CHAPTER ONE
Dr. Alison Payne sat across from Special Agent Derek Sullivan at the quiet Oakland restaurant. The small eatery was half full, murmurs of conversation lilting across the room and the occasional clink of china.
They hadn’t met solely for business or pleasure. This was both.
Derek leaned in and showed the bruise above his right eye.
Alison winced at the sight of it. "I can't believe you got punched in the face. How does it feel?"
"I’ve had worse," Derek admitted. The kink in his once-broken nose was a testament to that. Derek got the job done without violence most of the time, but he could put up more than a good fight when it came down to it.
"So, he just swung for you?" Alison asked.
"Yeah. We went in there to raid the place, and he was hiding in a cupboard in one of the office hallways.
" Derek took a swig of beer and sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"I knocked. I had a sense someone was in there, you know?
I waited, had my gun out, and then opened the door.
He lunged at me, and he was a scrawny guy, but I didn't expect him to come flying out of the cupboard. "
Alison shook her head as she listened to the story.
"I couldn’t shoot him," Derek continued.
"He just kind of lunged at me, even though I had a gun, and we went sprawling. He’s lucky that I held my finger.
It would have been within my rights to take a shot as he burst out the closest to me.
Anyway, he slams into me, we both go down, and he swung and hit. "
Alison touched her own forehead, almost feeling his pain.
"You should have seen the way he looked at me after he punched me. I almost laughed. I think he was more surprised than I was. He almost freaked out after that, but I had him in cuffs shortly after."
"Who knew white collar crimes could be so dangerous?" Alison asked.
Derek smiled and took another swig of beer. "Thankfully, I still have my good looks."
"Were you worried about losing your modeling contract?"
Derek laughed as he pushed some peas around on his plate. "The fans want to see this face without any blemishes."
"I think that ship has sailed." Alison looked down at her plate before looking back at him. "I mean…that sounded a little harsh. You’re a handsome man."
"And I’ve gained one more fan." Derek squished the peas and scooped them with his fork.
Derek had a partially bruised eye, which would disappear over time, but the kink in his nose was there to stay.
He was a handsome man, even if he didn't play into that.
He liked to have a layer of stubble, giving him a grizzled look that matched his personality perfectly.
He usually wore a semi-crumpled suit when working, helping people to understand him (or, that was the goal, at least), but he had cleaned up a little for dinner.
Gone was the crumpled suit he usually wore when working; in its place was a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Stubble still adorned his sharp jawline. Derek had dark hair and dark eyes that drew you in.
"Will you excuse me for a second?" Alison said.
Derek rose from his chair when Alison did, sitting back down when she left the table.
Alison walked towards the back of the restaurant and to the bathroom.
She went to the sink and ran the water for a while, holding her hands under the flowing water before drying them. She studied herself in the mirror.
She had piercing green eyes that flashed with intelligence. That intelligence was backed by her job as a forensic psychologist in the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. Her eyebrows were feathered thinly, and her long, black hair was tied up into a ponytail.
What am I doing here?
That was the question that had been rattling around in her mind long before they had met for dinner. It had been there for weeks, months. She asked herself the question again as she stared at herself in the mirror.
She’d met Derek when consulting with the FBI on cases.
That encounter had developed into a working relationship, and they had solved numerous cases together, taking down dangerous serial killers and removing them from the streets.
That working relationship had developed into something more.
They had a great friendship, but there was more to it than that.
Alison didn't know what the dinner meant, and she didn't know what she wanted it to mean. If her past was simpler, her present could be simple, too, but it was far from straightforward.
Alison’s sister Emma was murdered over twenty years ago, and the case was still unsolved.
The murder had driven her career choice, and it still guided her.
She needed to know what had happened to her sister, who had killed her, and bring that person to justice—if the killer were still around or alive.
More recently, they had discovered something new: a footprint left at the scene.
Or a possible footprint. One of the original detectives, now old and in a care home, had spotted a large footprint at the scene, but it had washed away in the rain before forensics could capture it.
All they had to go on was a sketch by the detective, leading them to investigate any construction sites in the area at the time as a last-ditch attempt at finding someone who might know something.
That footprint had eventually led them to Morris Bridges, a man who had been hired around the time Emma was murdered, but fired from the job soon after for harassing young women.
He had a history of assaulting female joggers.
Emma was a swimmer, but she ran, too, and there was a chance she was running home that night, crossing the field alone when she was attacked and posed in her swimming gear.
Morris was all they had. Finding him might mean more information in the old case, or it might lead them to a dead end. That was what Alison was afraid of. They had looked for a needle in a haystack and come up with something shiny. It could be a needle or a hundred other different objects.
Alison washed her hands again and dabbed some water on her face. She took one more look in the mirror.
I’ve thought so long about the past that I’ve not given enough consideration to the present.
She wanted more with Derek, and perhaps it was time to think about what might make her happy now, instead of how to solve a cold case over two decades old.
Alison left the bathroom and headed back to her table. Derek got up once again, sitting when she did.
"Are you thinking about dessert?" he asked.
Alison looked across the table at the man who had been by her side for more than most. She was thinking about a relationship with him, but it wouldn’t be fair to dive into that when she couldn’t give him her full attention.
"Yeah, dessert sounds good," she said. "Anything with chocolate."
"I hear you," Derek said. "I’ll grab the server when she goes past next."
"You might get punched again if you grab her," Alison pointed out.
"Ha. Ha," Derek said slowly.
Alison smiled, but the smile quickly dropped from her lips. "It’s like he’s disappeared from the face of the earth."
"Morris Bridges?" Derek asked.
"Yeah." Alison took a sip of water. "We’ve looked at two dozen Morris Bridges who were close to Oakland in the early two thousands, but none seem to match what we are looking for. If this guy has a record, he should be easy to find, right?"
Derek raised his finger for the server. "He should be."
When she came over, they both chose chocolate cake with whipped cream and some coffee on the side.
"But he’s not," Alison pointed out. "Twenty years of nothing, and the first lead we have is to a man who’s disappeared off the face of the earth. Does that feel weird to you?"
"It’s either suspicious or really bad luck.
We only have the word of an old man with a failing memory who hired Morris to work construction and then subsequently fired him based on rumors of crimes, and the failing memory of an old detective who saw a boot print that no one else did.
Maybe that explains it; maybe someone made a mistake with a file in the last twenty years; or maybe there’s no lead. "
That was what Alison was most afraid of. She wanted it to be a lead so she would feel she was doing something instead of sitting around and twiddling her thumbs, hoping that the case would solve itself.
Derek reached across the table and took Alison’s hand, startling her.
Her breath caught for a second. It felt intimate, even though he only did it to try to comfort her.
She enjoyed the way he held her hand and the warmth coming from him.
It would be so easy to fall into his arms and gain comfort at a time when she needed it the most, but she needed to keep her focus.
"We’ll find him," Derek said. "These things can take a long time at the best of times, but this case has been cold for over twenty years. I know you won't stop fighting, and neither will I."
"I know," she said. "I appreciate you for that."
Derek’s phone interrupted the tender moment. The ringer had been turned off, but the vibrations in his pocket were loud enough to hear.
He looked at her and grimaced, and she nodded. They both never stopped working.
"Hello?" he answered quietly, cognizant of the other guests in the restaurant. "Yeah, speaking…Um, yeah, she’s here…I’ll pass you over." He handed Alison the phone. "It’s for you."
"For me?" she asked, taking the phone. "Hello?"
"Dr. Payne, this is Special Agent Claire Martinez over in Montana. Your name was mentioned to me, and honestly, all the help we can get on this case to close it quickly."
"What’s the case?" Alison asked.
"A forensic psychologist," Claire said. "She was found murdered.
She consulted on a case a few years ago, and we think her killer is using the same M.O.
as the killer from the case she consulted on.
I just figured that with this being a weird one, and the victim being a forensic psychologist, you might be the best person to consult. Bring in the big guns, you know?"
Alison held the phone to her ear and thought about it. She looked across the table at Derek. He held her gaze as he considered it, too.
"Go," he told her. "I’ll stay here and look into Morris Bridges. Go take care of business there, and I’ll take care of business here."
"Special Agent Martinez?" Alison said. "If you can organize a ticket for me, I can be on a plane tonight.