Six Killer Bodies (4 page)

“Same thing.”

As he waited for her reaction, sweat dripped down his

back. He couldn’t read Meg at all. She was smarter than

anyone his age he’d ever met, let alone a girl. Top that

with the fact that she had a kil er body and was as cool as

hel , and he was pretty damn fascinated by her. She’d once

announced that he could be her boyfriend if only he’d

“straighten up,” which left him feeling alternately irritated

and turned on.

Meg held up the AJC, which heralded THE CHARMED

KILLER CAPTURED? “Isn’t this Cooper Craft the guy you

worked for?”

He set his jaw. “Yeah.”

One eyebrow arched. “You were apprenticing with The

Charmed Kil er?”

“He’s innocent. No way Coop did those things.”

“Really. And you think your dad is innocent, too?”

“That’s right.”

She dropped the newspaper and studied him. “You’re

either the most brilliant guy in the room or the worst

judge of character ever.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What about your sister?”

“She doesn’t believe Coop is guilty, either.”

“No, I mean, what does she think about your father?”

“She’s wil ing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Meg drummed her fingers on the desk, and the rhythmic

movement sent thunder rol ing through his head. Just

when he was on the verge of screaming, she stopped.

“And you think the records in the courthouse database

might shed some light on your father’s case?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was worth a try to

find out.”

“Isn’t the police record public?”

“Just the arrest report. I’m hoping to find the transcript of

the grand jury.”

She began drumming her fingers again.

He reached across and covered her hand with his. “Please

don’t do that.”

Beneath his hand, her fingers were cool and baby soft. The

Oxy magnified the sensation of her skin against his—it was

electric and left him with images of her touching him

elsewhere.

Meg yanked her hand out from under his as if he’d burned

her. She looked flustered, then her gaze hardened. “Let

me get this straight. You hacked into the city computer

system and risked going to jail to help the man who

abandoned you?”

It occurred to him that she might be wired—not out of the

question since her father had hired a P.I. to fol ow him—so

he decided not to say anything. Instead he nodded.

She chewed the side of her mouth and was quiet for so

long, he was sure she was going to turn him over to

McCormick. “I’l make you a deal,” she said finally.

Warning flags rose in his mind. “What kind of deal?”

“I won’t turn you in…if you’l let me help you sift through

your father’s records.”

Wes squinted. “Why would you do that?”

Her expression was haughty. “You’re not really in a

position to ask, are you?”

“No,” he mumbled in agreement, relieved, but stil wary.

Because of all positions he’d imagined himself in with

Meg, this wasn’t even in the top five.

5

“I’d like to see Cooper Craft, please.” Carlotta’s grip on her

shoulder bag was slippery—she was a nervous wreck at

the prospect of facing Coop, but she’d barely slept last

night from worrying over him. She desperately needed to

make sure he was okay.

The lady officer behind the counter at the Atlanta City

Detention Center leaned forward and eyed her

suspiciously, as if she might be hiding a metal file in her

slingbacks. “Are you his attorney?”

While the idea of impersonating Liz Fischer gave her a little

thrill, she decided it would be too easy to check. “No.”

“Reporter?”

“Definitely not.”

“If you’re some kind of serial-kil er groupie, you’re wasting

your time.” The officer’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard about

kooks like you.”

“I’m not a groupie. My name is Carlotta Wren. Brooklyn at

the midtown precinct can vouch for me.”

“Yeah, I know Brook,” the woman conceded with a wary

nod. “But that ain’t gonna get you a free pass into my jail.”

Carlotta realized she would have to change tactics to get

past the cranky gatekeeper. She glanced at the officer’s

name badge and offered her a sad smile. “Officer

McHenry, is it?”

“Uh-hm.”

“Officer McHenry, surely there must be some way for me

to see Coop.”

“No can do. In case you haven’t read the papers, sweetie,

this is a high-profile case. Technically, he’s not supposed to

see anyone except his lawyer and immediate family. So

unless you’re his sister, you ain’t getting in.”

Carlotta angled her head. “What if I’m his girlfriend?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Fiancée?” she asked hopeful y.

The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re engaged to this guy?”

Beneath the ledge of the counter Carlotta discreetly

moved a costume jewelry butterfly band to her left ring

finger, then lifted her hand in reply. “I just need fifteen

minutes.”

“I don’t think—”

“Ten minutes?” She worked up some tears to seal the

deal. It wasn’t hard because she was starting to feel

panicky about not seeing Coop. She couldn’t bear him

thinking that she’d set him up to be arrested. “Just long

enough to break it off. Surely you can understand.”

The woman crossed her arms and nodded. “Girl, you gotta

get out of that mess, for sure.”

Carlotta sagged in relief. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Course, he’l have to agree to see you,” Officer McHenry

said, picking up the phone. “Give me your name again.”

She told the woman, then chewed on a ragged thumbnail.

Would Coop blow her cover and refuse to see her?

The woman talked to someone in low tones and was on

hold for several long minutes. Finally, she replaced the

receiver and tapped on a keyboard before pushing it

toward Carlotta.

“Sign the computer log,” she said. “I’l need your purse,

and I have to search you.”

The officer had typed Coop’s name in the Inmate column.

In the Visitor column, Carlotta typed in her own. Under

“Relationship to Inmate” she hesitated, but with Officer

McHenry watching, she slowly typed in F-I-A-N-C-É-E. If

Peter knew she was pretending to be engaged to Coop,

he’d have a stroke.

The officer waved Carlotta around to a door that she held

open. When Carlotta walked through, the woman said, “I

have to warn you—your man’s in a bad way.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

McHenry took her purse and set it aside, then began to

methodically pat her down. “He’s a drinker, right?”

“He’s had some issues with alcohol,” Carlotta hedged.

“Wel , there’s no alcohol here,” the cop said pointedly.

“Take off your shoes.”

She stepped out of the slingbacks. So Coop was going

through withdrawal. Jack had commented that at least in

jail Coop could dry out.

“Nice shoes,” the officer said, setting them back down for

Carlotta to step into.

“Thanks. I work at Neiman’s at Lenox. Come by sometime

and I’l give you my friends-and-family discount.”

McHenry brightened. “Oh, you’re the one who hooked

Brooklyn up with a coupon.”

Carlotta smiled. “That’s me.”

The officer, now in a better humor, handed Carlotta off to

another uniform, and as she was led through a series of

doors and hallways, she was passed to a pair of guards.

Her pulse ratcheted higher as her heels clacked, echoing

on the tile floor. They delivered her to a small room with

four partitioned booths that faced a glass wall. Carlotta

had to suppress her dismay. She’d expected to be in the

same room with Coop when she talked to him.

Another visitor—an older woman—was talking to an

inmate on the other side of the glass.

“You can take the booth on the far end,” a guard said,

nodding.

Carlotta swallowed hard and moved woodenly to a metal

folding chair in front of a grubby wooden ledge scarred

with letters and names. She lowered herself to the cold,

hard surface of the chair. The guard stepped out of the

room and the steel door closed with a clang. The scene

was surreal, like something in a movie. At the sight of

Coop dressed in a gray jumpsuit and being led in shackles

and handcuffs to a chair on the other side of the glass, she

grew light-headed. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes as

she blinked back tears.

He looked pale and gaunt, his eyes behind his glasses dark

and sunken. He seemed lethargic as he held up his hands

for a guard to unlock the cuffs, but he managed a small

smile when he turned toward her and sat down. He gave

her a small wave, then reached for the phone with a shaky

hand.

Moving in slow motion, she did the same, wracked with

anguish over what he must be going through.

“Hi,” he said into the phone.

It was strange to watch someone talk and hear it through

the earpiece. “Hi,” she returned with a croak. “How are

you?”

A light came into his eyes. “Engaged, apparently.”

She smiled sheepishly, her cheeks warming. “I had to fib or

they wouldn’t let me see you.”

“I don’t mind,” he murmured, then nodded to the

butterfly ring on her left hand. “But that’s a pretty sad

engagement ring I bought you.”

“I had to improvise.”

“I’m just glad Peter hasn’t convinced you to wear his ring.”

Carlotta bit her lip. “You have bigger things to worry

about, Coop.”

He sighed and averted his glance. “So it seems.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He frowned. “About what?”

“Jack told me you were M.I.A. So when you called and said

you were coming by the store with Wesley’s drug test

results, I called Jack to let him know you weren’t missing

after all. I didn’t mean to set you up.”

He looked at her with quiet, hooded eyes. She could tel he

didn’t know whether to believe her. “What’s done is

done.”

“Coop,” she said earnestly, “where is your fight?”

“I’m tired,” he said quietly.

“You’re sick. You’re going through withdrawal from the

alcohol. You’l feel better soon.”

He nodded, but without conviction.

Fear squeezed her heart. “Coop, you’d tel me if something

else was wrong, something more…serious?”

“There’s no need to worry, Carlotta.”

She wet her lips. “Coop, Wesley saw you at the hospital

and he fol owed you—”

“Stop,” he cut in, his jaw hardening. “Don’t say another

word. Whatever Wesley saw or thought he saw, it has

nothing to do with this, understand?”

She nodded, aware that she had hit a nerve. Afraid that

Coop would abruptly end their conversation, she changed

tack. “Your arraignment is Monday?”

“That’s what my lawyer tel s me.”

“I hear Liz Fischer is representing you.”

“At least in the arraignment. Then we’l see.”

She didn’t even want to think about the case going to trial.

“Liz wil take care of you,” she said, trying not to let her

disapproval of the woman show. “Besides, anything could

happen over the weekend. Michael Lane might be taken

into custody. Or—” She sighed. “I hate to say this, but The

Charmed Kil er could strike again and at least everyone wil

know you’re innocent.”

He blinked slowly. “I’m prepared for things to run their

course.”

Carlotta bit her cheek in frustration. Even though she knew

in her heart that Coop wasn’t The Charmed Kil er, she

ached for his reassurance. Then there was the matter of

what he’d said to her just before he was arrested. He said

he’d done something terrible, that he’d kil ed someone.

But he’d been drinking, and at the time when she’d

pressed him, he’d brushed it off as a bad joke.

She held her tongue now only because she worried their

conversation might not be private, and that Coop was stil

too foggy to express himself clearly. She didn’t want to be

responsible for him saying something to further

incriminate himself.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Worried sick about you.”

His mouth twitched. “Stil living with Peter?”

“Staying with him, yes.”

“I’m glad you’re safe. Did you talk to Wesley about the

drug test results?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Don’t put it off too long.”

“I won’t.” Carlotta wet her lips, then put her hand on the

window. “Coop, I’m afraid for you.”

He lifted his large hand to mirror hers against the glass.

“Don’t be. Everything wil work out, you’l see.”

She felt the heat from his skin through the cool glass.

Memories of their weekend in Florida came flooding back

to her. They had been the victims of bad timing and if she

could go back…

Tears clogged her throat. “We want to help, me and

Hannah and Wes. Tel me what we can do.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Water my plants?”

“I’m serious, Coop.”

“You can’t help me, Carlotta. This was bound to happen,

one way or another.”

Her mouth parted in confusion, but before she could ask

him to explain, the door opened and a guard stepped into

the room. “Time’s up.”