Brody Law. Carol Ericson
find any signs of a break-in. It’s pretty apparent he used my key to get in.”
“Look around anyway.”
She pulled open a drawer in her dining nook where she kept a camera and her MP3 player. Both were undisturbed. “I don’t think he was interested in stealing anything, just game playing.”
“Obviously, he used your key. I’m not checking your doors and windows to see how he got in.”
She returned to the bathroom door with the laptop tucked under one arm. “What for then?”
Brody balanced on the edge of her tub and peered at the small frosted window above it. “I’m just making sure he didn’t rig something so he can get back in once you change the locks.”
She shivered and hugged the computer to her chest. “I’m glad someone’s mind works that way.”
“Keep looking. Maybe he left something behind.” He jumped from the tub, surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy.
She settled the laptop on the kitchen table and did a search for locksmiths. She placed a call to one who worked weekends and made emergency calls.
While Brody continued checking the doors and windows, Elise rifled through her drawers and closets. She didn’t find anything amiss, but the thought of that maniac in her house gave her pause every once in a while, and she had to close her eyes to catch her breath.
She had no intention of telling her folks back home about this. She could picture the pinched faces and I-told-you-so’s already. They didn’t need to know. Of course, there’d be no hiding it if she wound up dead.
A figure moved across her window, and she gasped and crossed her hands over her heart. She crept closer and let out a long breath when she saw Brody poking around the plants by the sliding glass door.
She rapped on the glass, and he looked up. He’d tossed his tie over his shoulder and rolled up his shirt sleeves, his tattoo peeking from the cuff.
She wouldn’t mind seeing that sight out her window every morning.
She unlocked the window and shoved up the sash. Pressing her nose to the mesh screen, she called out, “Find anything weird?”
He thrust one arm into the tangle of flowers and withdrew a blue ball of glass. He cradled it in his hands, lifting it as if in offering. “Just this. What is it?”
Her face warmed, but he probably couldn’t see her heightened color through the screen. “It’s just some decoration.”
The woman at the psychic shop in The Haight had told her it would ward off evil. Guess the killer with the fake English accent hadn’t come through the backyard.
Someone knocked on the front door.
“That’s either your guy or my locksmith.”
“Don’t answer it yet. Wait for me.”
She slammed the window shut and rubbed her fingers together to brush away the dust.
Detective Brody stepped through the sliding glass door from the patio and strode to the front of the house. Leaning forward, he placed his eye at the peephole. “That’s my guy.”
He swung open the door. “You’re fast, Jacoby.”
“So are you.” The short, powerfully built man hoisted a black bag off his shoulder. “You haven’t even written your report yet and you’re working the case.”
Detective Brody pointed down her hallway. “The man who abducted Ms. Duran made his way back to her place and left a message on the mirror.” He gestured to Elise. “This is Elise Duran, the vic—the woman who got away.”
His words caused a warm glow in her tummy. A man who listened.
“I’m Dan Jacoby, fingerprint tech extraordinaire.” They shook hands and he squeezed her fingertips as if trying to get a read on her pads. “You’re one brave lady.”
“Nice to meet you, and I did what anyone would do to get away.” She waved a hand behind her. “Do you want to see the mirror first?”
“After you.”
Jacoby followed her so closely, she tugged on the hem of her skirt. She really needed to put on some clothes.
Elise led the two men to her bathroom and pushed the door wide, not that the small space could accommodate all three of them. Side by side, the shoulders of the two men could practically span the room.
Jacoby whistled through his teeth. “You failed to mention he’d left the message for you, Brody.”
“Yeah, one of these megalomaniacs seeking attention. He’s not happy just committing murder. He wants to make sure everyone knows how smart he is.”
“The joys of being a homicide detective. These nut jobs know your names, follow your careers.” Jacoby dropped his bag on the tile floor. “Give me my fingerprints and anonymity.”
While Jacoby unzipped the bag, Brody tugged on her arm. “Let’s give him some room to work, unless you want to watch.”
She backed out of the bathroom. “That’s okay. I’ll wait for my locksmith.”
She didn’t know if it was Jacoby’s muscles or personality, but his presence overpowered the bathroom.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
Again, Brody went to it first and peered through the peephole. He opened the door a crack. “Yeah?”
“Someone called for a locksmith.” The locksmith held out a card between two fingers.
Brody plucked it from his grip and showed it to Elise.
She nodded. “That’s the company I called.”
Brody widened the door, and the locksmith stamped his feet on the mat outside.
“Show me what you need.”
“All locks with a key, changed.” Elise twisted the doorknob. “Starting with this one, as well as the dead bolt. There’s an interior door to the garage, too. Same key.”
“Can you show me some ID?” He eyed Detective Brody. “You’re not the only careful ones around here. We have to look up the title to the house and verify the owner.”
Elise twisted her fingers. “I’m not the owner. The owner lives upstairs and he’s not home.”
The locksmith squinted at a piece of paper in his hands. “Who’s the owner?”
“Oscar Chu.”
“Yep. That’s what I have here.”
“I can give you his cell. He’ll vouch for me.”
Detective Brody stepped between her and the locksmith, whipping out his badge. “I’ll vouch for her. I’m Detective Sean Brody, and Ms. Duran needs her locks changed for security reasons.”
The locksmith scratched his jaw as he eyed the badge. “If you say so.”
Elise pressed her lips together as she led the locksmith to the door leading to the garage. While she felt grateful that Detective Brody had intervened and smoothed the way for her to get her locks changed, his take-charge attitude on her behalf left a sour taste in her mouth. She’d had her fill of it from her father and brothers.
Shaking her head, she rolled back her shoulders. This situation bore little resemblance to the way the male members of her family had tried to control her life. This was a matter of life and death, not marriage and betrayal.
And here she thought she’d gotten over the “all men are scum” stage.
She tapped the garage door. “Just match the dead bolts and door handle locks for the garage and the front door, and give me two keys—three. I’d better give one to Oscar.”