The Bridge

Elise followed him to the interrogation room, her head cranking from side to side as they waded through ringing phones, shouts across the room and people crisscrossing the space with papers or files clutched in their hands.

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s noisier than a kindergarten classroom in here.”

“Probably about the same level of maturity, too.” He pushed open the door to the interrogation room and ushered her inside.

Davros stood up and extended his hand. “I’m Tony Davros, Ms. Duran. Wish we were meeting under happier circumstances.”

Sean raised one eyebrow in Davros’s direction. That’s the most words he’d heard from the artist’s mouth in almost two years. Davros had even pulled out a chair for Elise.

First Jacoby and now the sketch artist. He got it. Elise’s fresh-faced, angelic appearance spurred men on to chivalrous deeds, prompting them to pull out chairs and hand over jackets. Even the typically surly Davros wasn’t immune.

“Me, too.” She shook Davros’s hand and dropped onto the wooden chair. “I’m afraid the man was wearing a disguise—beard, wig, glasses, even a phony accent.”

“That’s not uncommon.” Davros swept his palm across a piece of sketch paper and caressed his pencil. “We’ll start with the shape of his face—what you could see of it.”

The two of them went back and forth for several minutes, the artist coaxing and praising as his pencil moved swiftly across the page in front of him.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Sean sauntered to where Davros sat hunched over his sketch pad, the tip of his tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he further defined the nose of the suspect.

Sean squinted at the face. Would someone be able to recognize him without the beard and moustache? Davros’s job entailed drawing another picture without the facial hair and glasses, perhaps with shorter hair.

“That’s close to what I remember.” Elise tossed her ponytail over her shoulder as she leaned over the drawing.

A sharp rap at the door interrupted them, and before Sean could even offer an invitation, it swung open and banged against the wall.

Sergeant Curtis from homicide, his eyes bugging out, thrust his head into the room. “We just got a call from patrol about a dead body, and I think you’re going to want to head out there, Brody.”

Sean’s heart slammed against his rib cage. “And why is that?”

“It’s the girl in the picture.”

Chapter Five

The blood rushed to Elise’s head and she gripped the edge of the table as the room spun. She had a picture of a dead woman on her phone.

He’d killed her. He abducted her, took her picture and murdered her. And he sent that picture to her.

“How do you know it’s the same person?” Detective Brody had straightened up to his full height and his body seemed coiled for action. The waves of his tension reverberated off the walls of the small room.

The cop who’d delivered the news gripped the doorknob. “As soon as you forwarded the picture to us, we sent it out to patrol. When the unit discovered the body, they checked the picture. It’s a match.”

“Do you have any details, Curtis? Cause of death?”

“Not yet, but she didn’t drown even though the fishermen found the body at the edge of the bay.”

“The bay? Her body was found in the bay?” Detective Brody shot Elise a quick glance.

“Not in the bay, at the edge. Right over that small incline that borders the parking lot for the Golden Gate. That’s why we know she didn’t drown unless it was recent.” His eyes shifted between Elise and the sketch artist, and he cleared his throat. “No bloating.”

Elise covered her mouth and clenched her teeth.

Detective Brody stepped in front of her as if to shield her from the other detective’s words and the image they’d already created in her head.

“We’ll discuss the rest of this on the way.”

Sergeant Curtis dipped his head. “Sorry, Ms. Duran. I’ll ride with you, Brody.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Detective Brody made a half turn toward her.

“I’m fine.” Elise held up her hands. “I’m going straight to my friend’s house after this.”

“How will I reach you? We have to keep your phone.”

“I should hope so.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’ll pick up another phone today and contact you with the new number.”

“Make sure you do. And Elise—” he pinned her with his dark gaze “—don’t go back to your house.”

She drew a cross over her heart. “I promise.”

And that’s the only thing she’d promise him right now.

Fifteen minutes later Elise sat in her car, her hands clutching the steering wheel. She could do this. She needed to know more, had a right to know more.

She rolled out of the parking garage and hung a left. She knew better than to follow Detective Brody’s car. The guy seemed to be on high alert at all times. He’d notice one small hybrid following him to a crime scene.

Besides, she already knew the way. Hadn’t her life almost ended in the exact same spot?

When she pulled into the parking lot for the bridge, she didn’t have to worry about standing out. The tourist season was in high gear, and a trip to the Golden Gate Bridge was high on everyone’s list.

A crowd of people had already formed at the edge of the lot where it led down to the gravel by the water. She stumbled from her car, and a brisk breeze cut her to the bone. She fished a sweater out of her backseat and put it on over her bulky cable knit. You could never have too many layers in San Francisco.

She scrambled from the car and tugged the sweater around her tighter, unrolling the sleeves so they hung over her hands. She shuffled up to the fringes of the crowd.

“What happened?” Elise stood on her tiptoes, not knowing what she hoped she would or wouldn’t see.

A man looked over his shoulder. “There’s a dead body down there.”

The woman standing to her right clicked her tongue. “Is it a jumper?”

That’s what the city workers had thought of her. Is that what this killer wanted everyone to believe? No. He wanted to shout his deeds from the rooftops. He wanted the distinction of impressing everyone with his cleverness or he never would’ve left that note for Brody.

The tall man in front of her snorted. “That’s not a jumper this close to the shore. The current’s too fast out there.”

Elise ducked and shimmied between two of the curious onlookers. She zeroed in on Detective Brody’s unmistakable form, his arm raised as if directing traffic.

Someone had covered the body with a sheet, securing the four corners against the wind that snatched at its edges. Frustrated in its efforts to pluck the sheet from the dead body, the wind found another outlet, puffing up the sheet so that it looked like a sail at full speed ahead.

But that girl wasn’t going anywhere—ever.