Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (36 page)

never hate you, don’t you know that by now?”

Her cel phone rang and she glanced at the caller-ID

screen. “It’s Wes, I should get it.”

He nodded and retracted his hand.

She connected the call. “Good morning.”

“Hey, sis. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I’m going back to work today.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Sure. I feel fine and I’l have a security guard watching

me.”

“You might want to stay home today after you hear this.”

“What’s going on?”

“We were called to pick up two more bodies this

morning.”

“Two bodies? Where?” Peter looked up, his face creased

in concern.

He gave her the address and she mentally mapped it. “But

that’s what? Only two blocks from Moody’s Cigar Bar. Are

they sure it was The Charmed Kil er?”

“Yeah. The charms they pul ed out were little books.”

“Both of them?”

“That’s what I was told.”

Carlotta pressed her fist to her mouth. He was kil ing in

pairs now, with less time between the murders. The

Charmed Kil er’s reign of terror was escalating, just as Jack

had predicted.

34

Because of the morning body pickups, gratis The Charmed

Kil er, Wes was late for his community-service work. Not

that he was in a big hurry to get there. Since yesterday’s

little confrontation at the bike rack, Meg had been like an

ice maker toward him, to the point that he started

questioning whether she’d really known about the P.I. her

father had hired. Maybe Harold Vincent had been playing

him, betting he’d blow up, walk out, leave his daughter the

hel alone. Or make her so angry that she’d want nothing

to do with Wesley.

Had he played right into the man’s hands?

Meg, who could normally be counted on to express her

opinion on just about anything, answered questions only

when she had to and sat out of group discussions. When it

came to talking with Wes one-on-one, it was one-on-none.

Which was why he was surprised when a few minutes

before he was scheduled to leave at noon, she asked if

they could talk privately. He agreed and fol owed her to a

small workroom, secretly relieved and hoping she’d

forgive him for behaving like an ass. He’d decided to come

clean, to tel her that he hadn’t hooked up with E., that she

was his probation officer, that he’d allowed Meg’s father

to goad him into leaving the event.

Meg was wearing a skirt today, so he didn’t mind groveling

if he had to. Anything to get to that second date. All he

could think about was that kiss…

Meg closed the door behind them, then sat down at the

worktable and crossed her slender, tanned legs. She was

wearing blue crisscrossy shoes that tied at the ankles, and

sported pink polish on her toenails. Her hair was shoved

up in a messy twist, and she wore her serious glasses—the

heavy black ones.

“Look, Meg—”

“You don’t get to talk,” she cut in, glaring at him. “Not yet,

anyway.”

She reached into an expandable folder and pul ed out a

computer printout—the cheap continuous paper used to

print programs or large amounts of data. “I ran the Job

Control Language you built to pul data from the databases

McCormick assigned to you for this encryption project.”

Dread began building in his stomach.

“Imagine my surprise when I skimmed the test data and

found a defendant named Randolph Wren.”

He pressed his lips together. He was sunk.

“I did a little research and found the accounts of your

father’s alleged embezzling. And it occurred to me that

you’re trying to access his records, that this whole stunt of

breaking into the courthouse database and being

sentenced to community service in the very department

you hacked into was probably your plan all along.”

He’d be fired, and his probation revoked. He’d be thrown

in jail before nightfall.

“Now you can say something,” she said.

“Are you going to turn me in?”

She studied him with those amazing, quick eyes of hers. “I

haven’t decided yet. Get out of here.”

He looked at the stack of paper on the table, with data

printed in neat rows. In there somewhere was information

on his dad’s case that might or might not help Randolph.

He wouldn’t know until he was able to analyze it.

Wes pushed to his feet and thought about apologizing for

his behavior the other night, but even he could see, at this

point, an apology would seem a little disingenuous. He’d

blown his chance with Meg, and in doing so, had made an

enemy out of the one person who could help him…or take

him down.

He went by his workstation to retrieve his backpack, then

left the building and jumped on his bike. He’d asked

Mouse for the afternoon off so he could finish installing

the security system. Chance was supposed to meet him at

the town house.

But when he got there, his buddy hadn’t arrived yet. He

was probably back at the condo doing Hannah or thinking

about doing Hannah.

Wes unlocked the garage to retrieve the tools he needed

and carried them into the town house. He stil had to

install contact sensors for all the windows and doors. He

began working, conceding that climbing up and down the

ladder for tools was no fun, but he actually got more work

done because Chance wasn’t interrupting every five

minutes to talk about porn or his johnson.

The doorbel rang and he sighed. Speak of the devil. He

descended the ladder and opened the door.

And blinked.

Mouse and three other guys stood outside, armed with

boxes and tools. “I thought maybe you could use a hand,”

Mouse said. “That’s Stuck, Banko and Art. Guys, this is

Wesley.”

“Hey,” they chorused.

“Hey,” he said, stil confused. “You’re going to help me

install my security system?”

“We all know how to get around security,” Mouse said, “so

we know how to make it foolproof.”

Wes pul ed on his chin, thinking it was insane to have a

loan shark’s team install a security alarm. Or maybe it was

bril iant. “Sure, come on in,” he said, stepping aside.

As professed, the men knew what they were doing,

making adjustments to components he’d already installed

and quickly installing the contact sensors around every

door and window in the town house. Mouse supervised.

About an hour later, one of the guys—Banko, he

thought—came back into the living room where Wesley

was working and motioned for him and Mouse to come

into the kitchen. He made a zipping motion across his

mouth, so Wesley didn’t dare utter a word.

In the kitchen Banko pointed to a hole the size of a silver

dol ar in the drywall above the window over the sink.

Imbedded in the white Sheetrock was a black object.

Mouse climbed up on a step stool, then pul ed out a

switchblade to dig around the edges and study it closer.

Finally, Mouse stored the knife, then climbed off the step

stool and gestured for Wesley to fol ow him outside on the

deck.

When the door closed behind them Wesley asked, “What’s

going on? What’s that thing in the wall?”

“A listening device,” Mouse said. “A good one,

professional grade. Installed maybe ten years ago, based

on the stamp on the frame. I hope you haven’t been

talking about anything you’re doing for The Carver, little

man, or anything else you don’t want broadcast. ’Cause

someone’s been eavesdropping, for a long time now.”

Wesley’s heart raced. Had their dad planted the device

before he’d left, hoping to keep up with him and Carlotta?

And could they use it to communicate with him now?

35

Carlotta was looking forward to the end of her shift. She

was stil stiff and sore from the accident, and standing all

day had taken its tol . It was her fault—Peter had tried to

get her to stay home another day, especially in light of two

more kil ings. But if she’d stayed home, he would’ve, too.

And frankly, she couldn’t bear the thought of spending

another day with him hovering.

When her cel phone rang, she assumed it was Peter and

was ashamed of the flash of annoyance she felt. But when

she checked the cal er-ID screen, she was pleased to see

Coop’s name appear.

She connected the cal . “Hel o?”

“Carlotta, hi…it’s Coop.”

She frowned at the unsteadiness of his voice. “Hi, Coop. Is

everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Where have you been? People are worried about you.”

“I…took some time off. You don’t have to check up on me,

Carlotta.”

She blinked at his harsh tone. “Wel , I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Anyway, I got the tox screen back on the hair sample.”

“And?”

“Are you at work?”

“Yes.”

“I’m near there in my van. I can stop by and explain it to

you, so you know what to say to Wes.”

“Okay.”

“See you in a few.”

She ended the call and dialed Jack’s number. He answered

on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that Coop’s okay.”

“Did you see him?”

“No, I talked to him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Did he say where he’d been?”

“No…just that he’d taken some time off.”

“Was he drunk?”

“Maybe, but I hope not. He’s on his way to the store to

drop off something with me for Wes.” She was proud of

herself for making it sound as if Coop was delivering a

sweater instead of the results of a drug test.

Jack made a frustrated noise. “If Coop gets there and he’s

drunk, do not let him get back in his vehicle.”

“I wouldn’t, Jack. Good grief, I’m sorry I even called. I just

thought you might want to know Coop is okay.” She

disconnected the cal , frowning. Everyone was running

short of patience these days.

She waited on customers and straightened clothing racks,

her head and heart racing over what kind of news Coop

was bringing to her. She tried not to read anything into the

fact that he wouldn’t give her the results over the phone.

If the test was negative, wouldn’t he just say so?

On the other hand, maybe he wanted an excuse to see

her. Cheered by that thought, she kept moving, humming

under her breath. A few minutes later she caught sight of

him walking toward her…but she smothered a gasp at his

appearance.

Coop looked shaggy and tired and inebriated. He gave her

a wan smile, and attempted to strike a cocky pose but

missed.

“Hi, Coop,” she said, trying to hide her concern. He had a

couple days’ worth of beard growth and his shirt was

stained. She hoped he hadn’t shown up for work like this,

or Abrams would fire him for sure. “How are you?”

“I’m great, but I heard you had an accident. Were you

hurt?”

She winced at the stench of alcohol wafting off of him.

“No, I’m fine. But how did you hear about that?” The GBI

had made it a point to keep her name out of the

newspaper.

He pushed up his glasses, seeming not to have heard her.

“I did something terrible, Carlotta.”

Alarm tickled her stomach—not out of fear of him, but out

of fear of his sudden state of confusion and personality

shift. “What did you do, Coop?”

His brown eyes looked tortured. He leaned in and

whispered, “I kil ed somebody.”

Her breath caught. “You don’t mean that.”

He studied her for a few seconds, then he smiled. “You’re

right, I’m just joshing you.” From his pocket, he pul ed out

a folded sheet of paper. “Here are the tox-screen results.”

Carlotta took the piece of paper and steeled herself. When

she looked back to Coop, though, her eyes went wide.

Behind him, GBI agents Wick and Green were coming

toward her fast, flanked by a smal fleet of uniformed

officers, most of whom also had weapons drawn.

Detective Marquez was with them, her gaze trained on

Carlotta.

She shrank back. Surely, they weren’t going to arrest her

over a failed polygraph?

Coop must have realized something was going on. When

he looked over his shoulder, Agent Wick slammed him

down on the glass counter.

“Hands behind your back.”

Carlotta was horrified. “What’s going on?”

Agent Green handcuffed Coop while Agent Wick began

reciting his rights. “Cooper Craft, you are under arrest for

murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you

say can and wil be used against you in a court of law…”

Disoriented, Carlotta had backed into a clothing rack.

When Maria came to pul her out, she slapped at the

woman’s hands. “Don’t touch me. Why is Coop being

arrested?”

Maria wet her lips. “Carlotta, Coop is The Charmed Kil er.”

Carlotta shook her head. “No…that’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, I know the two of you are friends. I tried to

warn you about the men you let into your life, but I

couldn’t tel you that Craft was under suspicion.”

Carlotta hugged herself to stop the ful -body tremors that

claimed her. “You’re behind this—you and your idiotic