5 Bodies to Die For

by Stephanie Bond

  She gasped, her shoulders dropping in relief. “Then what’s in the urn?”

  “Sand from where she and I honeymooned. I’ve actually been meaning to get rid of it, but the urn is top heavy if it’s empty, and I prefer the vase on the table over the silk flower arrangement that was there before.”

  Carlotta laughed through her fingers. “I’ve been worried sick you’d find out and hate me.”

  Peter reached over and covered her hand with his. “I could never hate you, don’t you know that by now?”

  Her cell 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’ll 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 Killer?”

  “Yeah. The charms they pulled out were little books.”

  “Both of them?”

  “That’s what I was told.”

  Carlotta pressed her fist to her mouth. He was killing in pairs now, with less time between the murders. The Charmed Killer’s reign of terror was escalating, just as Jack had predicted.

  34

  Because of the morning body pickups, gratis The Charmed Killer, 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 hell 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 followed 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 tell 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 pulled 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 pull 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 still 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 doorbell 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, still 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 pulled on his chin, thinking it was insane to have a loan shark’s team install a security alarm. Or maybe it was brilliant. “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 dollar 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 pulled 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 follow 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 still stiff and sore from the accident, and standing all day had taken its toll. It was her fault—Peter had tried to get her to stay home another day, especially in light of two more killings. 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 cell phone rang, she assumed it was Peter and was ashamed of the flash of annoyance she felt. But when she checked the caller-ID screen, she was pleased to see Coop’s name appear.

  She connected the call. “Hello?”

  “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. “Well, 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 call, 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 killed 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 pulled 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 small 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 will be used against you in a court of law…”

  Disoriented, Carlotta had backed into a clothing rack. When Maria came to pull 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 Killer.”

  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 tell you that Craft was under suspicion.”

  Carlotta hugged herself to stop the full-body tremors that claimed her. “You’re behind this—you and your idiotic profiling. This is a horrible mistake.”

  “Carlotta.”

  She looked up to see Jack. “Jack!” She ran to him and put her arms around his chest. “Thank God you’re here. Tell them.” She gestured frantically to Maria and the GBI agents who were talking between themselves while Coop stood nearby with a uniform on each side, his head down. “Tell them they’re making a huge mistake. You know Coop. He could not have done these things.” She was crying now. “Jack, do something.”

  “It’s out of my hands,” Jack murmured quietly.

  Agent Wick came over. “Thanks for the tip, Jack, letting us know where we could find Craft.”

  Carlotta pulled away, stricken. “You led them to Coop? How could you do that?”

  “It’s for his own good,” Jack said quietly. “Come on, I’ll take you to Ashford’s.”

  She jerked away. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Jack’s face softened—he looked a little dazed himself. “This isn’t the time to be stubborn. I’ll explain everything in the car.” He turned her away from Coop. “Come on, let’s get your things and go.”

  She had to lean on Jack’s arm on the way to the parking lot because she couldn’t see through the tears. He settled her in the front passenger seat of his sedan, then they headed north on Peachtree. Jack had to take a cell-phone call.

  Carlotta looked down and realized that in one hand, she still clutched the paper Coop had given her. She wiped her eyes, unfolded the report and scanned it several times to make sense of the formatting. The chemical that had been screened for was listed in the left column, and the results on the right. She skimmed the results column and stopped on a POSITIVE entry next to “Opiate/oxycodone.”

  A perfect ending to a perfect day.

  She sat back, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.

  Jack closed his phone, then reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. He handed it to her, his expression drawn. “You going to be okay?”

  Carlotta took the hankie and wiped her face. Then she blew her nose and took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Because this isn’t over, Jack. Coop is innocent. You’ll see.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3213-0

  5 BODIES TO DIE FOR

  Copyright © 2009 by Stephanie Bond, Inc.

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