Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (6 page)

wrangling. When she stepped outside, she spotted Peter

at the far end of the patio, in the outdoor-kitchen area.

Mingled scents of chlorine and spices fil ed the humid air.

He waved her over and, after slipping off her shoes, she

made her way across the stone lanai surrounding the

breathtaking pool. Crystalline blue water slapped gently

against the sides. The memory of Angela lying near the

pool’s edge dressed in a black trench coat and boots, her

eyes open and staring, rose in Carlotta’s mind. She gave

herself a mental shake and walked toward Peter.

She’d forgotten the lavishness of the outside living area—a

recent addition, Peter had hinted, that Angela had wanted

more than he had. Besides the pool, there was an in-

ground hot tub and a waterfall. The landscaping was

magnificent, with huge potted trees and urns making it

feel like a European vil a. And behind the alfresco kitchen

that featured commercial-grade appliances and a firebrick

oven sat a small building separate from the house—a

guest-house-slash-pool house. Allegedly, it’s where Angela

had entertained her paying customers.

Carlotta marveled that Peter hadn’t sold the entire

property after the whole ordeal, but she rationalized that

he must have his own reasons for staying put.

“I forgave her,” he said, as if he could read her mind. He

glanced up from the gril where he turned thick steaks and

brightly colored vegetables with a pair of tongs. “That’s

why I didn’t sel the house…or burn it to the ground.”

Two glasses of red wine sat on the bar. Carlotta slowly

climbed onto a stool and reached for one. “I wasn’t going

to ask.”

“Everyone else has—my friends, coworkers, my parents,

even Angela’s parents. No one can imagine why I’d want

to live here after everything that happened.”

“This is your home,” she murmured. “Besides, I’m sure you

have good memories here, too.”

He nodded, reaching for the other glass of wine. “A few.

But the truth is, Angie and I led separate lives, even when

we were both here. I don’t feel bound up in memories

because we didn’t make many.” He made a rueful noise.

“That probably sounds cold.”

“No, I understand what you’re saying.”

He took a drink from his glass. “Stil , even though our

marriage wasn’t good for her or for me, I feel obligated to

do right by her. And part of that is keeping the house she

loved. Plus, I couldn’t stand the thought of ghouls coming

round to tour the place, just to see where she’d been

murdered. They would’ve, you know. Even her so-cal ed

friends were vultures. After she died, they brought food

and gifts of condolence, but sooner or later, they were all

demanding the gory details. It was sickening.”

Carlotta’s heart squeezed for what he had endured at the

hands of people who pretended to be his friends. “I know

what that feels like to some degree. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, then smiled. “That’s all behind us now. We

can’t change the past…only the future.” He lifted his glass

of wine. “To the future.”

She clinked her glass to his and drank deeply, glancing at

him over the rim. With his shirtsleeves rol ed up, his hair

tousled and his face flushed with heat, he looked

incredibly handsome. Awareness curled in her stomach—

Peter had been her first lover. At one time, they’d known

each other’s bodies intimately, couldn’t get enough of

each other. She could feel his body pul ing on hers now,

calling her home.

Sleeping across the hall from him might be harder than

she’d anticipated.

“Did you get unpacked?” he asked, then took a drink from

his glass.

She nodded. “Yes, the closet is wonderful, the room is

wonderful and the house is…wonderful. Thank you for

having me as your guest, Peter.”

His eyes glowed with a banked fire. “You can stay as long

as you want.”

The way he looked at her fueled her own curiosity. She

expected him to flirt with her—over dinner and as the

evening wore on and the wine went down. But he was the

perfect gentleman, keeping the conversation light, even

steering clear of talking about their recent agreement to

start looking into her father’s assertions that someone

within his old firm had framed him.

Instead, they laughed and teased and discussed movies

and nonsensical things, as if he sensed that she was happy

to avoid talking about The Charmed Kil er and the panic

unleashed on the city. To avoid thinking Michael Lane was

the sicko they were looking for. The only time Peter hinted

at the danger she was in was later in the evening, when he

showed her how to operate the alarm system.

“I have an early breakfast meeting,” he said. “But when I

leave, I’l reactivate the alarm. When you get up, you’l

need to turn off the motion detector before going

downstairs, by pushing this button.”

He demonstrated and she nodded. Simple enough.

“The alarm wil stil be on for the doors and windows on

the first floor, so if you want to go outside, push this

button. At that point, the entire system is off. But I don’t

recommend you do that.”

She nodded. “I understand.” The house might be wired for

bear, but if the alarm was off and someone made it past

the guardhouse, a person would be a sitting duck. The

neighbors were too far away to be of much help.

“When you leave the house, there’s a panel next to the

door leading to the garage. Push the button to reactivate

the motion detector and close the door behind you.

There’s no alarm on the garage door, so you have all the

time you need to get into the Porsche and out of the

garage.”

She nodded, mentally reviewing things in her head. “This

thing isn’t going to go off if I get up in the middle of the

night, is it?”

He smiled. “Not if you stay upstairs. The motion detectors

are just for the first floor.”

She bit her lip. “And if I set off the alarm by mistake?”

“Within a few seconds, the monitoring service wil cal to

see if everything is okay. They’l reset the alarm if you

need them to.”

“Okay.” Carlotta smiled. “If you don’t mind, I think I might

go ahead and turn in. I need to check in with Wes, and let

Hannah know where I am.”

“I’m tired myself,” Peter said, then winked. “It’s not every

day I get shot with a Taser.”

As they climbed the stairs together, her heart rate

accelerated and her hand felt slippery on the railing.

Suddenly the palatial house seemed small, the air

claustrophobic. When they reached the landing, Peter

turned to her and lowered a very nice kiss on her mouth.

She kissed him back, surprised at her all-over reaction. He

raised his head and studied her face. The air sizzled. She

wondered if Peter was going to ask her to spend the night

with him, and what she would say if he did.

Then he smiled. “Good night, sleep tight.” He disappeared

into his room and closed the door.

Carlotta stood there for a few seconds, then retreated to

her own room, blaming her response on the wine. And

wondering why Peter hadn’t tried to take advantage of

her.

Inside the guest suite, she picked up her cel phone and

her purse and headed for the veranda. Outside in the

muggy night air, she glanced over the scattered lights of

the neighborhood and lit up a cigarette. She inhaled it

greedily while dialing Wesley’s cel number.

“Hey, sis,” he answered. “How do you like being back in

the ’hood?”

She smiled. “I can’t lie—Peter’s house is nice.”

“What’s that sound? Are you smoking?”

She turned her head to exhale. “What? No, I’m not

smoking.”

“The Surgeon General says smoking is bad for your

health.”

Carlotta frowned. “You’re smoking right now, aren’t you?”

He exhaled into the mouthpiece. “Yeah. But it’s an organic

cigarette, so it’s cool.”

She gave a little laugh. “Peter has plenty of room if you

change your mind and want to stay here, too.”

“Thanks, but I’m settled in Chance’s extra bedroom for

now. He lets me smoke inside. I’l bet you’re out on a fancy

porch or something, sneaking around, aren’t you?”

She looked at the exquisitely furnished veranda and flicked

her ashes away from an upholstered chaise. “Or

something. Have you been back to the town house?”

“No. Jack said he’d let me know when the CSI team was

finished so I can install a security system.”

She frowned. “When did you talk to Jack?”

“Uh, earlier. I just wanted to see what was going on, that’s

al .”

“Did he have any news?”

“Not that he shared with me.”

“Okay. So I guess I’l see you when I see you?”

“Yeah. I’l check in.”

“You’d better.” She disconnected the call, then sucked on

the cigarette until her cheeks hurt. God, it tasted so good.

She punched in Hannah’s number, but no surprise, her

friend didn’t answer. Carlotta left her a message with her

whereabouts and the reasons why, then ended the call,

shaking her head.

Normally, she wouldn’t think twice about Hannah not

answering her phone. Her culinary friend, who dabbled in

catering—and body moving when Coop permitted—had a

lot of men, er, irons in the fire. But recently, Jack’s

profiling partner, Maria, had accused Carlotta of not

knowing anything about her good friend. Carlotta had

bristled at the allegation, but admittedly, it had made her

curious about what was going on when Hannah couldn’t

be located or made vague excuses to escape.

She tapped some ash off the end of her cigarette, causing

the charms on her bracelet to clink. She fingered them,

shaking her head over the idea perpetuated that the

charms on the bracelets sold by Olympian Eva McCoy for

charity were not only unique to the wearer, but were also

predictive. Her particular bracelet’s charms were a puzzle

piece, an “aloha” charm, three hearts bound together, two

champagne glasses toasting and a woman whose arms

were crossed over her chest—which looked a little too

much like a corpse for Carlotta’s comfort.

If she looked hard enough, she could find connections to

her life. She was trying to figure out the puzzle of her

father’s guilt or innocence, for example. And shortly after

donning the bracelet, she’d met Mitchel Moody, the son

of June Moody, the woman who ran Moody’s Cigar Bar.

Mitch was currently on military leave from Hawai .

It was a flimsy connection, but a connection nonetheless.

As far as the three hearts linked together, one might say

that it could refer to the three men in her life: Jack, Coop

and Peter. The champagne glasses…wel , she would

certainly celebrate once The Charmed Kil er was

apprehended…with someone.

And the weird corpse-looking charm, she didn’t want to

think about.

Carlotta took a final deep drag on the cigarette, then

exhaled leisurely while she glanced over the roofs of the

quiet neighborhood. Where she and Wesley lived in

Lindbergh, she’d grown accustomed to the boom of car

radios and the scream of sirens. Here, the only thing

disturbing the peace were suburban crickets.

She squinted at a flash of something—light? metal?—from

the house closest to Peter’s, which was slightly up the hil

and partially hidden by trees. There was a movement

outside a window. As she continued to stare, she could

make out more details and realized that someone was

standing on a terrace in partial light.

Staring at her with binoculars.

Unnerved, she walked back inside and secured the door,

dismissing the incident as typical neighborly snooping. In

light of Angela’s scandalous behavior, she suspected more

than one set of binoculars had been trained on the

Ashford house over the past few months.

She suddenly felt very exposed.

After washing her face and donning silky tap pants and a

matching camisole, she snuggled down in the mountain of

pil ows and set the alarm on her phone so she wouldn’t

oversleep. She needed to al ow extra time to get ready for

work, not to mention drive an unfamiliar car along an

unfamiliar commute. While she was scrol ing through the

features, her phone rang, startling her so badly she nearly

dropped it.

She hadn’t realized how skittish she’d become.

But when she looked at the caller-ID screen, she smiled.

Jack.

She connected the call. “Are you calling to tuck me in?”

His sexy laugh rumbled over the line. “Yup. What are you

wearing?”

“Sweatpants and big fuzzy socks.”

“Good, that should keep Ashford in his place.”

She sighed. “What do you want, Jack?”

He made a rueful noise. “I mentioned that the GBI is

coming on board The Charmed Kil er case.”

“Yeah.”

“They want to interview you as soon as possible.”

Her heart raced—when would this ghastly situation end?

“I can come down in the morning before I go to work.