Brody Law. Carol Ericson

kept in the dark again, and this situation with Sean was a lot darker than a cheating fiancé.

      She grabbed the door handle again and pushed out of the car before she could talk herself out of it. Pausing on the steps to the town house, she pulled out her phone and left another message for Sean letting him know her plans.

      She might not want to be kept in the dark, but she didn’t want to keep him in the dark, either.

      With just fourteen units in the building, Elise located Dr. Patrick’s place quickly. A sliding window beside the front door was open halfway across, and the sounds of a game show floated through the mesh screen obscuring the view inside the house.

      She scooped in a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

      A bump and a scrape resounded from inside, and Elise straightened her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face as if this were the most natural house call in the world. But the door didn’t swing open.

      She knocked, leaning in toward the window. “Dr. Patrick? My name is Elise Duran. I’m a friend of Detective Sean Brody’s. He...we wanted to ask you a few questions about his father, Detective Joseph Brody.”

      The scraping noise grew louder, and a raspy moan accompanied it.

      “Dr. Patrick?” Elise pressed her face against the screen.

      A man, leaning heavily against a kitchen chair, shuffled toward the door, one hand holding his left arm.

      Elise’s stomach flip-flopped. “Dr. Patrick? Are you all right?”

      She jiggled the door handle. Another loud scrape and a bump, and then the handle turned. The door opened inward, and the man hunched over in the doorway, his face contorted, a line of drool running from his mouth.

      The chair bumped Elise’s knees and she realized he was using it as a walker.

      “Are you okay?” She placed a knee on the chair. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

      Dr. Patrick let out a gasp and toppled to the side.

      Elise shoved the useless chair out of the way and crouched beside him, reaching for her phone with a shaky hand. “It’s going to be all right. I’m calling 9-1-1 right now.”

      He clutched her wrist in a cinching vise and pulled her toward him as the phone dropped from her hand. His mouth was working and his dark eyes burned into hers. He strained to keep his chin to his chest, holding his head off the floor.

      She ducked, her ear hovering close to his mouth while she felt for her phone on the hardwood floor.

      His words rasped from his throat. “Tell him, tell Brody.”

      Elise’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Tell him what?”

      “Tell him, tell him...his father...”

      Dr. Patrick’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped to the floor.

       Chapter Thirteen

      As the fog rolled in damp and heavy, Sean narrowed his eyes and watched the EMTs load the gurney burdened with Dr. Patrick’s body into the ambulance.

      Elise’s shoulder pressed against his, and he felt a tremble roll through her slender frame. He took a step to the side. “What the hell were you thinking?”

      Her head swiveled around so fast, her hair whipped across her face. A few strands stuck to her damp cheeks. “I didn’t cause his heart attack.”

      “I didn’t accuse of you of causing his...heart attack, but what were you doing coming out to his place on your own?” That fact upset him more than the idea that she obviously didn’t trust him.

      “I was driving back to Courtney’s from school. It’s not like I have a police escort. I could’ve stopped off for groceries, dropped in on a friend.”

      “But you chose to come here.”

      “Look—” she splayed her hands in front of her “—I had Dr. Patrick’s address, you were busy and I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

      He shoved his hands in his pockets as the ambulance trundled away from the curb. No need for a siren—Dr. Patrick was already dead from the heart attack.

      “Why didn’t you wait for me? Or why did you have to wait at all? You left me his address. I could’ve handled the questioning on my own.” He started to shake a finger in her face and made a fist instead.

      “Maybe it was fate that propelled me to go in on my own. By the time you got here, he would’ve been dead.”

      “I guess fate’s not looking out for you too well, since by the time you got here he was dying.”

      She held up her own finger. “Dying, not dead.”

      “What does that mean?” He hadn’t had two minutes to talk to her alone. By the time he got her message and had driven to Dr. Patrick’s address, the cops had already been here and he’d arrived to see the tail end of their patrol car. The EMTs were already wheeling Dr. Patrick out of his town house, and Elise was talking to the neighbors, who were now wandering back to their own lives.

      He had no idea what she’d told the cops about her reasons for being here. Had she dragged his name into it?

      “It means—” she brushed the hair from her face “—he wasn’t dead when I got here. He’d already suffered the heart attack but he was still alive.”

      “How long did he last?”

      “Long enough to talk to me.”

      He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk. “What would he have to say to a complete stranger?”

      “I wouldn’t say I was a complete stranger.” She flicked a piece of lint from the arm of her sweater. “I told him who I was through the window.”

      “You mentioned my name?”

      “Yes.”

      “What did he say?” Sean sucked in a breath and held it.

      She hugged her sweater around her body. “He told me to tell you something about your father.”

      His lips barely moved in his stiff face. “What?”

      “He died before he could tell me.”

      Sean let out a noisy breath that deflated his chest along with his hopes. “He knew, Elise. He knew something about my father.”

      She placed her cool fingers on his arm. “If he knew enough to clear your father, why didn’t he step forward at the time? I’m pretty sure your father would’ve allowed him to break confidentiality to vouch for his innocence.”

      “Are you implying Dr. Patrick knew my father was guilty?”

      “No.” Her fingernails dug into his tattoo. “I’m just trying to reason through this with you.”

      He shook his head. “There is no rhyme or reason. Why did Dr. Patrick have a heart attack today of all days, just when I found out about his existence?”

      “Coincidence. Fate, again. It was a heart attack, not murder, not suicide.”

      “The EMTs verified that to you?”

      “Short of doing an autopsy on the sidewalk? Pretty much.”

      “Damn! Minutes too late. Minutes away from getting to the bottom of this puzzle that has plagued me for twenty years.”

      Her hold on his arm turned to a caress. “The puzzle, as you call it, doesn’t define you, Sean. Whatever your father was or did, you’re here now, in this moment.”

      The tension seeped from his shoulders and he rolled them forward and backward. Then he clasped her hands between his.

      She wriggled