Free The Wharf by Carol Ericson Page B

from the bridge?”
    “About two or three times a month. And more attempts from people crying out for help.”
    “Like today. I don’t think she was really going to jump. Do you?”
    “I have no idea. I’d think if you’re going to do it, you just do it, instead of hanging out on the ledge. I saw her slide over, and I thought she was gone, but she was crouched on the ledge.”
    “Exactly—it was a cry for help and you were there.” She pushed back her chair and reached for her purse. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room before we leave.” She thumped her wallet on the table and slipped it open to a row of cards. She selected one and placed it on the table. “Use this for the check.”
    When she disappeared around the corner, he grabbed her card. He could at least pay for one of these meals.
    He flipped open her wallet and it fell open to a plastic insert of pictures. A pretty young woman with coppery hair smiled at him from the plastic sheath.
    He hunched over and studied the picture. The woman, with her voluptuous figure and full lips, resembled Kacie a lot more than the Nordic-looking family on her laptop.
    A hand reached over his shoulder and smacked down on the wallet.
    “What are you doing?”
    He glanced up to meet Kacie’s flashing brown eyes, their gold flecks throwing off sparks.
    He held up his hands. “I’m not stealing your cash. Just the opposite. I was putting your card away. This lunch is on me for a change.”
    Her nostrils flared as she swept the wallet from the table and dropped it into her purse. “I told you. These meals are tax write-offs.”
    “Who’s the woman in the picture? The one in the green dress?” He handed his credit card to the waiter.
    “She’s, uh, my grandmother when she was a young woman.”
    “I thought so.”
    Her eyebrows jumped. “You did?”
    “I mean, not your grandmother, but I figured she was a relative. You look like her.”
    “She was my father’s mother. She died young.”
    “Pretty lady.”
    “Thank you.” She gulped the rest of her water and smiled brightly. “Ready to head to the station?”
    Thirty minutes later, Ryan led the way into the hubbub of the big-city squad room. His brother had tried to lure him there a few times with job offers, but Ryan had preferred the peace and quiet of Crestview.
    He stopped by Lieutenant Healy’s office first. They shook hands and he introduced him to Kacie.
    Healy’s eyes lit up, but Ryan couldn’t tell if it was from the way Kacie filled out her jeans or because he recognized the name.
    “Kacie Manning—I enjoyed your book. Loved how you nailed that SOB Walker to the wall.”
    Okay, so maybe Ryan was the only one with impure thoughts about Kacie.
    Kacie and the lieutenant shook hands. “I’m glad you appreciated that. Walker sure didn’t.”
    “I got the lowdown from Curtis on that parolee’s murder. We contacted the warden at Walla Walla. We’ll let him handle Walker, but we still need to find out who did his dirty work.”
    “I hope you do because I think he’s the same one who sent me a doll at Walker’s bidding.”
    Healy puffed up his chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll nail him. You have other fish to fry right now, don’t you?”
    Ryan jabbed a finger at his own chest. “Are you calling me a fish?”
    “Yeah, a shark.” Healy wagged his finger at Kacie. “Don’t let him fool you, Ms. Manning. He might come off as the carefree, easygoing brother, but all these Brody boys are harder than granite and just as uncompromising.”
    Ryan narrowed his eyes at Healy. The lieutenant and his brother didn’t get along, and Ryan sensed that his animosity carried over to him.
    “If you could keep me posted on Duke Bannister, I’d appreciate it—professional courtesy.”
    Healy shrugged. “Sure thing. How does your brother feel about this book?”
    “All of my brothers are on board with it. We’d like to get to the bottom of what happened.”
    The lieutenant’s lips spread into a mirthless