Free The Wharf by Carol Ericson

reached the walkway, tourists, cyclists and photographers joined them, while cars whizzed past on the road.
    Ryan walked beside her, his head turned toward the bay. Did the view bring him pleasure, like it did most of the other pedestrians, or pain?
    He stopped and grasped the low barrier, hunching his shoulders. “This is it.”
    She drew beside him, drinking in the view of Alcatraz and the city skyline floating between the blue of the bay and the blue of the sky. “This is a beautiful stop, but there are so many great views.”
    “No, I mean, this is it.” The wind played with his hair, flattening it against his head as he looked down.
    Then it hit her and her stomach dropped. “This is the exact spot where your father died?”
    “This is where he jumped.”
    This time she did reach out, covering his hand with hers. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have to... You didn’t have to...”
    He cranked his head around and his eyes blazed at her for a second. “You wanted to come here. You wanted to come and see where it all ended. Well, this is it. This is the spot.”
    A muscle twitched in her eye. Was he angry at her for foisting this on him? Ryan seemed like such an easygoing guy, but his hard mouth and harder eyes hinted at depths of rage she hadn’t seen or expected.
    Would this rage bubble over when he found out the truth?
    By then she’d be far away, her lifelong goal reached. She brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “Do you want to leave?”
    His shoulders dropped and he ran a hand through his thick, windblown hair. “No.”
    “His body was never found.”
    “Currents carried him out to sea.”
    “Were there any witnesses?”
    “One.” Turning sideways, he leaned on the barrier. “A woman was taking in the early-morning view. She’d noticed a man quite a distance from her. She watched as he climbed over the barrier and disappeared.”
    “She called the police?”
    “She used one of the phones on the bridge to call the coast guard, but his body never turned up.”
    Kacie shivered despite the sun on her back. “Their station is so close I’m surprised they didn’t find him.”
    “It happens. The current was swift that day. The police found my father’s jacket and wallet on the ground and later they located his car in the parking lot—the same lot where we just parked.”
    “Have you or your brothers ever spoken to this witness?”
    He cocked his head and pressed his back against the barrier, spreading his arms along the top like a tourist posing for the camera. “I never have. If they did, they didn’t tell me about it.”
    “I’d be curious to talk to her, if she’s still alive. Do you know?”
    “I know she was a young woman—early twenties.”
    “Do you remember her name?”
    “I don’t, but it would be in the case file for my father’s suicide, and that’s at the department.”
    “You can get your hands on that, right? You’re the victim’s son and you have connections.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    His gaze shifted away from her face and over her left shoulder. This visit had really affected him.
    She cleared her throat. “I’d like to have a look at that file. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can yield some new insight.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    His eyes narrowed and his body tensed.
    “Do you want to...?”
    He swore and pushed past her.
    As she stumbled, she twisted around just in time to see him lunge over the barrier—another Brody over the bridge.

Chapter Six
    The barrier dug into his rib cage as he balanced on top of it, his hand grasping the straps of the woman’s backpack.
    “Don’t do this.”
    She turned her head to look up at him with blank, red-rimmed eyes.
    Kacie ran up beside him and dug her fingers into his arm. “What are you doing?”
    “Call the cops from the phone. There’s a woman on the ledge.”
    Kacie gasped and spun around.
    The woman below him continued to stare at him, but she’d stopped struggling. She’d dropped to her knees on the steel ledge that ran almost