Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (33 page)

“What are you wearing?”

She rol ed her eyes, then decided to turn the tables. “I’m

completely naked.”

He grunted. “And you’re by yourself? Are you sure Ashford

isn’t gay?”

“I’m sure,” she said with a sigh. “And how do you know I’m

alone?”

“Because you wouldn’t have answered the phone if you

were with Ashford. Speaking of which, you didn’t answer

last night when I called.”

“That’s right, I didn’t,” she said, al owing him to think what

he wanted.

“Come on, admit it. When you close your eyes, you think

about me,” he murmured.

“Did you call for a reason, Jack, or were you just bored?”

“Both. We got a hit on the cologne.”

“With Michael?”

“Yeah. There’s a Clive Christian boutique in Roswel . An

employee says he remembers a man of Lane’s description

buying a bottle of cologne three days ago and paying for it

with cash.”

“What about surveil ance cameras?”

“Struck out.”

“But stil , it sounds like Michael.”

“Yeah, but knowing where he’s been doesn’t help us

much. I need to know where he is right now, where he’s

going to be tomorrow.” His voice vibrated with frustration.

“Any developments in The Charmed Kil er case?”

“I only know what I read in the papers,” he said.

“Since I failed the polygraph, I keep waiting to be pul ed

back in for questioning again.”

He made a noise in his throat. “They might have you under

surveil ance instead. Which is fine by me,” he added.

“Especially since Lane could be fol owing you.”

“The security guard has been keeping a close eye on me at

the store.”

“Also good.”

“They’re not sharing any information with you about the

case?”

“Nope. The state guys have been tight with Marquez, but I

don’t know if that’s because of her profiling or because

of…everything else.”

Carlotta frowned. “Thanks for the update.”

“Listen—” he lowered his voice “—I’m stuck at my desk,

but since you’re naked, I can talk you through it, if you

want.”

“Good night, Jack.”

“Good night.”

29

Carlotta got up early, but Peter had already left for work.

There was no note on the kitchen counter this time and

the house seemed huge and empty and alien. The Persian

strutted around, meowing stridently, as if to tell Carlotta

that it was time for her to go home.

“Ungrateful puss,” she muttered, but checked the cat’s

food and water before she left the house.

In the garage, she stopped. Now when she looked at the

pink scooter, she was sad…and uncomfortable. Maybe she

and Peter could talk things through tonight. She

understood how embarrassed he might be, but they had

to find a way to deal with their sexual impasse.

Or not.

With a start, she wondered if perhaps his condition wasn’t

a recent development. Could it have been an issue when

he was married to Angela? Had it attributed to the couple

growing apart, and Angela finding sexual fulfil ment

elsewhere?

As Carlotta drove out of the garage, she pushed aside

thoughts of her and Peter’s aborted lovemaking and

turned her mind to her more immediate problem: facing

Coop. Their last encounter hadn’t gone so wel . She

wondered idly if he was seeing the blonde who’d been

wrapped around him that night at Moody’s, or if the

woman had been a one-night stand. Coop had seemed

bel igerent toward her, flaunting the other woman and the

fact that he was drinking again.

She pul ed in to the parking lot of the county morgue and

took a deep breath. She didn’t like the idea of admitting to

Coop that Wesley might be using drugs, but she needed

help. And besides, the news just might be jarring enough

to make Coop face his own lapse…or open up to her.

After removing her purse from the storage compartment

and stowing the helmet, she entered the morgue through

the front door and asked for Coop at the front desk. She

was given a visitor’s pass and directions to the lab. On the

way down the hall, she passed Dr. Bruce Abrams, the chief

M.E. He had his head down, deep in thought, and seemed

startled when she said hel o.

“Hi, Carlotta. Did you come to see Cooper?”

“Yes,” she said. “To say hel o and to ask him about…what

you mentioned at the Col ins crime scene last week.”

When Abrams had expressed concern that Coop was

turning to destructive behavior.

“Good. I’d talk to him myself, but frankly, I haven’t had the

time. And something tel s me that it would go down easier

coming from you.”

“You must be incredibly busy assisting with The Charmed

Kil er case.”

The man removed his glasses to rub eyes that were ringed

with dark circles. “It’s like nothing this city has ever seen.”

“I know. Let’s hope the GBI makes an arrest soon. Did the

murderer leave any DNA at the recent crime scenes?”

The man opened his mouth to answer, then frowned. “I

realize that Michael Lane was a coworker of yours, but you

know I can’t discuss the details of the crime with you.”

She played the sympathy card. “My fugitive father’s name

popped up on a profiler’s list, too, so I’m eager for the

kil er to be found for more than one reason.”

His mouth tightened, then he glanced all around before

looking back to her. “I can tel you the GBI is expecting

results from the state crime lab any day now. I don’t know

if an arrest wil be made, but it’s something to go on. We

could all use a break. Take care.”

She nodded and proceeded down the hal , feeling a little

lighter in her soul. Maybe the case would be solved soon.

With Michael apprehended, everyone could exhale and

life could get back to being just plain crazy.

Carlotta found the laboratory door and knocked before

sticking her head inside. “Hel o?”

Across the room, Coop was standing in front of a light box

studying an X-ray. He turned his head and did a double

take. “Uh…hi.”

She couldn’t help smiling, it was such a relief to see him.

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

He straightened and pushed up his glasses. “No, come on

in. Want some coffee? I have to warn you, it’s terrible.”

“I’ll try it.”

He walked over to a coffeemaker in the corner sitting

between two coolers marked Human Remains and fil ed a

paper cup. He wore a lab coat over gray jeans and running

shoes. His brown hair had gotten long enough to pul back

into a ponytail. His sideburns were shaggy, his skin pale. It

was hard to believe that just a few short weeks ago, they’d

been walking hand in hand on Daytona Beach. Coop had

been the picture of male vitality—tanned and lean, with a

mischievous smile that made her heart catch. Now his

hand shook slightly and when he turned toward her, his

eyes were bloodshot. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She took a sip and winced.

“Told you.” He laughed awkwardly, then scratched his

temple. “I have a fuzzy memory of seeing you at Moody’s

Saturday night.”

“Yes, I was there.”

He grimaced. “Was I behaving badly?”

“You were smoking a cigar…and drinking.”

“And I seem to recall a woman?”

She gave him a wry smile. “From what I could tel , she was

definitely a woman.”

“I hope I didn’t say anything to offend you. I haven’t

exactly been myself lately.”

“So I’ve heard. Anything you want to talk about?”

He hesitated, then his expression darkened and he shook

his head. “No. I’d rather not involve…anyone. I hope you

understand.”

Her tongue watered to ask him if he was terminal y il , but

after giving him every chance to open up to her, she was

forced to respect his wishes to remain silent on the

matter.

“So what’s up with you?” he asked. “Wesley mentioned

you were staying with Peter.”

She nodded. “That’s right. We thought it would be safer

after learning we’d had Michael Lane as a boarder.”

“He told me about that, too. Scary stuff.”

“Wesley’s installing a security system.”

“Good.”

“Yes, it’s…good.” She sipped the acidic coffee, and the

silence stretched between them. Grasping for

conversation, she looked around the lab. “I understand

you’re doing more work for the morgue.”

“Yeah. I’m working cold cases and generally trying to take

the load off Bruce.”

“I ran into him. He seems real y stressed over The

Charmed Kil er case.”

“Yeah, wel , everybody has their own cross to bear.”

She blinked at the uncharacteristically cold remark, but

chalked it up to ever-present tension between the men.

A knock sounded at the door, then a guy who looked

vaguely familiar walked in holding a long file. “Coop, I—”

He noticed Carlotta and stopped. “Sorry. I’l come back.”

“That’s all right, Pennyman,” Coop said. “What’s up?”

The man held up the file. “I was wondering if you’d take a

look at the results of the Nickson autopsy, just to double-

check a couple of things.”

“That’s not necessary,” Coop said. “I’m sure everything’s in

order.”

“Stil , I’d feel better if you’d look it over,” the man said,

setting the file on a table. “As a favor.”

Coop hesitated, then gave the man a curt nod. Afterward,

though, Coop seemed even more preoccupied.

“Unfortunately, I have a favor to ask, too,” Carlotta said.

His eyebrows went up. “Shoot.”

She set down the coffee and reached for her purse. “I’m

worried about Wesley. I think he might be taking

prescription painkil ers…without a prescription.”

Coop averted his gaze.

Her shoulders fel . “You knew?”

“I…suspected he was stoned a couple of times. Do you

know what he’s taking?”

“I found a generic OxyContin tablet on his bathroom floor.

A friend confirmed that’s what he might be taking.”

Coop shifted foot to foot. “I’m not sure what I can do.”

“You can give me proof so I can confront him.” She pul ed

out the envelope that held Wesley’s hair clippings. “Can

you analyze this hair sample for me?”

He stared at the envelope, but made no movement to take

it. “This is a family matter. You and Wes need to work it

out.”

“I’ve tried, but he won’t be honest with me. I need

something he can’t refute. Please, Coop.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then sighed. “Okay.”

Her chest suffused with affection when he took the

envelope. “Thank you.”

He simply nodded. “I should have something for you in a

couple of days.”

She smiled. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he said, and she thought she detected a wistful

light in his tired eyes before he glanced away.

Carlotta left and drove to the mal thinking what might

have been. After seeing Coop, she was even more

concerned about him. It was apparent he was struggling

against some kind of internal demon. But she was so

grateful that he’d agreed to help her. If Coop delivered the

results in person, maybe she’d have another opportunity

to find out what was plaguing him.

Once she arrived at Neiman’s, however, she had to shelf

her troubling thoughts. The store was having a one-day

“private” shopping event, which was anything but private,

and meant the biggest savings of the summer. The store

was packed. Poor Herb got shuffled around the

department like a mannequin. At one point, Carlotta

feared for his safety.

The hours flew by and the commissions accumulated. She

was tired, but pleasantly numb and hungry when she

waved goodbye to Herb at the store exit. She knew the

man was as tired as she was. And since lots of employees

were leaving at once, Carlotta thought she’d give the guy a

break. She walked out with Patricia, who chattered about

her date with Leo later that evening.

“You and Peter probably have something wonderful

planned this evening, don’t you?” Patricia asked.

“We’l see,” Carlotta said evasively, then waved and

veered off to walk to the pink scooter. In truth, she

dreaded going home. Things were likely to be even more

strained between her and Peter. She wasn’t sure how she

was supposed to react. If she forced more intimacy and

things ended abruptly again, he might retreat altogether.

But if she didn’t, they would never know.

As she buzzed away from the mall, she could feel her body

tensing, and her concentration wandering. She was

traveling along a side road heading toward Peachtree

Street when she heard a loud thump. Something dark had

fallen out of the moving vehicle in front of her. She caught

a glimpse of something like a long duffel bag landing in her

path before she applied the hand brake with as much

strength as she had and swerved to miss it.

She didn’t miss it.

And it wasn’t a duffel bag, she realized at the last possible

second. Exposed bone, charred skin. Horror washed over

her, but she was powerless to stop her momentum.

The burned body stopped the scooter cold. Carlotta flew

over the handlebars and landed hard on her back, then