The Wharf Read online

  He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He cruised around the neighborhood and then stopped in front of a park. Punching on the dome light, he said, “Let’s do this.”

  Kacie tapped Cookie’s smartphone to wake it up. “Let’s see. First, I guess we can see any recent calls.”

  She brought the phone beneath the light, and Ryan leaned in, his head touching hers. She ran her finger down five calls. “She doesn’t get many calls for a Realtor, or else she deletes them.”

  “These three have names attached, so I’m assuming they’re family or friends, but these two are listed as being blocked—one last night, one this morning.”

  She tapped on one blocked call but nothing happened. “I guess you can’t call back a blocked number.”

  “What about any texts?”

  She accessed Cookie’s messages. “Ah, more prolific here, but it looks like they’re mostly work-related—back and forths about properties, financing, open houses.”

  “Any messages about today’s open house? Her assailant could’ve been posing as a house hunter. In fact, that’s the most likely scenario.”

  “Here’s a thread about it.” She read the messages aloud to Ryan. “So, someone just double-checking the time and square footage of the lot.”

  “Is there a name associated with those texts?”

  “No, but there’s a phone number.”

  “How about—” he took the phone from her “—we send this person a text, posing as Cookie?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He read his message as he entered it. “‘Still interested in the house on Gladys? CP.’”

  Kacie held her breath as Ryan cupped the phone in the palm of his hand. They both focused on the hypnotic blinking cursor for a good two minutes before Kacie released her breath.

  “I guess he’s not going to respond right away.”

  “Or ever. If this is our guy, he’s gotta figure the police have his phone and are doing a little research.”

  She sat back and tilted her head against the headrest. “He’s also gotta figure the police can trace that number, right? You can trace that number, can’t you?”

  “I can pull some strings and get a line on that number, sure.”

  “That’s a start. What about those two blocked numbers?”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  Kacie covered her face with her hands and massaged her temples. “I don’t get it. Why would someone want to harm Cookie?”

  “Why would someone want to harm Dr. Franklin, my father’s police therapist?”

  “What are you talking about?” She peered at him through her fingers.

  “When my brother Sean decided to question Dr. Franklin, he wound up having a heart attack. I approach Cookie Phelps, and she winds up in a coma. Someone doesn’t want my father’s case reopened.”

  “And the only reason for that is that someone doesn’t want the truth to come out.”

  “The truth is he didn’t do it.”

  She held up her hands. “Whoa. That was a big leap.”

  “Was it?” He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “The current story is that my father was the Phone Book Killer and then offed himself to avoid detection and prosecution. If that were the truth, why bother harming all these people twenty years later if all they were going to do was confirm that truth?”

  “It could be the other way around.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at her white knuckles. “What if Dr. Franklin and Cookie had some irrefutable proof that your father was the Phone Book Killer, and someone wants to suppress that? After all, nobody ever proved that he was.”

  The silence from the other side of the car seemed to drag on forever. Kacie turned her head to take in Ryan’s profile, which seemed carved from granite.

  He spoke, barely moving his lips. “That makes no sense.”

  “I guess not. I’m just trying to look at all angles here.” She nibbled on her lower lip and stared out the window. His supposition made more sense than hers, but what did that mean for her? What did it mean for the book? And more important, had she just revealed her hand to Ryan?

  The chill from his side of the car almost had her reaching for her jacket.

  He cranked on the engine. “I’m going to look into this phone number.”

  “After dinner?”

  “Dinner?” He turned a pair of icy green eyes on her. “You really have an appetite after discovering Cookie?”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat as tears stung the backs of her eyes. Idiot. She’d leaked her personal agenda, and now that Ryan had gotten a glimpse of it, he no longer trusted her.

  To be fair, she no longer trusted herself. Not where Ryan was concerned.

  She knew the Brody brothers believed fervently in their father’s innocence. They’d shut out anyone who challenged that belief.

  And the irony of the situation was that she didn’t even know if she had an agenda anymore. She didn’t know what to believe about Joseph Brody.

  All she knew now was that she’d just lost the trust of a man she’d been falling for—a man she was having a hard time figuring out how to live without.

  But she wasn’t about to give up. Hadn’t she always fought for what she wanted? With two beautiful older sisters, the biological daughters of her adoptive parents, she’d always felt as if she had to assert herself. She knew now that the struggle had been all in her head. Her parents hadn’t really loved her any less than they had Fiona and Calista, but she’d always tried to get them to love her more because she had always felt less worthy.

  She wasn’t going to stand by and allow this amazing man to slip through her fingers. It was time to switch gears.

  She put her hand over his. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I doubted your father. Of course your theory makes much more sense than mine.”

  His arm tensed and then he turned off the car. “You don’t have to apologize for doing your job. If we’re going to get at the truth, we should discuss every angle, however sordid, however painful. Judd and I used to roll our eyes at Sean and Eric and how fierce they were in defense of Dad. Now I’ve gotten the same way. I’ve allowed myself to get sucked into this blood-is-thicker-than-water mentality where family can do no wrong.”

  “It’s understandable, Ryan. If someone were making horrible claims about a member of my family, I’d probably defend that family member to the death.”

  He slipped his hand from beneath hers and squeezed her thigh. “But you’re not just someone, and you’re not making horrible claims. You’re playing devil’s advocate. I get it. You’re doing your job, and I acted like an ass.”

  She put two fingers to his lips. “I totally get it, but I didn’t want to let your anger fester. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

  He puckered his lips and kissed her fingers. “Usually I’m the same way, but I admit it. This case has gotten under my skin, and now I feel responsible for Cookie’s predicament.”

  “How were we supposed to know she’d pay for talking to us?”

  “Dr. Franklin paid, too.”

  “We don’t even know that.” Her stomach growled and she pressed a hand to it. “Would you really consider me a horrible person if I wanted to get something to eat? It doesn’t have to be five-star or anything.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her thigh a little higher, which caused a slow flush to fan out across her skin. “I channeled Sean there for a minute. He’s great at guilting people, too. I’m sorry about Cookie, but I’m also starving.”

  She slumped in her seat. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. Literally, I could eat anything.”

  “Tacos from a hole-in-the-wall stand?”

  “Lead the way.”

  He revved up the car again and peeled away from the curb.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the crowded parking lot of a taco stand in South San Francisco. The lines at the windows curled around the parking lot.

  “Looks like we’re not the only ones
who need a quick fix.” She reached into the backseat for her jacket as Ryan pulled his car around the back of the building and parked it on some dirt.

  They shuffled to the back of the line, and Kacie plucked Cookie’s phone from her purse. “Are we going to try calling the number from the open-house texts?”

  “Yeah, just not from our phones or the hotel.”

  “I guess we can try to find a pay phone.”

  “There are still a few of those left.” He nudged her to keep up with the line. “Let’s eat first and call later.”

  They each ordered a couple of tacos and Ryan added a burrito to his order. He paid in cash, and then they stood to the side of the window, waiting for their number to be called.

  He tugged on the ends of her hair. “Grab that table over there, and I’ll wait for our order.”

  She threaded her way through the lines at the windows and scooted onto a picnic bench next to a family of four.

  Ryan had accepted her apology and had even called her forthright. She rubbed her twitching eye. She had to tell him the truth. He’d be angry at first, but then he’d appreciate her honesty. Wouldn’t he?

  There was no reason to keep the truth from him anymore. The book she’d planned to write had taken a detour. The same thing had happened with the Walker book. When would she learn about preconceived notions?

  Of course, if she never revealed the truth to Ryan, he’d never know that she’d come into this project with an agenda. But if they ever ended up together, she’d have to tell him. She couldn’t keep such a big secret from him.

  She glanced up and spotted him carrying a box of food overflowing with chips. Could they really end up together? Did they have a chance?

  He placed the box on the table. “I asked for extra chips and salsa, but I think they went overboard.”

  She dipped a chip into the salsa and held it up. “You can never have too much chips and salsa.”

  “Watch it. That stuff’s hot.” He straddled the bench across from her.

  She bit into the chip with a crunch and the salsa dribbled down her chin. Before she had a chance to grab a napkin from the dispenser, he dabbed her chin with his thumb. “You’re supposed to eat it, not wear it.”

  She chewed and swallowed, the salsa burning the roof of her mouth. “Thanks for that bit of advice.”

  They both dug into their food, and cheap tacos on the street had never tasted so good. For the duration of the meal, she forgot about Cookie and Daniel Walker and even Joseph Brody. For the duration of the meal, they were two people with an undeniable attraction for each other out on a simple date.

  But the meal ended.

  “I think I saw a pay phone across the street at the gas station.” He crumpled the wrapper from his last taco and tossed it into the box. “You game?”

  “Absolutely.” She patted her face with a napkin. “No more salsa on my face?”

  He wedged a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back. “Your face looks perfect.”

  Oh no, she wasn’t ready to give up any part of that.

  They relinquished their coveted seats to another couple hovering nearby and shoved their trash into the garbage can.

  The light changed and they dashed across the street to the service station. Ryan grabbed her hand and tugged. “I think it’s on the side of the mini-mart. I saw it when we were driving up the street.”

  They turned the corner of the squat building that housed a small convenience store. A light glowed over the pay phone.

  Ryan picked up the receiver.

  “Does it work?”

  “We’ll soon see.” He dropped a coin in the slot and snapped his fingers for the number on Cookie’s phone.

  Kacie brought up the text and read the number aloud to him.

  He punched it in and listened, while she pinched his shirtsleeve. “Well?”

  He slammed the phone back in the cradle. “No answer and no voice mail.”

  “That in itself tells me something.” She shoved Cookie’s phone back in her purse. “Who doesn’t have some kind of message on their phone, especially if you’re using that phone to look for a house?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he only responds to texts.”

  “Well, he didn’t respond to our text, either.”

  “I didn’t expect much, Kacie. I’m still going to try to trace the blocked phone calls. I can call the station tonight and get one of my guys on it.” He rubbed a circle on her back and it almost soothed away her disappointment.

  She combed her fingers through her hair and clasped it into a ponytail. “I suppose if someone had answered the phone and confirmed he or she was a valid house hunter, it would’ve been a dead end. This at least leaves us an opening.”

  They jogged back across the street and squeezed between the cars in the parking lot to get to Ryan’s SUV in the dirt.

  “At least we didn’t get towed.”

  “No ticket?” She peeked at the windshield. “Looks like you got away with your illegal parking job, Brody. Did you put some kind of cop vibe around the car?”

  “Yeah, it’s a secret shield.”

  He opened the door for her and she slid onto the seat, closing her eyes.

  The car jostled as Ryan climbed into the driver’s side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “It’s been a long day. Not what I expected. Can we call the hospital and check on Cookie?”

  “Sure.” He pulled out his own phone and called information for San Francisco General. The operator must’ve automatically connected him because he began speaking.

  “I’m calling to find out about a patient who was brought in earlier by ambulance, Cynthia Phelps.” He tapped her knee and shook his head. “This is Chief Ryan Brody from Crestview. I’m the one who found her. You can check with the SFPD.”

  He recited his phone number and dropped the phone in his cup holder. “They wouldn’t give me any info, but she’s going to check with the P.D. and call me back if they give the go-ahead.”

  “Sheesh, you can’t even check on anyone’s welfare anymore without a full-scale investigation?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get the news one way or another.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot, his tires stirring up dirt and rocks on the way out. He merged onto the freeway back to the city and their hotel.

  The hypnotic headlights and her full tummy had Kacie’s eyelids drooping. If she hoped for a repeat of the night before, she’d better get a boost of adrenaline from somewhere.

  Maybe just getting a glimpse of Ryan’s hard body would be enough to jump-start her libido.

  The car bounced as Ryan left the freeway and turned onto the Embarcadero. He made another turn and the tires squealed as Kacie’s head bumped the window.

  “Hey!” Her eyelids flew open. “What do you think this is, the Indy 500?”

  Ryan clutched the steering wheel. “This car isn’t behaving too well.”

  “Maybe if you’d spring for a newer model, Brody.”

  The traffic light ahead glowed yellow and the car lurched and then flew through the intersection as the light turned to red.

  She gripped the edge of her seat. “Wow, Brody, just because you’re a cop doesn’t mean you can get away with murder in this city.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth. Bad choice of words. But before she had time to apologize, the car sailed through another intersection, narrowly missing two pedestrians.

  “Brody! What the hell are you doing?”

  “It’s the brakes.” He hunched forward over the steering wheel. “We don’t have any.”

  Chapter Eleven

  He stomped on the brake pedal again, but the car surged forward. Aiming for the side of the road, he reached for the emergency brake. He yanked it up and the car lurched and growled.

  It didn’t stop, but it did slow down.

  Kacie gasped beside him. “Is it going to stop?”

  “Not without a fight.” He pumped the brake, and his foot hit the floor
.

  He rushed up on a car stopped at a crosswalk. He careened around it, blowing by the shocked faces of the pedestrians startled to a halt in the street.

  He couldn’t keep this up. The closer they got to the busy end of the wharf, the less space he’d have to maneuver in. He needed something to slow him down, some obstacle in his path.

  “Make sure your seat belt’s snug.”

  Kacie tugged on her belt. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hang on.”

  The curb, a couple of benches...and barriers. His tires bumped the curb, and he aimed the car between two groups of people. His vehicle jumped when he hit the curb and plowed toward the first bench.

  Kacie yelled something unintelligible.

  They ripped through the bench to the sound of screaming metal. The car limped forward.

  His body tensed as he made a beeline for the orange barriers stationed along the walkway. The car smacked the barrier, and the air bags exploded.

  He grunted as the bag hit his chest. Kacie gave a muffled cry.

  The car lurched back, finally at rest.

  Ryan struggled out of the smashed car and ran to the passenger side. He didn’t like the look of the black smoke curling up from the collapsed hood. He yanked open Kacie’s door and helped her from her position pinned between the air bag and the seat of the car.

  They both staggered away from the wreckage as alternating sirens filled the air.

  “Are you hurt?” He turned Kacie to face him and touched the abrasion on her cheek.

  She held her hands in front of her. “I think I’m okay. You?”

  “Tossed around, but nothing broken.”

  “You have some glass in your hair. Close your eyes.” She flicked his hair with her fingers.

  “Don’t cut yourself.”

  She grabbed his T-shirt. “What just happened, Ryan?”

  “Someone tampered with my brakes.”

  Her eyes widened, and then the EMTs and the cops descended.

  The men in white checked his vitals and bandaged a small cut on his hand. The police weren’t as solicitous. They’d gotten a few calls about his reckless driving before the crash and weren’t altogether convinced he wasn’t drunk or crazy.