Body Movers: 3 Men and a Body

by Stephanie Bond

  “It was paid for?”

  She nodded. “But several years ago I had to take out a home equity loan to buy a new heating and air-conditioning unit, replace the kitchen appliances and get caught up on bills. I’m still paying it off.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  His pained expression tugged at her heart. “It’s okay. I don’t know why I’m unloading on you.”

  “It’s my big, broad shoulders,” he said ruefully. “Happens all the time.”

  She smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “So when was the last time you had a vacation?”

  “I can’t remember. But I take off a couple of days a week to go hiking, or attend a film festival, or whatever looks fun.”

  “You seem content.”

  He nodded. “I am, mostly.”

  “Do you miss your old job?”

  “As chief medical examiner? I see you’ve been informed of my checkered past.”

  “Just the Cliffs Notes version. And none of it was told in an unkind way.”

  He lifted his shoulders in a philosophical shrug. “I do miss being the chief M.E. sometimes. Dr. Abrams and I didn’t see eye to eye when we worked together at the morgue. Still don’t. But he’s been good enough to contract me for body hauling. It keeps me on the periphery of doing what I love, what I’m good at.”

  “Sounds like you’re good at lots of things.”

  A sly smile curved his mouth. “You don’t really expect me to brag, do you?”

  “No. That’s not your style.”

  “I have a style?”

  “Yeah,” she said, angling her head. “You’re…understated.”

  “Oh, gee, that’s just what every man wants to hear.”

  She laughed. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “No, I like it,” he said, pulling on his chin. “I think I’ll put it on a T-shirt.”

  She laughed harder. From her bag, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display screen and bit her lip. It was Hannah, who’d made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t happy about Carlotta being alone with Coop all weekend at the beach. “I need to get this,” she murmured, then flipped up the phone. “Hello?”

  Stony silence rang over the line.

  “Hello?” Carlotta said, louder.

  Silence.

  Carlotta sighed. “Okay, be that way.” She flipped the phone closed, shaking her head.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Hannah. She was calling to let me know she’s still giving me the silent treatment.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s got a thing for you.”

  “I kind of picked up on that. How long will she make you suffer?”

  Carlotta gave him a teasing smile. “I guess that depends on how this weekend goes.”

  He grinned widely, but the moment was broken by the sound of her phone ringing again. She reached for it. “I hope she doesn’t keep doing this.” But when she glanced at the display screen, she scowled. J. Terry. She didn’t want to answer. But on the chance that he had news concerning her father’s fingerprints, she murmured, “Excuse me,” to Coop and flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s Jack.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “What do you want, Jack?”

  Coop turned his head toward her, a frown tugging on his mouth before he looked back to the road.

  “I feel lousy about the other day,” Jack said. “You know I don’t want anything bad to happen to Wesley…or to you.”

  He was extending an olive branch, but she didn’t want to let him get close again. Not when he might be bringing her father back from Florida. “You were just doing your job,” she said tightly. “Besides, Wesley is okay.”

  “My hands were tied.”

  “Well, Liz is probably into that.”

  An exasperated sigh sounded on the line. “I seem to remember you tying a pretty decent square knot from your bedpost to my ankle.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Carlotta—”

  She flipped the phone closed and tucked it back into her purse.

  Coop looked over at her. “How’s Jack?”

  “Same. An asshole.”

  He pursed his mouth. “The two of you seem to have some kind of love-hate thing going on.”

  “Not love,” she said, shaking her finger. “Believe me.”

  “Okay.” He shifted in his seat. “Wesley said that Jack has reopened your father’s case?”

  “The D.A. had the case reopened, but he assigned it to Jack.”

  “Tough spot for Jack,” Coop ventured.

  “He doesn’t seem to think so. He’s enjoying it. He’s determined to find my father and drag him back to Atlanta.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “About my father being captured? I’m not sure.” She hesitated, then said, “But I think Jack is underestimating him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My father is intelligent…clever.”

  “I assumed so. How else could he have eluded capture all these years?”

  Carlotta pressed her lips together, wavering. She stared at Coop’s profile. She could trust him to keep a confidence, and she was desperate to share the secret she’d been harboring. “Coop, my father came to see me.”

  He pivoted his head, his eyes wide. “Recently?”

  “Yes. It turns out he was at my funeral after all, in disguise.”

  “You’re kidding! The cops were everywhere.”

  Carlotta wanted to respond, but a movement in the back of the van caught her eye. From behind the mesh partition, a sheet-covered body was rising from the floor of the van. Her eyes watered and her heart seized with terror. She pointed, gasping. At last her vocal cords rallied and a scream exploded from her throat.

  10

  Carlotta screamed, straining against her seat belt, pointing a shaking finger at the sheet-covered body rising in the back of the van.

  “What the hell?” Coop swerved, then pulled the vehicle onto the shoulder of the interstate and brought it to a bumpy halt. He flipped on the hazard lights, then jumped and ran around to the back. With her broken arm, Carlotta moved more slowly, but still opened the door, jumped down and picked her way through the grass, her heart pounding. She rounded the corner just as Coop yanked the tangled sheet from the body struggling underneath it. Wesley sat on top of the flattened gurney, glaring at her, his hair in disarray.

  “Dad came to see you and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Whoa,” Coop said, holding up his hands. “What’s going on? How did you get back here?”

  Wes shrugged. “I was in the garage and climbed in when you went in the house.”

  Coop looked like he wanted to shake him—or worse. “Why?”

  “Yes, why?” Carlotta demanded, crossing her arms.

  Wesley looked contrite. “I needed to get out of town for a few days. When I read your note, Carlotta, I thought coming with you and Coop was a good solution.”

  She gritted her teeth. “And why do you need to get out of town?”

  Wesley climbed out to stand in front of her. “Why didn’t you tell me about Dad?”

  Coop emitted a loud whistle and chopped the air with his hand. “Okay, time out. Why don’t we all get back in the van before we’re killed on the side of the interstate?”

  Carlotta wheeled away and walked back to the passenger door, climbed inside and slammed it. Wesley slid into the backseat and slammed his door. Coop vaulted into the driver’s seat and slammed his. They were all silent for a few seconds, then she erupted.

  “You scared us to death. We could’ve had an accident!”

  “Just when were you planning to make your presence known, Wesley?” Coop asked.

  “When you were too far down the road to take me back,” he replied.

  “I think we’re there,” Coop said dryly. “If I haul you home in this traffic, it’ll take us three hours to ge
t back to this point.” He shot Wesley a hard look. “Or I could toss your ass out on the side of the road.”

  They all knew that Coop wouldn’t do that.

  “Why exactly did you have to leave town?” Carlotta demanded.

  “One of my benefactors is leaning on me.”

  “You mean one of your loan sharks?” she said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

  “Whatever. I thought it was best to lie low for a couple of days.”

  “You couldn’t lie low with a friend?” Coop asked.

  “Come on,” Wesley cajoled. “I can help you with the body, man. Carlotta’s no good to you with her bum arm.”

  Coop frowned. “I didn’t ask her to ride along for her weight-lifting skills.”

  “I know why you asked her to ride along,” Wesley said pointedly. “This way I can keep on eye on you two.”

  “Wesley, I don’t need a chaperone,” Carlotta said, her face growing hot.

  “Okay, okay,” Coop muttered. He dragged his hand down his face. “You’re here. Let’s try to make the best of it. Everyone, buckle up.” He leaned forward and put the van in gear, checking the side mirror for a break in traffic, then eased back into the flow.

  Carlotta sat looking forward, still furious with her brother for ruining the weekend. So much for her and Coop getting to know each other.

  They were all silent for a couple of miles, each one stewing. Then from the back, Wesley asked, “So are you going to tell me about Dad or not?”

  She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, then turned around. “I didn’t know it was him…at the time. This elderly man—at least I thought he was elderly—came up to me at the funeral home. He thought Jack was bothering me because Jack had raised his voice. I was in disguise at the time, so I assumed the man thought Jack was hassling an old lady. When I told him everything was fine, he walked away.”

  “So how did you know it was your father?” Coop asked.

  “I didn’t, until the day I came home from the hospital. I was sorting through the clothes I’d worn the day of the funeral, and I found a note in the pocket of the jacket.”

  Wesley leaned forward. “What did it say?”

  “It said, ‘So proud of you both. See you soon. Dad.’”

  Wesley’s jaw dropped. “So it was Dad.”

  She nodded. “He must have recognized me, even in disguise.”

  “If he was in disguise himself, he must have known what to look for,” Coop said.

  Wesley bounced in the seat, his eyes wide. “This is huge! They’re okay! I knew it!” Then he stopped bouncing. “Did you tell the cop?”

  “No,” she said. “No one knows except you two.”

  “Good thing I was eavesdropping,” Wesley said wryly, “or I might not ever have found out.”

  “You haven’t exactly been home for me to tell,” she retorted.

  “What do you think this means?” Wesley asked. “Do you think he’s watching us? That he’s going to come home?”

  “Who knows?” she said with a shrug. “I think it would be foolish to try to predict his next move. We might not hear from him again for another ten years.” She turned back around and pushed her finger under the edge of her cast to scratch as far as she could reach, her stomach churning over whether to tell them about the fingerprints found at the hotel in Daytona.

  “He’s proud of me,” Wesley said in wonderment.

  The awe in his voice made her heart ache. No, she wouldn’t mention the hotel robbery, she decided. If she told Wesley, he’d only want to tag along and complicate things. This way she could slip away, and Wesley and Coop could entertain each other while she poked around.

  “Of course he’s proud of you,” Coop said, glancing in the rearview mirror, then over to her. “Proud of both of you, of the way you stuck together. And at least you know he’s alive.”

  She smiled and nodded, then looked away. Knowing he was alive somehow made the pain sharper. He could’ve come back if he’d wanted to. All those years struggling, crying, hating…

  Her phone rang again and she rolled her eyes, thinking it was probably Hannah, reminding her that she was being ignored. But when she glanced at the display, her stomach clenched. P. Ashford. She didn’t feel like answering, but considering that Peter had brought Wesley home the other night—not to mention the fact that he’d paid for the very phone she was holding—taking his call was the least she could do.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, then angled herself away from Coop slightly and flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

  “Carly, it’s Peter.”

  “Hi,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded forced even to her own ears. “What’s up?”

  “I called to see how you were feeling.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Really…fine.”

  “And Wesley?”

  “Fine. He’s fine. We’re both…fine.”

  “It sounds like you’re in a car.”

  She glanced sideways at Coop, then back. “I am.”

  “You’re not driving, are you?”

  “No.” She wet her lips. “Actually, I’m with Dr. Craft.”

  “Who?”

  “Cooper Craft. You’ve met.”

  “The body mover is a doctor?”

  “Yes. He, um, knew I was bored out of my mind, so he, um, asked me to ride along…on a business trip.”

  “To pick up a body?”

  “Yes.”

  “He has a weird idea of what constitutes entertainment, in my opinion. When will you be home?”

  “Sunday.”

  “You’re going away with this guy for the entire weekend?”

  “It’s an out-of-state pickup,” she said. “And Wesley’s with us.” She felt perturbed at him for asking and even more perturbed at herself for trying to make the trip look innocent. She sensed Coop straining to decipher the conversation.

  “Oh,” Peter said, sounding relieved. “Well, in that case…” He cleared his throat. “I was calling to ask you to go to New York with me for the weekend, but I guess I’m too late.”

  “New York would’ve been fun,” she said. “Are you going up on business?”

  “Yes. I’ll be back Monday.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk then. Have fun.”

  “I’ll be thinking of you,” he said. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” She disconnected the call, her chest tight with worry and confusion. She had feelings for Peter. She’d been heartbroken after he’d ended their engagement when she’d needed him most. There had been days when she thought she might die from missing him. And yet, now that he was back in her life and offering her everything she thought she’d ever wanted, something held her back. Was she stalling simply to make him pay for leaving her all those years ago? She glanced sideways at Coop. Or was her heart being led down another path?

  “I take it that wasn’t Hannah,” Coop said mildly.

  “No. It was Peter.”

  “With a better offer, sounds like.”

  “Not necessarily,” she hedged.

  “Peter’s not the jerk-off I thought he was,” Wesley commented.

  “Oh?” Coop asked over his shoulder. “He’s your new BFF?”

  “The guy’s loaded. My sister could do worse.”

  Carlotta turned around in her seat. “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

  Wesley shrugged. “So what’s the 411 on the body pickup?”

  “Sunday morning,” Coop said, “in Boca Raton. We’re stopping in Daytona for the night.”

  “Cool,” Wesley said. “We’ll have time to hit the beach. Just think of all those babes in bikinis. Do you think the hotel has a hot tub?” He rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be great!”

  “Yeah,” Coop said, his demeanor utterly defeated, “just great.”

  11

  “Two rooms,” Coop said miserably to the clerk behind the hotel desk.

  “Smoking or nonsmoking, sir?”

  “Smoking,” Carlotta and Wesley said
in unison, then looked at each other.

  “I don’t smoke,” Carlotta protested. “I was just saying that I don’t mind a smoking room if more of them are available.” She swallowed weakly. “Or if they’re less expensive.”

  “Don’t you smoke?” Wesley asked Coop. “If we’re bunking together, I was only thinking of you.”

  Coop frowned at both of them. “Two nonsmoking rooms,” he clarified, then handed over his credit card.

  “I can pay for my room,” Carlotta murmured.

  “I invited you,” Coop said. “I’m paying.”

  From his tone, it sounded as if he was wishing he hadn’t asked her to come along. She pressed her lips together to hold back a smile. It was charming that he was so irritated at Wesley for crashing their trip. Obviously, Coop had been hoping that the two of them would have some alone time. And admittedly, she’d begun spinning a few fantasies of her own.

  Their rooms were next to each other. Coop carried in her suitcase and gave her king-size bed a wistful glance before setting the big piece of luggage on top of it.

  Carlotta opened the curtains to a view of Daytona Beach below. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and the beach was swarming with brown bodies. “Nice room,” she commented.

  “Yeah,” he grunted.

  She walked over and clasped his hand. “Coop, I’m sorry that Wesley intruded on the weekend. But we can still have fun.”

  A pained smile twisted his mouth. “I know. Just let me pout for a little while over what might have been.”

  She raised herself on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for being such a great guy.”

  He sighed. “Guess that’ll have to hold me over for a bit. Ready to hit the beach?”

  “You and Wesley go ahead. I think I’ll do some shopping first and join you in a couple of hours.”

  “Do you need for me to drive you?”

  “No, I’ll get a taxi.”

  “I’ll take my phone with me. Call me when you get back so we can find each other.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have fun.” He gave her bed one last look of longing, then left the room and closed the door behind him. Carlotta laughed to herself, then unzipped her suitcase. With the cast, it took a while to change into an Anika Brazil beaded halter bikini and cover-up, but after much contortion and cursing, she finally managed. She slid her feet into jeweled flat sandals, donned a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, then picked up a beach bag of supplies and headed down to the lobby.