Brody Law: The Bridge / The District / The Wharf / The Hill

“He hasn’t contacted me again. Probably just a jab at law enforcement.”

He’d figured the guy probably knew his history and was taunting him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“There’s a roll of paper towels on the counter and window cleaner under the sink in the kitchen.”

The lipstick smeared the mirror as he swept damp paper towels across it. A few more swipes and the words disappeared. If only he could erase them from his mind as easily.

Elise hovered at the bathroom door. “Ready? I have everything.”

“Let’s go.” He crumpled the used paper towels in his hand and dropped them into the kitchen trash and replaced the glass cleaner under the sink.

He loaded her remaining bags in the trunk of his car and took off for what he hoped would be her safe house for a while.

They wended their way through the city streets as the late-afternoon sun streamed through the buildings and glinted off the water that made an occasional appearance when they crested a hill.

Sean pulled into the lot at the Central Station in Chinatown, where Elise’s hybrid huddled between two patrol cars. If the killer had followed her here, where had he parked? Spaces were at a premium and he wouldn’t have wanted to risk a parking ticket, which could be traced.

Maybe he’d watched from his car as she went into the restaurant and then figured he’d have time to park in a public lot near Union Square and pick up her trail on foot when she’d finished lunch. However he’d done it, the guy was no amateur.

Had he killed before somewhere else and then taken his sick proclivities on the road to terrorize a new city?

He pulled behind Elise’s car, leaving the engine running.

She opened the door and placed one foot on the ground. “Aren’t you going to transfer my bags from your car to mine?”

“I told you. I’m following you over. I’ll bring your bags in for you when we get there.”

She rattled off her friend’s address. “In case I lose you on the way.”

He whistled. “Nice neighborhood.”

“Family money. Their parents owned a lot of properties here, including that house where I live.”

“Good. That’s a safe part of town.”

He followed Elise’s car. She drove so slowly, there’s no way she could lose him—and probably no way she could’ve avoided being tailed by her stalker, no matter what she believed.

She pulled in front of a modern building, supported by gleaming white pillars. She pointed out her car window at a driveway that sloped down toward a wrought-iron gate.

Sean made a U-turn and parked in front of the condo complex while Elise rolled into the parking garage. He popped the trunk and gathered Elise’s two bags over one shoulder and settled her suitcase on its wheels.

“I can take one of those.” Elise had appeared on a walkway next to the driveway.

“I got ’em. Lead the way.” He followed her up the marble tile steps, and she used her friend’s key to open the front door. “Is your friend going to be home?”

“I have no idea.”

They went to the second floor and Elise stopped at one of just three doors on the hallway. She knocked first, listened and then unlocked the door.

The decor of the condo almost blinded him—modern, tasteful and white. He preferred Elise’s jumble of colorful styles.

She called out, “Courtney?”

There was an upstairs as well, and Elise stood at the foot of the staircase, her hand resting on the chrome banister.

“I guess she’s not home yet.”

Sean parked her suitcase in a corner and piled her other two bags on top of it. “I’ll stick around until she gets here.”

Elise spun around and plopped down on the second step of the staircase. “Did you find out anything about the woman on my phone?”

“Her name’s Katie Duncan, twenty-five years old.”

“Duncan? That’s weird.”

“Do you know the name?”

“Duncan, Duran—maybe he’s going through the phone book.” She snapped her fingers. “What was the name of the other woman? The one found at the Presidio?”

“Carlson.”

Her eyes popped. “C, D.”

“Are you in the phone book?” Sean’s hand tightened on the banister. Of course, he’d noticed the similarity between Elise’s and Katie’s names, but who used phone books anymore?

“No, I’m not. I suppose it’s just a coincidence, but maybe he’s looking at some alphabetical list of something.”

Pain needled the back of his neck and he clasped it, rolling his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Headache.” He dropped to the bottom step and leaned against the wall. “Katie wasn’t a teacher, so it’s not some alphabetical list of teachers.”

“What did she do?”

“She was a legal secretary.”

“Had she ever been to the Speakeasy, like me?”

“We’re looking into it.” He leveled a finger at her. “You’re becoming a good detective.”

“I have a vested interest in seeing Katie’s, and maybe the Carlson woman’s, killer nailed. I don’t want to live in fear. He may not know where I’m staying now, but he knows my name. Who knows what kind of info he can get on me?”

A key scraped in the lock and the front door swung open. Sean jumped to his feet as a young Asian woman stumbled into the entryway loaded down with shopping bags.

She stopped when she saw them and dropped half the bags. “You scared the spit out of me!”

“Sorry.” Elise squeezed past him on the stairs and hugged her friend, bags and all. “Courtney, this is Detective Sean Brody. Sean, this is Courtney Chu.”