The Wharf by Carol Ericson Page A

out and about at that time of the morning?”
    “It’s her presence on the bridge at precisely that time that’s unusual. Chances are she was considering a jump. Why else would she be there? To sightsee? To take pictures in the dark?”
    “So, maybe your father saved one more life before he died. Cookie saw him go over and changed her mind.”
    “She was interviewed?”
    “Of course. She called it in.”
    “I want that file, Marie.”
    “If you can find it, you can check it out. Lieutenant Healy already phoned down with his blanket approval for any file you want.”
    She tapped on her keyboard and jotted down a few numbers on a slip of paper. “Here’s the row and shelf.”
    “Thanks, Marie. Can I check it out or do I have to look at it here?”
    “You can check that one out. It’s just paper—no evidence.” She buzzed the cage open, and Ryan held the door open for Kacie.
    Kacie smiled her thanks at Marie, who had already turned back to her computer.
    When they got to the row in the back of the room, Kacie trailed her hand along the boxes, reading out the numbers. She turned abruptly, almost running into his chest. “She doesn’t like me much, does she?”
    “Didn’t seem like it. Maybe it’s just the claws coming out from one femme fatale to another.” He winked.
    Rolling her eyes, she said, “She knew your father?”
    “She was good friends with my father and mother. After Dad died, Marie would drink with my mom, just to see her home safely.” He located the box and pulled it from the shelf. “She probably just doesn’t like the idea of a book coming out and dredging up painful old memories.”
    He balanced the box on a rolling stool and flipped off the lid. “There’s not too much in here. I’m just going to take the whole box if Marie lets me.”
    “That woman would let you get away with murder.”
    “She’s loyal, but not that loyal.”
    “Figure of speech, Brody.” She replaced the lid and smacked her fist against it.
    Ryan hoisted the box in his arms, and Kacie led the way out of the maze of metal shelves stuffed with cold cases. The files for the Phone Book Killer were there somewhere, and he was sure they’d get to those in due time.
    Marie looked up from her keyboard. “Got what you need?”
    “Right here.” Ryan patted the side of the box. “We’ll return it tomorrow.”
    “Take your time, and send Judd over when he returns to U.S. soil.”
    “Will do.”
    “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Marie.” Kacie waved as she held the door open for Ryan and the box.
    Marie flicked her long fingernails in their general direction.
    “Oh boy.” Kacie pulled the door closed with a click.
    Twenty minutes later, when they reached the elevator of their hotel, Ryan’s finger hovered between two buttons. “Your room or mine?”
    “Let’s stick to my room. It’s closer.”
    Clutching the box to his chest, he waited while Kacie opened her door. She stepped inside the room and wedged her foot against the door to hold it open for him.
    He squeezed past her into the room, and she sucked in a breath. He dropped the box to the floor by the window and pulled out the two bulging file folders. Then he walked to the table and placed them side by side. “Lotta stuff here for one suicide.”
    Kacie joined him at the table and spun one of the folders around to face her. “No wonder. This is for a different case—domestic violence.”
    “Someone misfiled something.” He dropped the extra folder back into the box and thumbed open his father’s case.
    Kacie placed a hand on his forearm. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I can go through it myself.”
    He covered her hand with his. “Do you think I lost it on the bridge?”
    “It upset you, being in that spot, and I don’t blame you.”
    “It was eerie, but don’t you think I’ve been there before? As soon as I was old enough to take the Muni to the bridge, I checked it out.”
    “I can certainly understand that, but if you’d prefer not to