Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (24 page)

The cat suddenly jumped up and shot out the door.

Carlotta froze, then realized the distant sound of a door

closing, then opening, meant that Peter was home. She

glanced at her watch, shocked that the entire evening had

disappeared.

“Carly?” he called. “Where are you?”

“I’m coming.” She hurriedly shut down the computer and

closed the notebook, then put the flyers on top and stood

up just as he appeared in the doorway. The cat rubbed

against his legs, energized.

Peter smiled. “Using the computer?”

She patted the papers she held. “I made flyers for our

runaway.”

He leaned in and dropped a kiss on her mouth. “Where’s

Hannah?”

“Uh…she had other plans.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been alone al evening.”

“Oh, no, it was fine, really. Other than the hair ball.”

“Hair bal ?”

She gave a dismissive wave. “Never mind. Did you get

everything done at the office?”

Peter’s expression changed and he nodded toward the

great room. “Carly, can we talk?”

Her stomach clenched. “Sure…what’s going on?”

He clasped her hand and led her into the den, then pul ed

her down to sit next to him on the couch.

“Does this have something to do with my father?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. When the GBI agent

interviewed me yesterday about Randolph, something

stuck in my mind.”

“What?”

“When we were dating, your father took me to work with

him one day. Do you remember that?”

She squinted. “Vaguely.”

“It was my senior year. He knew I wanted to be a broker,

and he was nice enough to give me a glimpse of what it

was like.”

“Okay. Where is this going?”

Peter pressed his lips together. “When I was in his office, a

woman came in who delivered mail for several companies

in the building. I remember her because she was really

pretty and she had a great figure…”

“And?”

“And she seemed…familiar with your father.”

“In what way?”

He looked uncomfortable.

“Oh.” She flushed with shame.

“Anyway, the circumstances were awkward enough that I

remembered her first name. I stayed late tonight to go

back through old security records to confirm my

suspicions. Her name was Alicia. Alicia Sil s.”

Her burning cheeks cooled as the blood drained from her

face. Alicia Sil s—The Charmed Kil er’s second victim. And

apparently, one of her father’s old flings.

20

“You’re awful quiet, little man.”

Wesley winced against the pain pulsating between his

ears. “Headache.”

Mouse gave a little laugh. “Why don’t you just pop one of

those little pil s of yours?”

“Why don’t you be quiet for two minutes?” Wesley

barked. Then he exhaled and held up his hand. “Sorry,

man. That was out of line.”

“I don’t mind the attitude when it brings in the kind of

cash you col ected today.”

Wesley turned to look out the window. Today was the first

day he’d hit something with the baseball bat other than

appliances. It had felt good at the time to work out some

of the frustration that had him on edge. Meg had barely

spoken to him this morning, but she’d smirked at his

shaking hand when he’d handed her a highlighter. He

gritted his teeth. She was so self-righteous. He wanted so

bad to prove her wrong, that he could kick the Oxy

anytime. His body screamed for a hit right now, but he was

trying to resist…and the baseball bat was helping.

“It’s gotta be a woman,” Mouse said.

Wesley started to protest, then caught sight of the black

SUV in his side mirror. “Do me a favor, man. Pul over to

the curb before you get to the light.”

“What’s up?”

“Just do it.”

Mouse did what he asked. Wesley waited until the black

SUV passed, then tried to get a look at the license plate. It

was covered with mud. Which meant that this was the

same fucker who’d been tailing him for weeks.

“Cover me,” Wes said. Then he pul ed the basebal bat out

of the backseat and jumped out of the passenger-side

door. Adrenaline pumped through him as he strode up to

the SUV, now stopped at a red light. He swung fast and

hard, bashing in the driver’s side window. Glass showered

him, but the driver got the worst of it.

The stocky man on the inside was holding his hands over

his head. “What the fuck, man?”

Wesley pushed the bat against the man’s throat. “What

the fuck is right. What the fuck are you doing fol owing

me?”

“Whoa, whoa. No harm, no foul.”

Wesley swung the bat again and bashed in the windshield.

“Hey! Not my windshield!” the man yel ed.

“Start talking, dude.”

Horns were starting to sound from cars backed up behind

the SUV.

“We’ve met before,” the man said. “I’m a private

investigator—Gregory Young. I worked on the Kiki Deerling

case.”

“That case is over. Why are you fol owing me?”

“Someone hired me to…watch you.”

Wesley frowned. “Who?”

The man’s mouth turned down.

Wesley swung again and took out the rest of the

windshield.

“Okay, okay! Jesus. The guy’s name is Harold Vincent.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s all I know. Dude’s a doctor. He asked me to find

out where you go, what you do, who you hang out with.”

Vincent…Meg’s last name was Vincent…and her father was

a doctor.

“You must’ve done something to piss the guy off,” Young

offered.

His mind raced. Why would Meg’s dad have him fol owed?

Unless…he thought his little princess was interested in

Wesley?

Wes didn’t have time to revel in the moment because

sirens sounded in the distance. He looked at Young. “You

know what kind of people I hang out with, so if you know

what’s good for you, you won’t report this—to the police

or to Vincent.”

Young lifted his hands. “You got it.”

Wesley sprinted back to the Town Car and jumped in.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Mouse didn’t ask questions. He drove the Town Car up on

the sidewalk to bypass traffic and made a right down a

side street. It was only after they were several blocks away

that Mouse said, “What the hel was that all about?”

“I don’t know,” Wesley said. “But I’m going to find out.”

21

Carlotta was numb. Oh, she was conscious of the air

hitting her face as she steered the Vespa up a hil , but she

didn’t feel it. Because if she felt the real y good sensations

so acutely, she’d have to feel the really bad sensations just

as acutely. And she didn’t want to go there.

She was stil reeling over the fact that her father had not

only known Alicia Sil s, but he’d probably had a fling with

her, if Peter’s long-term memory could be trusted. And she

certainly trusted a high-school senior boy to sense when

sex was in the air.

Peter had said it was her decision whether or not he

reported what he remembered to the GBI. On the one

hand, it could be a harmless coincidence. On the other

hand…

It was a good thing she had the day off because she’d

gotten next to no sleep. In addition to tossing and turning

over yet one more dilemma her father had managed to

implicate her in, the cat who hated her also insisted on

sleeping with her.

On her head, on her stomach, on her feet.

She stifled a yawn and stopped the scooter. After lowering

the kickstand, she removed the stapler and one of the

remaining flyers from the storage compartment. She

walked over to a tree next to the sidewalk to attach the

Found Cat ad. When she got back to the scooter, her

phone was ringing. She checked it to see if it might be

someone calling already about the cat, please dear God.

But instead, it was Jack.

She closed her eyes briefly, then hit the silence button and

restowed the phone. She’d avoided his call last night

because she hadn’t been in the mood to be flirted to

sleep…Not while she’d debated whether or not to rat out

her ratty father.

Within another twenty minutes, she’d posted all but one

of the flyers. The last one she’d saved for the community

center so she could eat a late lunch at the café inside. She

parked her scooter outside the sprawling white building

that served as the hub of the neighborhood—an enormous

community pool, loads of tennis courts, meeting facilities

and a day care. It was busy on a Friday summer day, with

the kids out of school and moms getting an early start on

the weekend. She felt like an outsider, but the activity

made her feel safe. It was a welcome distraction from her

own thoughts.

She walked inside and found a public bul etin board. There

were no ads for lost cats, so she posted the last flyer and

crossed her fingers. She went to the café and found a seat

at a table with partial shade that overlooked the pool, and

ordered a chicken-salad sandwich with fries. She saw Sissy

Talmadge, Peter’s nearest neighbor, having lunch with

someone. Carlotta waved, but when Sissy’s companion

turned around and Carlotta saw it was Bebe Plank, her

hand froze midflutter.

Bebe turned back and the women were instantly involved

again in deep conversation over their martinis—no doubt

about her. Carlotta dropped her hand. She was starting to

regret her decision to infiltrate the upper ranks. She

wondered if Tracey could have her banned from the

community center, too.

Her food was delivered quickly and while she ate, she

enjoyed the summer scene that was worlds away from the

ugliness of The Charmed Kil er. From the pool, screams of

children’s laughter rode the air. In the distance, sprinklers

fanned back and forth over green, green lawns. The air

was thick with the smell of fresh-cut grass.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her. This was how she’d

spent her childhood. A happy cocoon of summer camp,

tennis practice and endless birthday parties. If she married

Peter, this was how their children would grow up. Carefree

summers…private school…the best of everything.

The thought had slipped into her head, catching her

unawares. Did Peter even want children? Did she?

“A penny for your thoughts.”

She looked up just as Jack settled into the empty seat

across from her. In his dark suit and tie, he stuck out like a

sore thumb. And he had the eye of every female in the

vicinity.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked with a frown.

He snagged a fry from her plate. “I fol owed the trail of

flyers, and I saw your Pinkie Tuscadero scooter parked out

front.”

“You just happened to be in the area, Jack, or do you live

around here?”

“Neither. Is your phone dead?”

“Yes.”

He pul ed out his cel and punched in a number. When her

phone started ringing inside her bag, he snapped his shut.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

She rol ed her eyes. “So I’m not answering my phone.”

He chewed the fry, then snagged another one. “I was

worried. When you didn’t answer last night, I thought you

might have been kidnapped.”

“By Peter?”

“It’s called the Stockholm syndrome, where you become

brainwashed by your captor.”

She leaned forward. “Jack, if you’re jealous, just say so.”

“Of Ashford? Please. The guy is rich and works in a nice air-

conditioned office all day while I grub around in a cubicle

and get shot at. What’s to be jealous of?”

“Me?” she asked, angling her head.

He looked under the table and frowned at her shorts. “I

thought you’d at least be wearing a bikini.”

She sighed. “Sorry to disappoint you. I came for lunch. Do

you want something?”

He gestured to the half of the sandwich she hadn’t eaten.

“Are you through? If so, I’l just finish this.”

“Knock yourself out. Any updates on Michael?”

He flagged the waiter and asked for a soda, then tore into

the sandwich. “The sighting in Athens was bogus. We’re

back to square one. Can you think of anyplace he might

be, or what he might be doing?”

“With ten thousand dol ars, he’s probably shopping,” she

said wryly. “Michael had an affinity for things he couldn’t

afford…which probably explains why he started stealing

people’s identities to begin with.”

“It’s something,” he said. “I’l have uniforms recirculate

Lane’s photo to all the shop owners at Lenox Square and

Phipps Plaza.”

“Did you hear I failed the polygraph?”

He nodded and grinned. “So you thought about me during

the test, huh?”

“No.” She tossed her napkin at him. “Maria wouldn’t tel

me which questions I failed.”

He frowned. “Let’s just say you weren’t forthcoming about

the men in your life.”

Meaning Jack and Randolph. She shifted in her seat. “Does

this mean the state guys are going to bring me back in for

questioning?”

“I don’t know. Nobody wil tel me anything.”

“Not even Marquez?”

“Not even her.”

She pressed her lips together. “Jack, I’m sorry if they took