Liz leaned forward. “It’s not familiar to me, Jack. What are we looking at?”
“The APD received this anonymous note a few days ago. On one side it reads ‘Decapitated man in county morgue,’ and on the other side it reads ‘Crosby Newell or maybe Croswell Newton.’ And then ‘Newt Crossen’ with a question mark.”
“And what do you make of it?” Liz asked mildly.
“That the person who sent the note was offering up the identity of the headless John Doe in the morgue.”
Liz pursed her lips. “Looks like two different handwritings to me.”
Jack nodded. “But only one set of prints—Wes’s.”
“That doesn’t mean he sent the note.”
“It’s a self-sealing envelope, but we can have the stamp checked for DNA.” Jack looked at Wes. “Why don’t you save the taxpayers some money and just tell us what we already know—that you sent the note.”
Wes glanced at Liz and she gave a little nod.
“Okay, I sent the note,” he said on an exhale. “But I didn’t kill the guy.”
“Who did?” Jack asked.
Liz put her hand on Wes’s arm. “My client doesn’t know.”
“He clearly has some knowledge of the crime,” Salyers said.
Liz smiled. “Wes occasionally works for the county morgue as a body mover, so he knew about the John Doe. He also knew the body had a tattoo that had been lasered off. He decided to play detective and found someone who thought they recognized the tattoo. Those were the names his source gave him.” She glanced back to Jack. “Have you been able to identify the body?”
Jack nodded. “His name is Croswell Newton.”
“Ah, so the tip actually helped. The way I see it, instead of treating Wesley like a criminal, you should be giving him some sort of medal.”
Jack gave her a flat little smile. “Maybe we will. Especially if he’s the anonymous phone tipster.”
Wes frowned. “Huh?”
“The anonymous phone tipster who told us he knew who had committed the murder.”
Wes’s heartbeat began to pound in his head. “I didn’t make the call.”
“Are you sure? Think about it...because if it was you, then I would assume you weren’t involved. But if it wasn’t you, then I might be forced to put you on the suspect list.”
Wes’s mind raced as he chewed on his nails. If this phone tipster knew who did it, maybe the guy would give the police what they needed, and he’d be off the hook. Because while he’d hate to see Mouse get locked up, at least it wouldn’t be because Wes had snitched on him.
“Give me and my client a chance to confer,” Liz said.
“I’m not the phone tipster,” he blurted. “But I didn’t have anything to do with the murder—I swear.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “Then maybe you can corroborate some of the details the caller gave us.”
Wes shrugged. “I’ll try.”
“He said he has the jacket the perp was wearing when he committed the murder. He said the victim’s blood is all over it. Do you know anything about that?
Wes felt faint...it was his jacket, complete with his monogram inside. He could explain that he’d left it in the trunk of Mouse’s car and when he’d later tried to retrieve it, had found a severed finger wrapped inside and had thought better. But who would believe that? He gave Liz a panicked look.
“This interview is over,” Liz said, pushing to her feet. “My client has told you everything he knows. Come on, Wes, let’s get out of here.”
“This isn’t over,” Jack said.
Liz smirked. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Jack.”
Wes followed her out of the interview room, feeling numb. How had things gotten so screwed up?
“Liz, I—”
“I have to find a bathroom.”
He knew that look—she was about to hurl. He trotted along behind her and when she rushed into the ladies’ room, he stood by the door awkwardly.
“Everything okay here?”
Wes turned his head to see Jack standing there. What an asshole. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Liz had to go...you know women.”
From inside the bathroom came the distinct sound of retching.
“I think she mentioned she’s coming down with the flu,” Wes said to cover. “You really need some of those hand sanitation stations around here.”
Jack frowned. “I’ll get right on that. Listen, Wes, if you know who offed the Newton guy and it’s one of The Carver’s soldiers, you need to tell me. The D.A. didn’t put you undercover to be an accessory to murder.”
Wes shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The door opened and Liz emerged, white-faced and sucking on a breath mint.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
She managed a smile. “Too much wine with dinner last night, I guess. Walk me out, Wes? I know you have to get to your community service job.”
“Right,” he said glumly. He fell in step next to her. “Liz, I—”
“Not a word about anything until we get outside.”
He obeyed, miserably keeping up as she click-clacked her way through the Midtown precinct on high, pointy heels. Scenarios regarding the headless man raced through his head, and none of them were reassuring. Mouse had once reminded him his blood-stained jacket had been retained as incentive to keep his mouth shut...was Mouse planning to throw him under the bus?
They exited the building under dark, cloudy skies that reflected his mood.
“Now,” Liz said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m totally innocent.”
She gave him a dubious look.
“Okay, I’m mostly innocent.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, Wes, what have you gotten yourself into now?”
“I didn’t kill that guy. But I kind of helped to cover up his identity.”
She frowned. “How?”
“Um...by pulling the teeth out of his decapitated head.”
She brought her hand up to her mouth and swallowed hard.
“But I swear, when I got the head it was already separated from the body.”
Her throat convulsed. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have back to back appointments all day.” She headed toward the entrance, briefcase swinging. “By the way, one of the meetings is with the D.A. and Carlotta.”
He frowned. “Carlotta? Why?”
“Allegedly, it’s to wrap up The Charmed Killer case. But she asked me to sit in because she’s afraid the D.A. will ask about Randolph.”
He pulled a hand over his face. “She knows about the baby.”
Liz’s eyes widened. “You told her?”
“No...it’s a long story, but she knows, okay?”
Liz looked as if she were going to be sick—again. “Okay, well, it was bound to come out sooner or later. But the timing seems especially bad with your father being back.”
“Did you tell him about the baby?”
“Of course not. Not that I’ve talked to him lately.”
“I thought inmates were allowed to see their lawyers whenever they want to.”
“Generally, yes, although there are limits. But...”
“What?”
She wet her lips. “Your father refuses to see me.”
Wes frowned. “Has he hired another attorney?”
“No, he says he still wants me to represent him, but he just doesn’t want to talk.”
He was stunned—and confused. “But where does that leave me...and Carlotta?”
“Frustrated, I know. Be patient. He’ll come around, you’ll see.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”
“By the way, you’re not drinking, are you?”
“What?”
“You told Jack you might’ve had too much wine with dinner.”
She frowned. “No, Wesley, I’m not drinking. It was the first excuse I could think of.” Then she smiled. “But it’s nice that you’re concern
ed.”
Something warm unfolded in his chest. “Of course I’m concerned. I’m in this, too.” He pulled his hand over his mouth. “I’m going to get my life together, I promise. You won’t be alone.”
Liz looked almost...teary? “Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner?”
He’d been planning to cook dinner for Carlotta and try to make up for being a general pain in her ass, but he had new priorities now. He was going to be there for the baby, which meant being there for Liz, too. “Okay...as long as you let me cook.”
She smiled and nodded. “Deal.”
Wes walked to his bike feeling marginally better about things...but the feeling didn’t last long. In fact, by the time he rode up in front of the building that housed Atlanta Security Systems, mockingly referred to as ASS, he was nauseous. Meg would be there and bouncing around as if everything was right with the world, thinking they were a couple and expecting them to go to movies and to the zoo and shit.
He walked into the building and endured the security line and metal detector.
The depressing thing was he wanted to go with Meg to the movies and to the zoo and shit.
He stepped onto the elevator with a morose crowd and punched the number for his floor.
But what was done was done.
When the doors opened to his floor, he almost lost his nerve. He could leave and call in sick, and handle this situation with Meg tomorrow. Or tonight, on the phone.
No, a text would do. Yeah...
“This your floor?” a bored, heavyset guy asked.
“Changed my mind,” Wes said, then pushed a button to close the doors.
“There you are.”
A flowered sleeve reached in and the doors bounced back open to reveal Meg Vincent in all her girly, bohemian glory. Her hair was bright and sun-streaked, her skin was tan and glowing, and her smile was like the Aruban sun.
“If you don’t go,” the guy next to him muttered, “I will.”
Wes stumbled out and managed to smile. “Hey.”
“I was getting worried about you. I tried to call a couple of times.”
“I...had an appointment I couldn’t get out of.” He walked past her and headed down a hallway toward their work station. “Is McCormick pissed?”
She followed him. “No.”
“Are Ravi and Jeff working on the human resources firewall?”
Suddenly he came up short, his head snapping back from the abrupt yank from behind. “Ow!” He contorted to see Meg had a handful of his backpack. “What the hell?”
Her expression was thunderous. “Yes...what the hell? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been gone for a while. I missed you...and I kind thought you were missing me.”
He’d missed everything about her—the way she wouldn’t use a pencil unless it was perfectly sharp, and the way she twirled her hair when she was deep in thought, and the way she sighed into his mouth when he kissed her.
“Things have changed since you left.”
She frowned. “What things?”
He glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them. “My father is back.”
Her eyes flew wide, then a grin split her face. “But that’s great news!”
He nodded, then said, “Except he was taken into custody.”
“But you’ve talked to him, right? And is your mother back too?”
“No...and no.” Then he sighed. “Look, I can’t really talk about it here.”
“Okay...let’s have dinner.”
His throat ached from wanting to scream yes. Instead he said, “I already have plans.”
“Okay, how about lunch? Ravi and Jeff will be upset if we ditch them, but—”
“I can’t.” He hated the little furrow of hurt between her eyes, so he kept talking. “This thing with my dad is taking up all my time because...he asked for my help to prove his innocence.”
“Really? That’s—wait, I thought you said you hadn’t talked to him.”
He nodded. “That’s...right. But he’s been sending me messages...in code.”
“How?”
“Uh...through another guy who’s in lockup with him...by way of a buddy of mine.”
“Wow, that’s...wow.”
He nodded solemnly. “So you see, I’m too busy for movies and the zoo and shit.”
She squinted. “Hm?”
“I don’t have time for...you know, dating and stuff. I have more important things to do.”
She bobbed her head. “Of course you do. Have you found anything in the database dump that might give you some idea of what the state has against your dad?”
“I’m still going through the files. It’s a lot to wade through.”
“But I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.”
He shook his head. “I have to do this alone.”
“No, you don’t.” She reached forward to squeeze his arm. “Wes, don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“I love you, silly.”
His jaw loosened, allowing his mouth to fall open. Meg was everything in the world he wanted. With her by his side, he could accomplish anything...and he would move heaven and earth to make her happy.
She laughed. “Well? Say something.”
He had to stop this train now, tell her another woman was having his baby. Meg would be dismayed and likely would never speak to him again, and it would reinforce everything her father already thought about him. But no matter the consequence, it had to be said. And since his mouth was conveniently open, he pushed out the words.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-four
CARLOTTA ARRIVED EARLY for the lunchtime meeting with Kelvin Lucas, so she decided to sneak a cigarette to calm her nerves. Since the government building was a nonsmoking facility, she stood under a tree in the parking lot and sucked on the cancer stick until her cheeks went concave.
She really needed to quit smoking.
Later...after her life settled down.
Of course, she might be dead by then from old age.
“I thought that was you,” Liz Fischer said, walking up in her Albert Nipon skirt suit and Gucci shoes.
The woman had such a great sense of style, Carlotta almost hated to hate her. “It’s me,” she said with forced cheer. “Thanks for coming.”
Liz nodded, but when the smoke from Carlotta’s cigarette drifted in front of her, she waved it away and looked a little green.
Carlotta shifted to shield the smoke, then smirked. “A little afternoon morning sickness?”
Liz pressed her lips together. “Wesley told me you know about the baby.”
“Yep.”
“I’m sure you’re not happy about it.”
“Nope.”
“I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“And yet, it did.” She turned her head to exhale in the opposite direction—her niece or nephew was going to have enough problems without her secondhand smoke in utero. “How is this supposed to play out, Liz? You must know that Wes can’t even take care of himself, much less a child.”
“It’s not ideal,” Liz agreed. “But we’ll figure it out. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this as quiet as possible, for all our sakes.”
“Isn’t it against some ethical code to sleep with your client? Oh, but wait—you did that with Randolph already, didn’t you? Same song, different instrument.”
Liz didn’t respond.
“By the way, how is dear old Dad? He must be busy since he hasn’t gotten around to sending out that invitation for his children to visit him.”
“All I know is he’s well. Your father refuses to see even me now.”
“Does he know you’re pregnant?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you know why he’s in solitary confinement?’
Liz blinked. “Who told you that?”
“That doesn’t matter. Did he do something wrong?”
Liz sighed. “I’m going to tell you, but you can’t t
ell anyone—not Wes, and not Jack.”
Carlotta frowned. “I won’t tell Wes. And Jack and I don’t...share things...anymore.”
Liz registered that tidbit with an arched brow, then said, “Apparently, a relative of one of Randolph’s clients is housed in USP.”
Understanding dawned. “Randolph is in danger.”
“The warden thought there was enough of a threat to move your father into solitary confinement for his own protection.”
“But he takes meals with this man who might hurt him?”
“There’s some kind of disruption in the food service at the prison. I’m told it will be resolved soon and Randolph will take his meals in solitary. Meanwhile, he says he’s not ready to talk...to anyone.”
Carlotta stooped to snub out her cigarette on a rock. “Randolph is still in control.”
“Yes,” Liz murmured. “When you care about someone, they have the power to control you.”
“Did you hear about Walt Tully?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with Randolph’s return?”
“I couldn’t say.”
A finger of suspicion trailed up Carlotta’s neck. Liz couldn’t say...or wouldn’t say? She studied Liz’s cool, detached demeanor. She could see why men were attracted to her—she was gorgeous and as aloof as a cat. It was impossible to pinpoint where her loyalties lay.
Carlotta had the feeling that Liz could play all sides.
She glanced at her watch. “Let’s get this interview over with. I need to get back to work.”
“How are things at Neiman’s?”
“Actually, I’m working the Wedding World Expo this week.”
“And how’s that?”
“Surrounded by thousands of women planning their happily ever after? Just peachy.”
Liz smiled. “You don’t ever think of marriage?”
Carlotta squirmed over the personal turn of the conversation. “I guess I haven’t ruled it out.”
“I gathered you and Peter Ashford had become an item.”
“Peter and I have history. But we’ve decided to take a break until this situation with Randolph is resolved.”
“Oh, that’s right—he works for Randolph’s old firm.”
“Yes.”
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