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

She encircled his wrists with her fingers. “I am involved, Sean, and it’s not ancient history to me. It’s my story, right now. And I want to help you in any way I can.”

His dark eyes burned into hers, and she didn’t look away. She didn’t ever want to look away. She wanted to get lost in the depths of his soul and bring light to his darkness.

When his lips touched hers, they scorched her with their heat and passion. She sagged against his chest, and he wrapped one arm around her waist.

He deepened the kiss and she drank him in, getting drunk on the sensations that swirled through her body. Who needed wine? She had Sean Brody.

Courtney yelped from the top of the stairs, and they jumped apart.

She called down. “This new client is going to be a pain. First session today, and he’s already calling me after hours.”

Elise rolled her eyes at Sean. “Is it an emergency?”

“He thinks so, but I talked him down from the ledge, so to speak.” Courtney stopped on the staircase, clutching her phone in her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still here, Sean.”

He held up his hand. “I’m on my way out.”

“Don’t let me scare you away.” She drew a circle around her face, which was caked with green paste. “When this comes off, I’m more beautiful than ever.”

Elise slipped her arm through his. “I’ll walk you out. Thanks for dinner.”

“My pleasure.” He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “I hope you’re feeling better after today’s events.”

“I feel fine, but it’ll be nice having the Oakland P.D. patrolling the school this week.”

“And your leg?”

“Stiff and sore, but it could be worse, right?”

“You’re tough, kid.”

“It’s like you said before. He’s going to make a mistake soon.”

He cupped her face with one hand and brushed his lips against hers. “I just don’t want you getting burned.”

As she watched him walk down the hallway to the elevator, she murmured, “Too late for that, Sean Brody. Too late for that.”

Chapter Twelve (#ulink_b637b472-f543-586e-8726-964db30cdc09)

Sean hunched over the counter, studied Marie’s lined face and gave her his best smile. “I know where the boxes are, Marie.”

She tapped a pen on top of the log book. “You should. You’ve practically worn a path in the linoleum back there over the years.”

He plucked the pen from her fingers, the long red fingernails at odds with her age-spotted skin, and slid the log book toward him.

Marie snatched it away. “You don’t need to sign in, Sean.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Since when?”

“Since the brass has been snooping through the books.”

His pulse jumped. “Looking for what?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” She raised her plump shoulders. “I just don’t think they need to see your name written in ink checking out your dad’s case files again. Especially now.”

He leaned in closer, his breath fogging the glass in the window. “What are you hearing?”

“I’m hearing a killer has you on speed dial.”

“And?” He licked his lips.

“Just that.”

Sean dropped the pen. “Maybe I don’t need to look through the boxes again.”

“Be my guest. I won’t remember that you were here. My memory is notoriously bad on Tuesdays.”

“Even Tuesdays twenty years ago?”

“Mmm, back then I had trouble with Saturdays.” She put her finger on the side of her prominent nose. “What am I supposed to recall about twenty years in the past besides the fact that I had cleavage that could cause whiplash?”

“You still got it, Marie.”

“You Brody boys are all charmers.” She tapped on the glass with one of her long nails. “Tell me what you need.”

Sean folded his hands on top of the log book, pressing his thumbs together. “Who did the department use for therapy in those days? You know, for officer-involved shootings, alcoholism, the works.”

She laughed, a sharp bark that filled the small front office of the records room. “I thought you were going to test me, Brody.”

“You remember without even looking?”

“The department used only one guy in those days, and we had him for eighteen years. Dr. James Patrick. He retired just seven years ago. That’s who your dad would’ve seen.”

“Did he see him?”

Marie looked both ways. “I don’t know, but I do know they made the recommendation. Usually when the department makes the recommendation, you’d better follow through or it could be your job.”

“It wound up being his life.”

Marie reached through the space under the window and patted Sean’s arm. “He must’ve had a good reason to do that, Sean, leaving you and your brothers and Joanne. Someone or something drove him to it, and I don’t believe for one minute it was guilt over any murders.”

“I appreciate that, Marie.”

She coughed her smoker’s cough. “If you appreciate it so much, why don’t you send those good-looking brothers of yours over here to visit an old lady?”

“I’ll get right on it—after I solve this case.”

“Which case, Sean?”