Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (5 page)

Wes hustled and carried the slides careful y, concentrating

in order to control the shaking of his hands.

“Thanks,” Coop said, taking them from him.

He watched as Coop removed a slide, put it under the

microscope and adjusted the focus. “Whatcha looking at?”

“DNA samples,” Coop said without raising his head.

“Cool. I thought they had computers to do that stuff.”

Coop gave a little laugh. “Call me old-fashioned. Besides,

the morgue doesn’t have the budget of a network

television show.”

“Can I take a look?”

Coop shrugged and stepped back. “Sure.” Wesley removed

his glasses, then leaned over to press his eye against the

eyepiece and turn the smaller fine-focus knob.

“I see you know your way around a microscope,” Coop

said.

“I was pretty good in biology. What kind of DNA sample

am I looking at?”

“Basic blood sample.”

“What’s it for?”

“I’m trying to identify a body.”

“And this is the only way?”

“It is when there’s no head.”

Wesley jerked up, his mouth suddenly devoid of moisture.

“No head?”

Coop walked across the room to a slab where a sheet-

draped body lay. He pul ed back the sheet and Wesley was

able to cover his dismay over the sight of the decapitated,

decomposing body by recoiling from the stench.

“Here,” Coop said, handing him an open jar of Vicks

VapoRub. “Wipe this under your nose.”

Wesley did, and while the ointment overpowered the

stench of decaying flesh, it also went straight to the

sensitized nerve endings in his face. His eyes watered and

his nose ran like a faucet.

“This guy was found in Piedmont Park, no head and a

missing finger,” Coop said, pointing to the missing digit.

“I’m hoping his DNA wil match something in the system.

The computer can do that.”

“What about fingerprints?” Wesley croaked.

“Burned off, probably with acid. Somebody didn’t want

this guy identified.”

Bile backed up in Wesley’s throat.

“You okay?” Coop said, then covered the body. “Didn’t

mean to shake you up. I thought you were immune to this

by now.”

“I’m okay,” Wesley said. “Just out of practice, I guess.” He

wiped at his eyes and nose. “I was wondering if I could

come back to work with you.”

Coop pul ed off his gloves. “I don’t know if that’s a good

idea.”

“Come on, Coop. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t screw up

again.”

“I already have another guy working with me. Abrams’s

nephew.”

“Is he as good as I am?”

Coop frowned. “No.”

Wes smiled. “There you go. I’m good at this—you said so

yourself.”

Coop shook his head, but Wesley could tel he was

wavering.

“Wil you give me another chance? I could really use the

cash to pay on my court fee.”

“Carlotta told me you got a job as a bike courier.”

His cover for working with Mouse and The Carver. “Uh,

yeah. But it’s only part-time. I need something in the

evenings, and I know that’s when you’re busiest.”

Coop pressed his mouth together, then sighed. “Okay, I’l

give you another chance.”

Wes grinned in relief. “Great. You won’t regret it.”

“I doubt that,” Coop said, then began to store trays of

slides. “Beat it, I gotta get out of here.”

“Any chance I could get you to drop me at the police

station?”

“You in trouble again?”

“Nah, I just need to talk to Jack about something. No big

deal.”

“Okay, let me finish up here.”

“What can I do to help?” Wes hurried to fol ow Coop’s

directions to get the lab back in order. It was the best he’d

felt all day. Knowing he was going to work with Coop again

gave him something to look forward to.

Now that he and Meg Vincent were on the outs.

Not that they’d ever been on the ins…or anything. His

coworker just liked messing with his head.

He used a paper towel to remove the Vicks ointment, then

fol owed Coop to his van, hoping he didn’t look as shaky as

he felt. He needed another hit, but he wasn’t going to risk

it around Coop.

The interior of Coop’s van was cluttered, which was

unusual. Paper coffee cups and crumpled napkins littered

the console, as well as several parking receipts from

Piedmont Hospital. That was strange. When Coop made

pickups from the hospital morgue, he pul ed the van

around to the rear loading entrance. There were no

parking receipts involved.

“So how’s the community service going?” Coop asked

when they got underway.

“At ASS?” Atlanta Systems Services. “Fine, I guess. I was off

today because they’re doing some construction in the

building.” Maybe Meg would miss him, the little tease.

“And your probation meetings?”

“Fine.” Except for the fact that, unbeknownst to his

probation officer, her boyfriend was a thug who had it in

for him.

Coop shifted in his seat. “How’s Carlotta?”

Wes grinned. “What took you so long? She’s okay. Did you

hear that lunatic Michael Lane, the one who tried to throw

her over the balcony at the Fox Theater, has been living in

our parents’ room and we didn’t even know it?”

“What?”

“Yeah, crazy stuff. They thought he was dead when he

jumped off the bridge into the Hooch, but he must’ve

survived. Dude sneaked into our place and he’s been living

there ever since.”

Coop inadvertently applied the brake. “Did he hurt

Carlotta?”

“No. That’s the kicker—he just did a few chores around

the house, stole some money and took off. She found his

clothes this afternoon and figured it all out.”

“It must’ve been after the memorial service for the A.D.A. I

saw her there and she didn’t mention it.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Do they think Lane is The Charmed Kil er?”

“I don’t know—maybe. She said that our entire house is a

freaking crime scene.”

“Where is she?”

Wesley pressed his lips together. He knew Coop was crazy

about his sister. And they might be together now if Wesley

hadn’t stowed away on their trip to Florida a few weeks

ago and sabotaged their romantic weekend. But prior to

that, Peter had gotten Wesley out of a serious jam and

he’d promised the man he’d do what he could to keep

Coop and Jack away from Carlotta.

“Wes?”

He exhaled. “Carlotta is at Peter’s.”

Coop’s eyes widened. “She moved in with him?”

“More like staying with him, she said. You remember how

big the dude’s place is.”

“Not big enough,” Coop muttered as they pul ed up to the

midtown police precinct.

“I’m staying with my buddy Chance, so call my cel when

you need me,” Wes said, opening the van door to swing

down. “Thanks for the ride.”

Coop gave him a little salute, but Wes could tel he was

preoccupied, thinking about Carlotta staying at Peter’s

house. No doubt about it, Coop had it bad for her.

Wes watched the van pul away, unable to shake the

feeling that something was wrong with Coop. Carlotta was

afraid that he was drinking again, and maybe she was

right. Or maybe it was the pressure of being back inside

the morgue that he had once run. Regardless, Coop

seemed a little off his game, and it worried Wes to see him

that way.

As Wes turned, he spotted something out of the corner of

his eye—the black SUV with tinted windows that had been

haunting the curb of the town house on and off for weeks.

The occupants had never made themselves known, but

with the spectrum of trouble he and Carlotta had been in

over the past few months, it could be anyone from a testy

loan shark to a vengeful murder suspect to a pissed-off

mall customer. The SUV pul ed away and although Wes

craned to see the plate, the vehicle was too far away and

moving too fast to make it out.

But since no one was shooting at him, really, how bad

could it be?

He strol ed into the police station, flirted with Carlotta’s

friend Brooklyn who thought he was cute, then got her to

call Jack. She buzzed him through a secure door, and when

he walked inside, he spotted Jack getting a Coke out of a

vending machine.

Jack waved. “Want one?”

“Nah, thanks. You look like hel , dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Jack fed in coins, then retrieved his

can and cracked it open. “What’s up?”

Wes held up the red phone that Mouse had given him.

“You told me you could have a GPS chip installed in case I

got in a jam.” Mouse’s “chore” for him this morning made

him nervous about what might be on the horizon. He

wanted the security of a panic button.

“Let me get somebody on it,” Jack said, taking the phone.

“It’l take about thirty minutes. Wait here, I need to talk to

you.”

Jack disappeared, then returned a couple of minutes later.

“Have you talked to Carlotta?”

“Yeah, I know about Michael Lane. That’s some jacked-up

shit.”

“Yeah.” Jack’s expression revealed how angry he was that

Carlotta had been in danger. Wes couldn’t tel if Jack really

liked his sister, or just liked his role of self-appointed

protector. “Can you add anything to the story? Do you

remember anything strange?”

“Just that little things were getting done around the

house. I thought Carlotta was nesting or something.”

Jack frowned. “She said you had some cash in the house

that was stolen.”

“Yeah, about ten grand. If you catch the dude, I want it

back.”

“Don’t hold your breath. And do I need to remind you that

you’re on probation? Gambling is not on the menu.”

“It was just a friendly card game,” Wes said.

“Uh-huh. Listen, about this work you’re doing for The

Carver…”

Wesley swallowed past a dry throat, suddenly regretting

not taking that Coke. “Yeah?”

“Wel , this Charmed Kil er case is taking al my time right

now, so don’t rush anything. Just network and keep your

eyes and ears open, especial y when it comes to Hol is

Carver’s son, Dil on.”

“Okay, but so far, the only person I’m networking with is

Mouse.”

“So chat him up. See what he knows.”

Wesley shifted from foot to foot, not at all sure he wanted

to get to know Mouse better. “Did you know that Carlotta

moved in with Peter?” he blurted to change the subject.

Jack scowled. “She’s staying with him until this maniac is

off the streets.”

Wesley arched an eyebrow. “Is that what she told you?”

A muscle worked in the big man’s jaw. “I’l go see if your

phone is ready.”

5

After several blissful moments of daydreaming, Carlotta

pushed herself off the feathery guest bed and unpacked.

The few clothes that she’d brought looked pitiful hanging

in the expansive closet that also featured a steam-iron

press, but it was a treat having so much space. She walked

around the suite, exploring every inch.

The room was meticulously clean, but showed signs of

having been lived in. Carlotta stepped on something

imbedded in the carpet and unearthed a small broken

silver pin shaped like a cat, no doubt left behind by a

houseguest or perhaps a housekeeper.

She set the pin on the counter in the lavish bathroom and

ran her hand along the pale granite flecked with gold.

Luxury bath products lined the vanity shelves. Spa-quality

towels and a white robe lay folded on the edge of the jet

garden tub. She wondered idly if Angela had ever come in

here for privacy, sinking up to her neck in bubbles when

she had the chance.

And then a realization sunk in—this had been Angela’s

room. She and Peter had apparently spent at least some of

their marriage sleeping in separate beds. Carlotta felt a

pang for the dead woman, sorry that Angela’s life—and

death—hadn’t turned out as she’d planned. Carlotta and

Angela hadn’t been best friends in high school or

afterward when their social paths had diverged, but

Carlotta had never wished the woman il , not even after

Angela had married Peter. To be here and uncovering all

her secrets…it felt intrusive, almost an insult to the

woman’s memory.

The troubling thoughts pushed her out of the room. As she

closed the door, she glanced across the hall. While she was

appreciative that Peter hadn’t tried to persuade her to

share his room, the proximity alone worried her. On top of

the nagging sense of betrayal she felt staying in his dead

wife’s room, she knew that close quarters had a way of

escalating intimacy.

But wasn’t part of her decision to be here with Peter to

give them the chance to explore their chemistry?

With her heart and head clicking, Carlotta descended the

stairs, once again awestruck over the sheer size of the

house. If Michael Lane could live in the town house

without her and Wesley knowing about it, a family of five

could live hidden in this place without anyone being the

wiser.

Through a set of open sliding glass doors leading out onto

the pool area, she heard the telltale noises of gril -