Brody Law: The Bridge / The District / The Wharf / The Hill. Carol Ericson

across her lips. She needed all the artificial brightening she could handle after that shock at the bridge.

      He’d spotted her. Knew her car. Maybe he’d been watching her.

      She smacked the visor against the roof of the car. He was too cocky. Detective Brody—Sean—was right. The killer would trip up sooner rather than later with his attitude of invincibility.

      “Sean.” Just saying his name made her feel more at ease. He’d even secured a parking space for her in the middle of Chinatown on a parade day. Now, there was a man you could count on—not like Ty, filled with secrets, lies and betrayals.

      She slipped out of the car and walked down the ramp to the sidewalk. Red and gold banners festooned lampposts and flapped in the breeze. Elise navigated between colorful lawn chairs and blankets lining the sidewalks. She sniffed the air filled with the scents of incense, spices and fried food. A pack of kids jostled her as they ran down the sidewalk clutching flags with red dragons emblazoned upon them. Their grandparents shuffled in their wake, smiling and nodding at Elise.

      She ducked into the dark confines of Han Ting and surveyed the packed dining room. She and Courtney would be lucky to find a table.

      “Elise!”

      Elise peered across the room at Courtney bobbing up from her seat and waving in her direction. She wound through the tables and gave her friend a one-armed hug before sitting down.

      “How in the world did you get a table? Did you even know that the Dragon Boat Parade was going on today?”

      Courtney flicked her perfectly manicured fingers. “Duh. I grew up in Chinatown, remember? I know what today is.”

      “And how did you manage to snag a table? It’s wall-to-wall people in here.”

      “My auntie’s family owns Han Ting. Technically, she’s not my aunt, but her family and my mom’s family lived next door to each other in the old neighborhood.”

      “First a prime parking spot, and then the best table in the house at Han Ting. It pays to know people in high places.”

      “You got a parking spot?”

      “It’s a long story.” Elise dropped a napkin in her lap and poured herself some tea from the ornate pot.

      “Stop stalling and tell me what happened after you left me.” Courtney tapped her cup and Elise filled it with the fragrant green tea.

      As Elise relayed the details of the frightening episode, Courtney’s lipsticked mouth formed a perfect O and she clutched her napkin to her chest.

      “Oh, my God, you are so amazing.”

      “Amazing? I wasn’t even thinking straight. I just knew I had to get out of that trunk. I was also mad at myself for falling prey to his broken-arm scam.”

      Elise held her breath, waiting for Courtney to agree with her. She never would’ve fallen for that ruse.

      “Are you kidding?” Courtney dropped her napkin and gulped the rest of her tea. “Anybody would’ve done the same thing. He had a cast on. Who would go to those lengths?”

      “I guess it’s not the first time a serial killer has used that method.”

      “Serial killer?” Courtney covered her mouth when the waiter approached the table. She rattled off their order in Mandarin, and when the waiter left she focused her bright eyes on Elise again.

      “How do you know this is a serial killer and not some random nut?”

      Elise folded her hands around the warm cup. “Because he killed again.”

      “How do you know?”

      Elise explained how the runner found her purse and phone and how the killer had sent the picture of his next victim. “Then when I was at the police station working with the sketch artist, a call came in that someone had found the woman’s body.”

      “Elise, this is too creepy.” She grabbed Elise’s wrist, her nails digging into her skin. “You can’t stay at the house, especially with Oscar gone.”

      “That’s where you come in, if it’s okay.”

      “Of course it’s okay.”

      The waiter rolled up a cart with enough steaming plates to feed the Hun army. When he transferred all the dishes to the table, Elise dumped a mound of sticky white rice onto her plate.

      As Elise ladled three different entrees onto her plate, she wondered whether or not she should tell Courtney about the note on her windshield.

      She glanced at her friend dabbing a spot of red sauce at the corner of her mouth with a napkin and decided against it. She’d shocked Courtney enough for one sunny afternoon. She didn’t need to hear the rest of the frightening details.

      “Do they know how the woman died or how long she’d been there?”

      “Change of subject, please. I want to enjoy my lunch.”

      “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Courtney stabbed a shrimp and shook it at Elise. “Here’s a subject change for you—how hot is this Detective Brody who’s following you around and scoring you parking places all over the city?”

      Elise’s face got warmer than the kung pao chicken. “Who said he was hot?”

      Courtney snorted. “You did. Every time you mentioned his name and or his heroic deeds, you got all dreamy-eyed.”

      “That’s ridiculous.” Elise plucked the shrimp from Courtney’s fork and popped it into her mouth.

      “Don’t forget, I read body language for a living, and you have one of those faces that show all your emotions—must be a Montana thing.”

      “Okay, I succumb to your superior understanding. Detective Sean Brody is hot—tall, dark and handsome.”

      Courtney held out her fist for a bump. “Well, all right. That’s one silver lining to a very scary night.”

      “And you? Who’s Derrick, and did he ever call you?”

      “Derrick is that fine African-American who bought us that second round of drinks.”

      “Bought you a second round. I just had one, remember?”

      “Whatever. After you left, we danced the rest of the night.”

      “He seemed like a nice guy, but kind of a player.”

      “Okay, not every guy is a player like your Montana cowboy. Look at the luscious Detective Brody. I’ll bet he’s not a player.”

      She shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like it, but I don’t know much about him.”

      Courtney’s phone buzzed, and as she checked the display, a crease formed between her eyebrows. “Client. I need to take this.”

      “Do you want to take some of this food to go?”

      “Sure. Have them pack it up.” Courtney scooted back her chair, already punching in her client’s number.

      She might be a party girl on the surface, but as a therapist Courtney was committed to her clients. She’d drop everything at a moment’s notice to see them and talk them through some crisis.

      Elise asked for some to-go boxes and was scooping the food into the little white cartons when Courtney returned to the table.

      Courtney unhooked her purse from the back of her chair. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to have to run out on you and meet my client at my office—emergency. Can you take the food? You can go straight to my place. I’ll give you the key.”

      She reached for her wallet, but Elise held up her hand. “I’ll get lunch. After all, I’m going to be your guest for the next few days.”

      “Longer if you need it.” She waved to an old Chinese woman stationed