Brody Law. Carol Ericson
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to get caught over a set of fingerprints. The Oakland cops looked anyway and they’ll let us know.”
“What do you think those numbers mean, other than the 187?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. These guys aren’t as clever as they think they are.” Sean traced his fingers along the edges of the blocks. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you get out of here?”
“Three more days.” She strolled to the whiteboard and erased the number four, grabbed a red marker and wrote three in its place. Then she changed the date in the upper-right corner of the board for tomorrow.
Sean focused on the date and approached the whiteboard, his muscles tense. “It’s June twelfth tomorrow.”
“Our last day is the...” She dropped the marker and spun around. “It’s six, twelve tomorrow.”
“One plus one equals 187, and six plus twelve equals 187.”
“He’s going to kill again tomorrow. One plus one?”
“Maybe he’s going to kill more than one person.”
Elise put her hands over her eyes as if she could block out the truth. “Why is he telling me? I don’t want to know this.”
This time he did take her in his arms—hard. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her body. She stiffened for a second. He knew she wanted to stand on her own, but then she melted against him, her arms curling around his waist.
The trembling of her body subsided, and Sean stroked her silky hair.
Sighing, she tipped back her head. “I guess I am involved in your work, whether you like it or not. He’s sending messages to both of us now.”
“I definitely don’t like it, but this does have a weird silver lining.”
Her eyes widened, and he felt her heart pick up speed.
Did she think he was going to admit having her in his arms was the silver lining? Not even that could make it okay that she’d become the obsession of some serial killer.
“Since he’s communicating with you, he’s not going to want to hurt you. For whatever reason, he wants to brag to you, keep you in his sick loop. For now, that’s keeping you safe.”
She dropped her head in a sharp nod and pulled away from him. “I guess that’s something.”
He’d disappointed her, and he immediately wanted to make it up to her. “I’m going to follow you back to your friend’s place.”
“That’s not necessary.” She hoisted her school bag over one shoulder and her purse over the other. “Didn’t you just say I was safe as long as he was still communicating with me?”
“Safe is a relative term. What are your plans for dinner?” He flicked off the lights of her classroom and stepped into the hallway as she pulled the door shut and locked it.
“Food.” She spun away from her classroom door, and her low heels clicked on the floor as Sean tried to keep up with her.
She unlocked her car door and he stepped in front of her to open it for her. “Is Courtney going to be home?”
“I’m not sure.” She opened the back door of her car and tossed her bag inside. “She sometimes sees clients late so they can come in after work.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He didn’t want to leave her on her own. “I’ll be right on your tail just to make sure you get back to her place safely.”
Elise wheeled out of the parking lot and Sean followed her through the rough neighborhood. It didn’t surprise him that she taught the kids in this area, and they needed a teacher like Elise—strong and fearless and willing to go up against a killer for them.
He tailed her across the Bay Bridge, and that other bridge invaded his thoughts. Why had this killer chosen to dump his victim in view of the Golden Gate? Was it a nod to those other murders so many years ago? The murders that impacted his life, formed him, shaped him?
He rubbed his knuckles across his tattoo—a Phoenix that symbolized his rise from the ashes of his early life. A life that threatened to stake its claim over him with these recent murders.
Twenty minutes later, he turned onto Courtney’s street and watched Elise’s taillights disappear into the underground parking garage. He pulled to the curb and exited his vehicle. He waited by the building’s entrance until Elise peeked out the window, cupping her hand around her face. The electronic lock clicked and he pulled open the door.
“That’s not a bad commute for you to your own place, either.”
“It’s a lot better when I leave school at my regular time. You know, the days I’m not involved in a police investigation.”
He jerked his thumb toward the garage. “Is Courtney home yet?”
“No.”
“Do you want to share some dinner with me?”
“Dinner?” She folded her arms across her chest and gripped the straps of her bags.
“My stomach was growling all the way over, so I ordered some Italian to be delivered here.” He spread his hands. “It would be a lot better if I could eat my dinner here and share it with you instead of hauling it home to eat by myself.”
She hunched her shoulders. “Is that allowed? Are you still working?”
“I thought I told you. I have the day off today. Can’t you tell?” He plucked at his T-shirt. “I think I’m allowed to eat where I want on my day off.”
A small red car squealed to a stop at the curb.
“I think that’s your dinner now.” She pointed out the door as the driver climbed out of his car and popped his trunk.
“Our dinner. A little ravioli, eggplant parmigiana, chopped salad, garlic bread.”
“Is there enough for two?”
“I ordered for two. Even if I didn’t, you don’t look like you could make much of a dent in a pile of ravioli.”
She snorted. “You’d be surprised.” She stepped around him and pushed the door wide, gesturing to the driver. “Get that food up here.”
The kid stumbled, his eyes darting from Sean to Elise.
Sean laughed. “It’s okay. She’s harmless, just hungry.”
The delivery boy thrust the box, piled with white paper bags, toward Sean.
Sean dug into his pocket for some bills and paid the kid. “Lead the way.”
By the time they got to Courtney’s door, the smell of garlic filled the hallway.
Elise stepped into the condo and pulled him in after her. “Quick, before Courtney’s neighbors riot. They’re a snooty bunch.”
He placed the bags on the granite countertop of the kitchen’s center island. “Restroom?”
She pointed to a door across from the staircase.
By the time he returned, she’d pulled plates, bowls and silverware from the cupboards and drawers.
He lifted the foil tins from the bags and removed their covers. Steam rose from the dishes, and Sean’s mouth watered.
Elise scooped up the salad and dropped it into the two bowls with her head tilted to one side. “You actually laughed down there.”
He tore a piece of garlic bread from the loaf and bit into it, a warm trickle of butter running down his chin. He blotted his face with a napkin while he chewed. “I do occasionally laugh. I am human.”
And despite the circumstances, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite the death all around him, more alive.