“Thank you,” she murmured. “Although I have no idea how those cigarettes got in there.”
He smiled. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah, I will be. You?”
“Yeah, I will be.” Coop winked. “It looks like you’re in good hands with Peter.”
She nodded. “He is a good man. My cup runneth over lately.”
He made a rueful noise of agreement. “So, congratulations, Ms. Wren. Your persistence paid off. Thanks to you, Kiki Deerling will get justice.”
“So now there will be an autopsy?”
“Most definitely.”
“But if she had heroin in her system, her sister might get off.”
“It’s possible,” he said. “But maybe Kiki was clean.”
Carlotta nodded. “I hope so.”
Peter came striding up. “The car’s ready. Let me carry you.”
“Don’t be silly. I can walk.”
He bent down and whispered, “Do this one thing for me.”
Carlotta smiled and relented. She looped her arm around his shoulder and he picked her up. As he carried her to the car, she looked back at Coop. The tight, wounded expression on his face tore at her. It was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen.
“You’ll take Wesley home?” she called, her heart in a bind.
“Of course,” he said, then lifted his hand in a little wave, and turned away.
36
Wesley noticed his hand was shaking when he twisted the doorknob to open the front door.
“How was your probation meeting?” Carlotta asked when he walked into the living room. She was lying on the couch, recuperating from the night before. His gut clenched when he thought of how badly the scene at Diamonds could have ended.
“Fine.”
“Did Eldora think this situation with the D.A. is going to affect your probation?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. She seems to think they might add on more time, maybe more community service.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“Yeah.” He set his backpack on the floor. “I just hope Coop gives me another chance.”
“I think he probably will,” she said, gingerly pushing herself up to a sitting position. “He seems like the kind of man who believes in second chances.”
“Coop’s a good man, isn’t he?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Do you think that Dad was a good man?”
Carlotta took her time answering. “I think there were some things about Dad that were very good. He was handsome and popular and he was good at his job. He made people laugh. He made people feel good.”
“But it’s not the same.” Now that he knew their dad cheated on their mom, Wes was starting to question a lot of things. If Randolph could justify his affair with Liz, maybe he could do the same for filching a few dollars from the firm.
“Is something on your mind?” Carlotta asked.
“I’m just starting to think that you were right—that our father is no good and has no intention of coming back to clear his name.”
“I never said he was no good.”
“No, but it’s what you’ve always thought, and I don’t blame you. How could he not let us know all this time that Mom’s all right?”
Wes watched his sister struggle for an answer, and in that moment, he despised his father for putting her through everything she’d endured.
“Come sit,” she said, pulling up her legs to make room on the couch. “I want to tell you something.”
Wesley sat, concerned about the serious tone of her voice.
“Part of the reason I went to Florida with Coop was because Dad’s fingerprints were found at a hotel in Daytona that had been robbed.”
His heart jumped. “What? When did this happen?”
“Just before we left. Jack told me about it. He was going down to investigate. I wanted to go, but he said no. When Coop asked me to ride along with him, it seemed like the perfect chance to look around myself.”
“So you went to the hotel when we were in Daytona?”
“Yes, and I should’ve told you. You had a right to know. I guess I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up. And frankly, I was afraid he was the person who had robbed the hotel.”
“Did you or Jack find anything?” Or Liz. Wesley realized that she’d known all along and hadn’t told him, either. No wonder she’d missed the file he’d stolen—she was probably adding new material.
“No, we didn’t find anything. But…” Carlotta moistened her lips. “But when we stopped at the rest area on the way back home, Randolph came up to me at the vending machines and started talking.”
Wes jumped off the couch. “Dad? Dad just came up to you and started talking?”
“Yeah. He was in disguise, but it was him.”
“Where was I?”
“Guarding the van,” she said dryly.
He jumped around the living room excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you yell for me?”
She looked away, then back. “I asked if I could, but he didn’t want me to.”
He stopped jumping. “He didn’t want to talk to me?”
“He said not yet.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said he’d been keeping tabs on us.”
“How’s Mom? Did he mention Mom?”
“He said she’d been…sick…off and on.”
“But she’s okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s he been doing? Where do they live?”
“All he would say is that he’s been gathering evidence to prove his innocence, and that he’d contact us again soon. We didn’t even get to say goodbye. When all hell broke loose, he just vanished.”
Wesley clapped his hands. “This is fantastic!”
She smiled, a genuine smile. “Yeah, it is.”
“I’m going to make a big dinner,” he said, pacing the room. “What sounds good?”
“Anything that I don’t make,” she said, laughing. “Surprise me.”
“You got it.”
She winced. “But first—do me a favor? Get a Percocet for me out of the bottle on my bedroom dresser?”
“Sure thing.”
Wesley loped into her room, so happy he couldn’t even be mad at Carlotta for not telling him sooner. She had her reasons. He picked up the prescription bottle and glanced at it to make sure it was Percocet. Then he noticed the refills: two. He unscrewed the cap and removed one of the six tablets for Carlotta…and two for himself. One he swallowed, and one he stuck in his pocket.
It was just to celebrate, that’s all. It wasn’t as if he was hooked, like those celebrity morons…
37
“Breaking news in the continuing saga of the Kiki Deerling murder investigation.”
Carlotta turned up the volume.
“The medical examiner’s office in Atlanta, where the body was taken after it was exhumed for a full autopsy, is reporting that there were no traces of heroin or any other drug found in the young woman’s bloodstream at the time of her death. Repeating, there were no traces of heroin or any other drug in Kiki Deerling’s body.”
“Good for you, Kiki,” Carlotta murmured.
“The cause of death has been ruled asphyxiation by strangulation, the manner of death, homicide. Sources tell us that the D.A. in Palm Beach County, Florida, will be charging Kayla Deerling with her own sister’s murder. Kayla Deerling is also charged with the attempted murder of a woman who visited her Atlanta restaurant, a potential witness in this case, by sprinkling rat poison on the woman’s chocolate torte. And conspiracy to murder pop singer Matt Pearson, her sister’s ex-boyfriend, who reportedly witnessed Kiki’s murder.
“All this in the wake of not one, but two body-snatching schemes, one by Kiki Deerling’s publicist and a known Atlanta drug dealer to get rid of the body in an alleged attempt to thwart an autopsy, and one by Pearson himself in an alleged attempt to secure an autopsy to prove that Kiki was murder
ed. Folks, it’s going to take a long time to sort this one out. Stay tuned.”
“I don’t think so,” Carlotta said, then clicked off the TV. She stood and stretched, sighing at the pain that still sang out from different parts of her body. It would take a while for all the cuts and bruises to heal, but at least her arm hadn’t been broken again.
At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, she went to the window. Peter had said he might stop by on his lunch hour—to talk. Two words that always put a crimp on her intestines.
But instead of Peter’s Porsche, it was Jack’s sedan. Her double-crossing heart gave a little lift. Jack emerged from the car and she opened the front door, smiling widely. Damn, did he have to look so devilishly handsome today?
“Hello, Detective.”
“Hello. Good to see you up and about.”
“I’m a fast healer. I should be back to work in a few days.”
“That’s very good news,” he said matter-of-factly. “Because the more vacation you take, the more work I have to do.”
“You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, Detective. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He climbed the steps to stand on the stoop, then held up a piece of paper. “One phone tap, cancelled.”
She frowned and looked at the paper. “But is it my phone tap that was cancelled?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No more than you trust me,” she said, verifying the phone number and signatures before she gave him a smile. “Thank you.”
He turned and walked back down the stairs. “You’re welcome.”
“Is that a new suit, Detective?”
He shrugged. “Uh, you know, just something hanging in the back of my closet.”
“Looks nice,” she said. “And the tie—not bad.”
“Thanks.” As he approached the car, the passenger door opened and a woman stood up.
In a word, she was stunning. Tall, slim, killer curves, and bushels of wavy caramel-colored hair around a heart-shaped face. “Jack, we just got a call over the radio. We need to get back.”
“Okay,” he said, then turned. “By the way, Carlotta, meet Detective Maria Marquez, my new partner.”
“Nice to meet you,” Maria said, then disappeared back into the car before Carlotta could form a sensible word.
Jack gave an extra little wave, then climbed into the car and backed out of the driveway.
Carlotta was still standing there several minutes later when Peter pulled into the driveway. Lift, heart, lift, she commanded.
“Wow, standing at the door. I hope that means you’re happy to see me,” Peter said when he walked up.
“That’s exactly what it means,” she said brightly. “Come in. Do you want some iced tea?”
He checked his watch as he walked into the living room. “Actually, I need to get back to the office ASAP.”
“Okay. Sit down. What did you want to talk about?”
Peter hesitated, then smoothed his hands over his knees. “Well, you know I’ve been traveling to New York a lot recently.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been offered an assignment there. If I take it, I’ll be moving to Manhattan for a year.”
Her heart started to beat faster.
“To be honest, I don’t want to leave,” he said. “But I also don’t want to stay in Atlanta and not be with you.”
“Peter, what are you saying?”
He reached for her hands, folding them into his. “I’m asking you to give me something concrete to go on here. I want us to start dating. I want to see you several times a week, heck, maybe even a couple of times a day. I want you to sleep over.”
She waited, her vital signs clicking higher.
“You asked for space,” he said. “And if you still need more time, then I’ll go to New York. I’d rather stay here…but it’s up to you. Just say the word.”
Stay close to Peter…he’s in a position at the firm to help me…I need him…he’s the only person there I can trust…then we’ll all be together again.
She was torn down to her soul. She did want more time to sort through her feelings for Peter, but how could she do that if he was in New York? And what about the other two men bouncing around in her heart?
But her father had said he would contact her through Peter, and that wouldn’t happen if Peter was out of town. And wasn’t reuniting their family the most important thing, for Wesley’s sake?
All she had to do was say the magic word.
“Carlotta? Tell me what you want me to do.”
She closed her eyes briefly, feeling as if she was making a deal with the devil—her own father. “Stay, Peter…stay.”
ISBN: 978-1-4603-1179-0
BODY MOVERS: 3 MEN AND A BODY
Copyright © 2008 by Stephanie Bond, Inc.
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