever ask anyone?”

  “I wasn’t aware that my father even saw Dr. Patrick until we discussed it this morning.” He put down his fork with a piece of meat stuck to the end, a frown still marring his features.

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t you think it’s an incredible coincidence that the day I discover Dr. Patrick saw my father, the good doctor winds up dropping dead of a heart attack?”

  “Yes, especially since he died at my feet. But what are you saying? A heart attack is a heart attack. Do you think my visit caused his heart attack?” She ran crisscrosses on her plate with her fork.

  “Seems like he suffered the attack just before you arrived.”

  “What’s your point, Sean?”

  “Heart attacks can be induced.”

  She dropped her fork. “You think someone killed Dr. Patrick by injecting him with something that caused his heart to fail?”

  “It’s too coincidental, Elise. It’s unbelievable that his death occurred the very day we found him.”

  “And it’s believable that someone killed him? Why would someone want to kill Dr. Patrick before he could tell you anything about your father?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He picked up his fork and took the piece of steak between his teeth.

  “If you don’t believe your father had anything to do with those murders twenty years ago and he was never formally charged or convicted, does it really matter anymore? You are secure in your beliefs, aren’t you?”

  He chewed, swallowed, took a sip of water and gazed over her shoulder. Then his eyes tracked back to her face, and she saw the doubt in their depths. “Maybe that’s it, Elise.”

  She had to hunch forward to catch his words, and she caught his hand at the same time. “It’s okay to have that uncertainty, Sean. It’s not being disloyal. You were a kid at the time.”

  “I don’t want to believe it.” He twisted his fingers around hers. “The man who taught me everything, the man I looked up to, couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer. He would’ve had to have been a complete sociopath.” Without losing his hold on her hand, he slumped back in his chair. “That’s the scary part. I know they exist. I know there are people out there who act just like you and me—who love and laugh and feel pain—but it’s all a pretense. They feel nothing at all.”

  “It’s more than just proving your father’s innocence to the world. You have to prove it to yourself. I get that.”

  “How did we get here?” He loosened his grip on her fingers and traced her knuckles with the pad of one finger. “You have a killer sending you notes, launching sneak attacks and you just had a man die at your feet. And you’re trying to make me feel better.”

  “You’ve done more than enough, more than I ever expected from that moment you sat down next to me in the emergency room. You’ve been by my side, going beyond the call of duty to protect me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just paying you back.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Is that what you think this is all about? Protection? Securing a witness?”<
br />
  The pulse in her wrist ticked up several notches. Could he feel it? “I’m the only witness you have right now.”

  He chuckled in the back of his throat, and the low sound sent a line of tingles racing down to her toes.

  “The SFPD is not in the bodyguarding business. We’re not going to put you in the Witness Protection Program. It’s not like you have the goods on a mobster or anything.” He scooted his chair back and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Everything I’ve done for you has been off the books and off the clock.”

  She twisted her own napkin in her lap as she tilted her head back to take in his imposing figure. “Why’d you do it?”

  “Do you have to ask?” He dropped into a crouch in front of her, like a beast ready to pounce. “You may be a kindergarten teacher from Podunk, Montana, but you’re also the runaway bride. You’re the woman in my kitchen waving around asparagus and talking about juicy slabs of meat.”

  She choked. “I...I...”

  In one fluid movement, he rose to his full height, catching her under the arms and taking her with him. He supported the back of her head with one hand and pulled her close with an arm wrapped around her waist.

  He stared into her face, his lips centimeters from her own, so close she felt the scorching heat of his breath. “I want you, Elise Duran. I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you bundled up in that hospital bed, and I can’t even explain it.”

  Her breath came out in short spurts. “Maybe I’m your redemption, the means of redressing your father’s sins.”

  “If redemption feels this good—” he ran a slow hand down the beads of her spine and rested it on the curve of her hip “—I should’ve gone in for it years ago.”

  Her lashes fluttered and she parted her lips. If he released her now, she’d fall to the floor.

  “Now stop.” He kissed her temple. “Talking.” He kissed her left eyelid. “About.” He kissed her earlobe. “My father.” His lips trailed across her throat, and his tongue circled the indentation below her Adam’s apple.