The Bridge - Carol Ericson Mills & Boon Intrigue

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have no idea. He was kind of stooped over when I joined him at the car. He could’ve been short, but I think he was probably medium height because he was bent over. I think he only straightened up when he was behind me.”

      “And was he a thin guy? Big?”

      “Seemed heavyset, but he was wearing a jacket so it was hard to tell.”

      “Other clothing?”

      “Jeans, dark shirt, that bulky gray jacket.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait. He was wearing a jacket with elastic at the sleeves and had both sleeves pushed up. That’s how I saw the cast. And on the other arm, the one not in the cast, he had a tattoo.”

      “Perfect. What was it?”

      “It was a bird, a bird with wings spread open.”

      The detective lifted his gaze from his notepad and drilled her with his dark eyes.

      A chill zigzagged down her spine. Had she hit on something? He must know this killer. This had happened before.

      He unbuttoned the left cuff of his pressed white shirt and pushed it up. “Do you know what kind of bird it was?”

      “No—dark colors. It was hard to see. I just noticed the bird’s wings.”

      Then he extended his forearm toward her. “Was it like this?”

      A tattoo of a dark blue bird spreading his wings, his claws rising from a flame, decorated the detective’s forearm.

      Elise clapped a hand over her mouth and jerked back against the bed. “Exactly like that.”

      Chapter Two

      The tattoo on Sean’s arm tingled and burned. Some killer had the same tattoo? And why this killer? The M.O. of someone luring women to his car by feigning an injury and then hitting them on the head was all too familiar to him.

      Familiar and painful.

      Now he’d gone and scared the color out of the victim—Elise, who was shrinking against her pillow, her face as white as the sheets. He’d already startled her when he jumped from his chair, knocking it over. No need for both of them to be freaking out right now.

      Sean scooped in a breath and shook down his sleeve. “Similar to that, huh?”

      “Similar? Exactly the same.”

      Her blue eyes took up half her face, and she eyed him like a trapped animal.

      He should’ve never shown her his tattoo. He’d completely misplaced his professional demeanor during this interview. A bird with spread wings—lots of tattoos like that out there.

      “I doubt it’s exactly the same, Ms. Duran.”

      “Elise.”

      “Elise.” At least she still wanted him to use her first name. “You said it was dark. A bird is a bird.”

      She chewed her lip and then relaxed her shoulders. “Can I see it again?”

      He hadn’t buttoned his cuff, so he shoved the sleeve up his arm again and rotated his forearm.

      She leaned forward and her blond hair tickled the inside of his elbow. She smelled salty—not at all what he expected from this blue-eyed blonde with the peaches-and-cream skin.

      She wrinkled her nose. “I guess it could’ve been different. He had a bird tattoo. You have a bird tattoo.”

      He smoothed down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. “I’m glad we got that out of the way. I wanted to show you mine to see if it would prompt any more detail.”

      Actually, he hadn’t been thinking at all. What did it matter if he and a killer both had a tattoo of a bird on their arms? Unless someone was trying to pin something on him.

      Just as someone pinned something on Dad.

      “I...I really didn’t mean to imply that I thought it was you out there.” She twisted her damp hair into a rope over her shoulder. “The similarity just startled me. You have to admit it’s a coincidence.”

      Despite the warmth of the space, he slid into his jacket. “Yeah, a coincidence. A lot of people have tattoos today, but that detail might make it easier to find this guy.”

      “I hope so. I’m not his first, am I?”

      “I can’t say for sure, Elise.” He tucked his notepad into his jacket pocket. “Is the hospital releasing you soon?”

      “The nurse is coming back to check my temperature. If it’s at a safe level, I’m free to go.”

      “It’s almost morning. How are you getting home?”

      “Taxi.” She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “My purse. It must’ve fallen on the ground outside the club.”

      “Or he took it.”

      She widened her baby blues, which seemed to get even bluer. “My license is in there, my phone, my credit card.”

      He has her address and her contacts and God knows what else.

      “If he tries to use the card, we can track him.”

      “He knows my address now. I got away. I can give a description of him.” Her hands clawed at the sheets.

      He resisted the urge to take one of those small fists in his hand. “Maybe he left the purse at the scene. We’ll call the club to see if anyone found it. We’re going to canvass outside the club anyway, see if he left any evidence, question the employees.”

      Still clutching the sheets, she said, “I’m sure he has my purse. He called my name wh-when I was hiding from him. I never told him my name.”

      A nurse peeked around the curtain and tiptoed to the bed in the small space. “Excuse me, Detective. I need to take her temperature.”

      Sean scooted his chair back to give her room, and the nurse leaned over Elise, pinching a thermometer between her fingers and wheeling the machine on the stand closer to the bed.

      “I’m just going to put this under your tongue and we’ll see how you’re doing.” The nurse made a tsking noise. “They could’ve done a better job drying your hair.”

      Elise twirled a damp lock around her finger and shrugged.

      The nurse peered at the thermometer. “You’re good to go. How do you feel? How’s the head?”

      “I’m warm, I’m dry and my head hasn’t hurt since the last ibuprofen I took.”

      “Then I’ll bring your clothes and have the doctor sign your release. I’m sorry we have to kick you out of the emergency room. You should see your own doctor as soon as possible for a once-over.”

      “I will, thanks.”

      When the nurse left, Elise clasped her hands in her lap, looking...lost.

      Sean cleared his throat. “Since you don’t have your purse, can I give you a lift home? Unless you want to call a friend.”

      Or a boyfriend? Husband? Surely this woman had someone in her life, someone to keep her safe.

      “I’ll take the ride, if you don’t mind. My best friend is the one I went to the club with. I doubt she’s going to be up at this time of the morning. I doubt she’s going to be home.”

      “I’m assuming you lost your keys, too. How are you going to get into your place?”

      “I hide a set outside.”

      “Not a great idea.” He started to shake a finger at her, and then snatched it back. She didn’t need one of his lectures on safety.

      Color rushed into her pale cheeks as she dropped her gaze to her folded hands. “I guess it wasn’t a great idea to approach this guy at two in the morning

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