of it?” Sean smiled through clenched teeth.
Curtis blinked and glanced over his shoulder. “The brass doesn’t want the detective to become the story.”
“Duh. Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“I’m just telling you to watch your back, bro.” Curtis scurried off, his hands wrapped around his third mug of coffee for the day.
With the blood pounding against his temples, Sean tapped his keyboard to bring his computer to life. That was the second warning that he’d been issued this morning by well-meaning friends. How many not-so-well-meaning friends were out there spreading rumors and gossip?
When the search engine glowed brightly from the computer screen, Sean typed in the name Marie had given him earlier. He swiveled the monitor to the left, dragging it closer to the edge of the desk. If the brass could see what he was doing right now, they wouldn’t be too thrilled about this, either.
It would be easier to use the police database to look up Dr. Patrick, but Sean didn’t want to leave any kind of trail of his activities. He’d have to get his info like everyone else. A few papers Dr. Patrick had written about posttraumatic stress disorder popped up in the results, as well his attendance at a charitable organization’s fund-raiser several years ago, but Sean couldn’t get a line on a current location or phone number. Maybe he’d moved after his retirement.
His phone buzzed and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Elise’s name on the display. “Everything okay?”
“Besides the fact that two of my students decided it was a good idea to color off the paper and onto the desktop, everything’s good. Any news about that third set of numbers?”
“Longitude and latitude coordinates for the Golden Gate Bridge.”
Elise sucked in some air. “That’s the where.”
“It could’ve been if it were any other location, but the bridge? He can’t think he’s going to get away with murder on the bridge with the cameras up there.”
“You have a point, but he avoided the cameras before when he dumped Katie’s body.”
“I think he’s just messing with us...me.”
“He seems to know your past, for sure.” She coughed as the sound of kids floated over the line. “Did you get the name of the therapist?”
“Dr. James Patrick.” He tapped his screen as if she could see it. “Just doing a search on him now but not having much luck. I could do better if I used my department resources and connections, but I don’t want to go there right now.”
She paused. “The department wouldn’t be happy about you digging around in this stuff?”
He lowered his voice. “Apparently, they’re already ticked off about Ray Lopez’s report last night on the news.”
“That’s not your fault. You didn’t ask him to dredge up ancient history.”
The passion in her voice made his lip twitch—as if she were advocating for one of her kindergarteners. It had been a long time since he’d had an advocate.
“I can’t change the past. Lopez has a right to delve into any story he wants. That’s his job.”
“I don’t like reporters, never have.”
“Is that because they made the runaway bride a three-day wonder back in Deer Loop, Montana?”
“It was longer than three days—must’ve been a slow week for news.”
“Isn’t every week a slow week for news in Deer Loop?”
She laughed and the noise over the line grew louder. “The bell just rang. I have to go back to class. Talk to you later?”
“Sure. Stay safe.”
“You, too.”
Sean held the phone to his ear a minute longer, listening to silence. It felt good to have someone in his corner—not that his brothers weren’t. But they were younger when tragedy struck the family. It hadn’t impacted them as much as him, and he’d wanted it that way.
After Mom had descended into a haze of booze and prescription drugs, he’d taken it upon himself to shield and protect his younger brothers.
Now, apparently, Elise had taken it upon herself to protect him. Not that there was much she could do, but yeah, it felt good.
He didn’t want to start getting used to it.
* * *
ELISE SLASHED A red crayon across the neon green construction paper. “I will owe you big-time if you can find him for me.”
Courtney tsked over the phone, but Elise could hear the click of her keyboard. “He’s the cop. He can’t get this info on his own?”
“He’s doing this as a private citizen and doesn’t want to use the department’s resources.” Elise held her breath as Courtney hummed across the line.
“Found him in one of my directories. No phone number, but I have an address for Dr. James Patrick and he’s still local. Are you ready?”
“Fire away.” Elise scribbled down the address as Courtney read it over the line. “Thank you so much.”
“Just remember if things turn ugly, you didn’t get this info from me.”
Elise’s belly fluttered. “Why would things turn ugly? Sean’s a cop who needs some information from Dr. Patrick.”
“Whatever you say, but be careful.”
“Be careful? With Sean?” She’d never felt safer in her life than standing in the circle of that man’s arms.
“I saw Lopez’s report last night on the news, Elise. Don’t you think it’s kinda creepy?”
“The fact that his father was set up to take the fall for a string of murders? Yeah, really creepy.”
Courtney cleared her throat. “The fact that Brody senior was suspected of being a serial killer and then he took the fall all right—right off the Golden Gate Bridge. And now his son is involved in a similar scenario? Creepy.”
Anger, as hot as the red crayon, flashed through her body. “Sean is not creepy.”
“No, I’d say Sean is a hot, sexy cop. But he might be a hot, sexy cop with a secret.”
“He told me everything.”
“After not telling you anything.”
“Courtney...”
“I’m just asking you to be careful.” She clicked her tongue. “I gotta go. That new client is on the other line.”
Courtney ended the call, and Elise ripped the square containing Dr. Patrick’s address from the
