Six Killer Bodies (8 page)

and glanced toward the wide staircase that led to their

respective bedrooms. Peter had grown less chatty, as if he,

too, felt the awkwardness descend. His expression was a

mixture of anxiety and longing.

“I think I’l go ahead and turn in,” she said in a rush. “My

back is stil sore from the accident.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding relieved. “I think I’l stay up and

work a little. Good night.”

“Good night.” She fled before tension could overtake the

moment. Upstairs, she closed the door to the guest room

where she’d been staying. Peter had been kind enough to

offer her refuge when she’d needed a safe place to stay.

But it had come with the expectation that they would

work on their relationship. It wasn’t too much to ask,

Carlotta conceded, but she hadn’t anticipated that soon

after, Wesley would test positive for drugs, and Coop

would be arrested as a serial kil er.

And that she would stil feel so uncertain about creating a

life with Peter.

After washing her face and putting on pajamas, Carlotta

climbed under the covers of the bed. She longed for sleep

to erase the problems plucking at her. But she was half-

afraid to close her eyes, afraid that the morning would

bring yet another crisis.

From the nightstand, her cel phone rang. She glanced at

the caller ID screen. Jack. His cal was becoming a nightly

ritual.

She connected the call. “Hi, Jack.”

“All tucked in by your lonesome again?”

She sighed. “What do you want, Jack? It’s been a long

day.”

“I could come over and rub your—”

“Jack!”

“I was going to say ‘feet.’”

“I’m sure Peter would love that,” she offered.

“Maybe he’s into watching versus doing.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait. I called to tel you that the GBI agents want you to

come in Monday morning to answer more questions.”

“About Coop?”

“I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

“Are you back on The Charmed Kil er case?”

“Not officially, but I occasionally hear things.”

Pil ow talk with Maria? “So when I get the formal request,

I’m supposed to act surprised.”

“Yeah, you’l have to really stretch yourself because you

never lie,” he said dryly.

“Acting comes in handy sometimes,” she cooed. “A

woman never knows when she might have to fake it.”

He laughed. “Not with me, sweetheart.”

She frowned. He was right, the arrogant man. Unbidden

desire whipped through her body, and on the heels of it, a

shot of melancholy, because nothing in her life seemed to

be in sync. She knew Jack was withholding information

from her, and he knew she was withholding information

from him.

“Jack…I’m scared.”

“Of the dark?”

She smiled. “Yes. I’m scared of the dark.”

“Set the phone on your pil ow,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait

until you fall asleep before I hang up.”

The man was ful of surprises. Carlotta set the phone next

to her ear and curled onto her side, listening to Jack

breathe. She made an effort to outlast him, but she lost

that struggle with a smile on her face.

8

Wesley shifted on the uncomfortable chair in the coffee

shop, waiting for Meg. He hadn’t wanted to crawl out of

bed so early, but she’d asked him to meet her outside the

office to go over the test data at this godawful hour. So

here he was, sneaking a smoke under the table, trying to

wake up. He was on his second foamy drink with sprinkles

that was some pricey derivative of coffee.

Conscious of his promise to Carlotta, he’d swallowed only

half a tablet of Oxy this morning, cutting his normal dose.

And he’d hoped the extra caffeine would help to ward off

withdrawal. Instead, his head rumbled and his bladder was

about to explode, but he wasn’t about to carry a damn

bouquet of flowers into the john.

He looked at the flowers and hoped Meg didn’t notice the

brown edges. It was the best bunch the convenience store

on the corner had to offer. He picked off a few dying

petals, but it left the flowers looking a little bald. He tossed

down the rubber-banded bouquet and wiped his hand

over his mouth. Like it mattered.

From his backpack, the theme of The Mickey Mouse Club

sounded. He winced—if Mouse was calling this early in the

morning, it couldn’t be good. They’d had a lousy

col ections day yesterday—he probably wanted to work

today. Wes cursed under his breath and flipped open the

pay-as-you-go phone. “Yeah?”

“Hey, little man, did I wake you up?”

“Nah. What’s going on?”

“Bad news. You know that Logan kid you let slip through

your fingers yesterday?”

“The Georgia Tech student who owes The Carver ten

large? I didn’t expect the guy to jump out the window.”

“Yeah, wel , I just found out the frat boy got kicked out of

school. Which means he’s probably planning to hightail it

back to Cincinnati and skip out on his debt, if he hasn’t

already.”

Wes sighed. “I wasn’t planning to work today.”

“Change your plans,” Mouse said. “The stakes went up

when The Carver bought your debt from Father Thom.”

Another loan shark he owed…or used to. Now all his

markers were with The Carver, the man he was working

undercover for in exchange for leniency from the D.A. on a

previous charge. To get his foot in the organization, he’d

offered to partner with Mouse to collect on “non-

traditional” accounts—students whose environments he

could infiltrate.

“If this schmuck is stil in town, find him,” Mouse said.

“And if I can’t?”

“The Carver’s gonna hold you personally responsible.”

The line went dead and Wesley snapped the phone closed.

His arm tingled where The Carver had sliced the letters C-

A-R into his flesh for a previous infraction, with the

promise to finish the job if Wesley stepped out of line

again.

Wes lifted the cigarette for a drag.

“You can’t smoke in here,” the guy at the next table said.

Wesley started to give him the finger, then something in

the newspaper the guy was reading caught his eye. APD

Receives Anonymous Note Identifying Headless Man. “Can

I see that?”

“Are you going to put out the cigarette?”

Wesley grabbed the paper out of the guy’s hand and took

another drag.

“Hey!”

“Relax, dude. Your blood pressure wil kil you before my

cigarette does.”

The guy got up and scurried away. Wes scanned the short

article that described the scrap of paper he’d mailed to the

APD with three variations of a name scribbled on it. He

hoped that one of the names belonged to the headless

corpse in the morgue. He was pretty sure Mouse had done

the guy in, since the dead man’s finger had been in the

trunk of Mouse’s Town Car. And because Mouse had

forced Wes to remove the teeth from the severed head

with a pair of pliers.

The APD hopes the person who mailed in the tip wil come

forward.

“Right,” Wesley murmured.

“Hi.”

He looked up just as Meg dropped into the seat opposite

him. She wore jeans, a striped T-shirt, and rugged

sneakers. Her hair was skimmed back into a bouncy

ponytail. His heart jerked sideways. “Hi.”

“Whatcha reading?” She craned for a look.

“Nothing,” he said, setting the paper aside.

“Are those for me?” she asked, nodding to the flowers.

“Uh…yeah.” Heat climbed his neck as he snubbed out the

half-smoked cigarette.

She picked up the bouquet and brought it to her nose.

“Nice. But why?”

Under the table, Wes’s leg jumped from the lack of Oxy.

“Because I was an ass at the reception. The woman you

saw me talking to—she wasn’t someone I hooked up with

afterward. She’s my probation officer. I was embarrassed

to tel you.”

Meg’s pink mouth rounded. “Oh.”

“Your dad made me mad, but I shouldn’t have left without

tel ing you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed. “Now we’l have to

have that first date all over again.”

Pleasure coiled through his chest. At the reception, Meg

had announced to him that she never put out on the first

date. His mind and body had instantly zoomed ahead to

the second date, a chance he’d presumed had been lost

forever.

She removed a daisy and stuck it in her ponytail. “I’m

going to get tea. Do you need anything?”

He stared at her. She made it seem so effortless, being

pretty and sexy. She was like a wild animal—natural and

carefree and a little scary.

“Wes?”

“Uh, I’m going to hit the head. I’l be right back.”

In the bathroom, he splashed his face with water, but

nothing seemed to help the excessive sweating. From his

pocket he pul ed the other half of the Oxy pil he’d

swallowed earlier. This half he popped into his mouth and

chewed. He needed the quick rush and the relief of his

headache if he was going to look at the printouts Meg had

brought. He promised himself he’d cut back on the Oxy

again after he left Meg. For now, he needed all his wits

about him.

When he returned to the table, Meg was sipping milky tea

and already perusing the thick printout of info she’d pul ed

from the database. The data was arranged in dense

columns that would make little sense to anyone just

glancing at it. She handed him a yel ow highlighter pen

when he sat down, then she narrowed her eyes.

“Did you take a hit of something in the bathroom?”

“No,” he lied happily. He was starting to feel good.

She looked dubious, then gestured to the page in front of

them. “So here are your dad’s records. What do you make

of them?”

He eagerly scoured the pages, looking for descriptive text,

notes from the court reporter, any kind of transcript. But

the staccato bits of info he fol owed with his finger were

familiar and useless—his father’s name, birthday, the

county, the judge’s name.

“What were the charges?” Meg asked, her voice tentative.

“Right here. Investment fraud and embezzlement.” He

scoffed. “What a crock.”

She leaned in to look over his shoulder, infusing the air

with the scent of strawberries. “What’s Mashburn, Tul y &

Wren?” she asked.

“The name of the firm where he worked.”

“He was a partner?”

“Yeah,” he said, his chest puffing out a little. “We had a big

house. Carlotta and I went to private schools and

everything.”

“What school did you graduate from? I went to St. Pius.”

He squirmed. “I went to Paideia when I was small. After

my folks left, I transferred to public school.”

She sipped her tea and nodded, but he could tel a public

school education made him seem inferior in her eyes.

“Who is Liz Fischer?” she asked, tapping the report.

“My dad’s attorney—and mine.” He glanced over the rest

of the data, then pushed it away with a sigh. “There’s

nothing here I didn’t already know.”

“We can keep poking around,” Meg offered.

He nodded warily.

“So…did your parents leave in the middle of the night?”

“No,” he mumbled, staring into his scummy coffee. “I

remember they were dressed up, going out to eat, I think.

My mom was wearing a red dress. She always looked and

smel ed great.”

Meg smiled.

“She gave me a kiss goodbye and I stood at the door

waving at their car.” He took a drink from the cup. “And

they never came home.”

Meg’s smile disappeared. “Just like that?”

He nodded. “Pretty much. Carlotta got me ready for school

the next morning. I thought my parents were sick or

something. But when we got home from school, I knew

something was wrong. Carlotta started making al these

phone calls, and I could tel she was scared.” He gave a

little laugh. “But she kept tel ing me everything was okay,

that Mom and Dad would be home soon.”

“And?”

“And…nothing. Carlotta took care of me, and eventually

we just stopped talking about our parents.”

“So you never heard from them—no phone calls,

nothing?”

“They sent a few postcards over the years, to say hi and

that they were okay.”

“From where?”

“From all over. I guess they stayed on the move.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “But you’ve never…talked

to them? You’ve never seen them in all this time?”

He shook his head.

Meg looked horrified. “But how could they do that to you

and your sister?”

Wes could feel his defenses rising. “They knew we’d be

okay.”

“But to go all this time and not talk to your kids?”

He pushed up his glasses, trying to tamp down his anger.

“What kind of parent does that?”

“Actually…my sister has seen my dad.”

Her eyes went wide. “When?”

“A couple of months ago, someone stole Carlotta’s identity

and jumped off a bridge. For a while, we all thought it was

her. The news even reported her death.”

“How awful.”

“The D.A. asked Carlotta to play dead for a while, hoping it

would bring my parents out of hiding.”