6 Killer Bodies

by Stephanie Bond

  “Is this Carlotta?”

  Her mind raced to identify the man’s thick country accent. “Yes.”

  “This is Kendall Abrams.”

  The Chief M.E.’s hick nephew. “Yes, Kendall, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m trying to reach Wes, but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where he is.”

  The young man emitted a groan and she pictured him hitting himself on the head. “We’re really shorthanded at the morgue. I’m on a commercial pickup now, but I have a residential job after this one, and those are the ones my uncle says I suck at. Can you try to find Wes for me?”

  Carlotta pursed her mouth and glanced across the patio to Hannah, who looked bored to death. “My friend Hannah and I could give you a hand.”

  From the silence on the other end, she could tell that wasn’t Kendall’s first—or second—choice.

  “Or not,” she sang. “You probably have other experienced body movers who are available at a moment’s notice.”

  Kendall sighed. “Okay. I’ll meet you there.” He gave her an address in west Atlanta. “It’s a blue house. Iffen you get there first, tell my uncle I’m on my way.”

  Hannah needed no coaxing. They were out of their suits and into dry clothes in a matter of minutes. Carlotta left a note for Peter in case he came home before they returned, then they clambered into Hannah’s van and sped off. It took them thirty minutes to pick their way across town through traffic, but once they got into the newly developed neighborhood, they found the house easily, due to the number of flashing lights and official vehicles.

  “Oh, shit,” Carlotta muttered. “This looks serious. There’s a GBI van…and Jack’s car.”

  “Did the goober nephew tell you what had happened?”

  “No, and I didn’t think to ask.”

  Hannah glanced at her side mirror. “There’s a TV news van behind us.”

  Carlotta’s heart sped up. “Maybe The Charmed Killer has struck again. God, I hope not. But if so, it’s good for Coop since he’s home under surveillance.”

  Hannah pulled up to the police-car perimeter, and they presented their morgue IDs. Carlotta recognized the uniformed officer as the same cop who’d spilled his guts while she’d borrowed a light from him on a former murder scene. He recognized her, too, and waved them in. The news van behind them wasn’t afforded the same treatment.

  The tidy blue house was lit up like a torch. As soon as Hannah brought the van to a halt, Carlotta slid out and approached the residence, looking for a familiar face. Suddenly a man appeared in the open front door—Jack. From the haggard look on his face, she knew The Charmed Killer had taken another victim. He moved woodenly down the steps of the home. She hurried toward him. “Jack?”

  He looked up and when he saw her, pain descended on his face.

  “Jack, what happened?”

  His jaw hardened and he seemed to be struggling to maintain control. “It’s Maria. She’s dead.”

  Horror knifed through Carlotta’s heart as she realized this was Detective Marquez’s home. She covered her mouth. “Oh, no. Jack…how?”

  His face contorted. “That sick bastard. He drowned her in the bathtub. Held her down by her neck.”

  “The Charmed Killer?”

  He nodded, his expression bleak.

  She put her hand on his arm. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”

  His phone rang and he strode away a few steps to answer it.

  Carlotta felt nauseous. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of a senseless act. Had The Charmed Killer targeted Maria because she had profiled him? Other than the Assistant District Attorney, no one else had been associated with the case, and the A.D.A.’s only distant connection had been that she was an officer of the court. All the other victims had seemed random. Was The Charmed Killer changing his pattern?

  Chief Medical Examiner Bruce Abrams and M.E. Pennyman stood at the top of the steps conversing. Pennyman held up a small clear plastic bag under a light. From her vantage point, it looked like an evidence bag. Suddenly a gust of summer wind tore it out of his hand. Both men lunged for the bag, but it tumbled down the steps and landed practically at Carlotta’s feet. As she picked it up, she identified the contents—a silver charm, probably the one taken from Maria Marquez’s mouth. Through the plastic she saw it was a tiny lipstick.

  The bag was plucked out of her hands and when she looked up, Dr. Abrams was standing there, a frown on his pinched face. “Why are you here? Where’s my nephew?”

  Carlotta drew back at the man’s sharp tone, but reasoned everyone was under a tremendous amount of stress, and having key evidence blowing around the crime scene would make anyone testy.

  “Kendall called me, saying he needed a hand,” she explained. “He was on another call and asked me to tell you he’d be here shortly.”

  Dr. Abrams made an exasperated noise, then gave her a curt nod and rejoined Pennyman at the top of the steps.

  At the sound of Jack’s raised voice, she glanced in his direction. He jammed his hand into his hair, obviously distraught, then he snapped the phone closed and stood stock still.

  “Jack?” She approached him slowly. “What now?”

  The raw emotion on his face tore through her. “Coop is missing.”

  Denial exploded in her brain. “How’s that possible? He’s wearing a GPS ankle bracelet.”

  “There’s a crowd demonstrating outside his place. A uniform stopped by to check in and found the GPS bracelet attached to a damned robotic vacuum. It was programmed to move around, so no one realized he was gone.” Jack fisted his big hands. “He killed Maria, and now he’s gone again.”

  Carlotta shook her head, but she couldn’t summon the words to defend Coop because she knew Jack didn’t want to hear them. And deep in her heart, she wondered if Coop had learned about the death of Sarah Edlow, and if the news had sent him over the edge.

  23

  Wes lay in the filthy green bathtub, wracked with pain. The scent of his own sweat and vomit permeated his nostrils. He wanted to scream, but didn’t have the energy. Merely blinking his eyes sent avalanches of agony through his head. His body needed Oxy…demanded it. And in the back of his mind, he knew the real torture hadn’t even begun.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed when the bathroom door opened, was barely conscious of being picked up and dragged. He was limp, unable to resist. He thought he was drooling because his mouth felt wet…but maybe he was crying.

  When he stopped moving, he became distantly aware of lying prone on a hard surface—the floor, maybe. And then, someone was pulling at him, tearing off his clothes. He was naked…freezing…his body shook violently. He had the sense of hours passing, or it could’ve been minutes.

  At some point he was picked up and set in a chair, then strapped down. He remembered the chair. It was where Mouse had held him while The Carver sliced his initials in Wesley’s arm. The pain was worse this time. He was stabbed again and again. Inside he screamed, but he wasn’t sure if he made a sound. Mercifully, he finally passed out.

  When he woke, he was being held under water. He clawed at the hands holding him and finally got his face above the surface. He choked, dragging air into his lungs, then was stabbed in the arm again. As he slid into unconsciousness, he came to the realization that he was probably being gutted in the bathtub. When the plug was pulled, his blood would go down the drain with the water. Then he’d be easier to cut up and dispose of.

  Carlotta would never know what happened to him. She’d think he simply abandoned her, like their father.

  And Meg…Oh, Meg…

  24

  The memorial service for Maria was held Friday afternoon. Carlotta went through the motions like an automaton. She was numb, afraid to let herself absorb too much of what was going on around her.

  The manhunt for Coop had gone nationwide. Rainie Stephens had come forth with the information she’d uncovered about Sarah Edlow’s terminal brain tumo
r and subsequent death, as well as the woman’s connection to Coop. With a possible trigger for his killing spree revealed, Coop had already been tried and convicted in the public’s eye. And since he wasn’t around to defend himself, it was getting harder for Carlotta to hang on to her faith in him.

  Just like with Randolph.

  Meanwhile, the fake article designed to smoke out Michael Lane had been cut, confirming to Carlotta that even Rainie was now convinced that Coop was their man and suggesting that Michael’s crimes weren’t shocking enough in the scheme of things to warrant attention. Granted, though, nearly every column inch of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution was devoted to covering the horrific new developments in The Charmed Killer case.

  The memorial service was solemn and inspirational. The minister spoke lovely words about Maria being a beautiful person inside and out. But Carlotta kept replaying in her mind the spiteful things she’d said to the woman to her face and behind her back. Maria hadn’t done anything except save Carlotta’s ungrateful butt a time or two, encourage her to get to know her friends better, and warn her about putting her trust in the wrong man. In fact, Maria’s only offense was looking better than any woman with a gun should, and turning Jack’s thick head.

  The casket was pearlized ivory with silver hardware—stunning. But when Carlotta looked at it, all she saw was Maria lying in her bathtub, dressed in a modest white cotton nightshirt, still wearing one fuzzy house shoe. The other shoe had been dislodged during the struggle, along with the shower curtain. The woman had been brushing her teeth when she was attacked. She had put up a fight, even broken two fingers defending herself. But with the element of surprise, and what appeared to be a considerable amount of strength, the killer had overpowered her.

  Carlotta sat in the balcony of the cathedral. The floor level was a sea of blue uniforms—hundreds of fellow police officers from all over the country had come to pay respects for their slain comrade. The visibility of the case coupled with the fact that now Coop had been labeled a cop killer pretty much guaranteed he would be shot on sight.

  Jack was sitting in the front row in his dress uniform, his back straight. His head never moved. She suspected he’d chosen a spot on the opposite wall to stare at during the ceremony, holding his gaze with laser focus. He hadn’t called when she’d returned home that awful night, nor last night. And she didn’t expect him to call tonight, either. He needed time alone to grieve and to beat himself up properly. Because regardless of what Maria had meant to him personally, Carlotta knew enough about Jack to know he was broken inside that he hadn’t protected his partner.

  The fact that he blamed Coop, someone he had once held in esteem, for Maria’s death undoubtedly only cut deeper.

  Near the end of the service, a tall dark-haired man dressed in a decorated police uniform walked to the casket and placed a single red rose on top. He looked grief-stricken, his shoulders bowed. He leaned over to kiss the casket and his sobbing could be heard throughout the cathedral.

  Carlotta assumed he was Maria’s ex-husband, Rueben Garza. She glanced at the In Memoriam card she’d taken from the stack at the entrance.

  In Memoriam, Maria Elena Marquez,

  a brave public servant, a loving companion

  Maria, full you are of grace

  Rueben Garza

  As far as she could tell, there were no other members of Maria’s family present.

  Was Rueben the man Carlotta had once overheard Maria talking to on the phone? Maria had told the person never to call her again. When Carlotta had asked Maria why she had moved to Atlanta, the detective had said she’d wanted a fresh start. Had Maria been trying to escape a bad situation? If so, how profoundly sad that the job she’d taken to save her had led to her death.

  A hand on Carlotta’s knee startled her, then she remembered with a mental shake that Peter had come with her. He gave her a reassuring smile and she moved closer to him.

  After the service, they filtered out of the church and walked hand in hand toward the parking lot. Since Wesley was still avoiding her, Peter had offered to take her by Chance’s to see if she could catch Wes and try to patch things up. But when she and Peter reached his SUV, to her surprise, Jack was waiting for them.

  He looked taller and broader in his uniform. His face was drawn in the afternoon sun and she wondered if he’d slept since Wednesday. He nodded to Peter. “Thank you both for coming.”

  “It was a nice service, Jack,” Carlotta offered quietly.

  “Yes, it was,” he agreed, then settled his gaze on her. “A word, Carlotta?”

  After a few tense seconds, Peter released her hand and gestured to the vehicle. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  Carlotta’s heart thumped against her breastbone. She waited until the SUV door closed with a thunk before lifting her gaze to Jack’s.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked.

  She swallowed. “About what?” There were just so many things he could be referring to.

  His mouth tightened. “This morning I went back to the bookstore where the first victim worked. Imagine my surprise when I interviewed the girl in the coffee shop and she told me about a woman with long, dark hair who came in last Saturday asking questions about the very same thing.”

  Her mouth went dry. “Jack, there are lots of women in this city with long, dark hair.”

  “And a gap between their front teeth?”

  She tongued the gap that had always plagued her. Darn it, she should’ve worn her retainer.

  “I can describe the shoes you were wearing if you want.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  Jack looked murderous. “Carlotta, I’m not in the mood to play games. Start talking.”

  She sighed. “Okay, so I went in and asked a few questions.”

  “And?”

  “And, I’m sure the girl told you what she told me—that Shawna Whitt had a bracelet with a charm on it shaped like a chicken. She said that Shawna was planning to join an online dating site, but didn’t have the chance. And she said that she hadn’t mentioned anyone bothering her.”

  “What else?”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “A guy at the information desk told me that Coop came into the store a couple of times a week. He identified his picture, and his white van.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s all.”

  A vein in his temple jumped. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “Because—”

  “Because it incriminated Coop?”

  She nodded.

  “Meanwhile, you ask me to run background checks on two random guys who give you the creeps? Which turned up nothing, by the way.” He crossed his arms and she had the feeling it was to keep from shaking her. “Do you realize that you withheld evidence we could’ve used? Now we know the Whitt woman had a charm bracelet, which wasn’t found in her home, and that the charm in her mouth came from her bracelet. That’s big. And we can prove that she and Coop had many opportunities to cross paths.”

  Carlotta remained silent.

  He gritted his teeth. “I should arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  Carlotta scoffed, outraged. “Last time I looked, Jack, I don’t work for the APD. I was a citizen asking questions on my own behalf. I wasn’t obligated to give you the information I uncovered.”

  “But if you had, maybe we could’ve connected more of the dots before the bail hearing. Maybe Coop wouldn’t have been released.” His jaw hardened. “And maybe Maria would still be alive.”

  Carlotta blinked back sudden tears. “You’re blaming me for her death?”

  Jack looked away and expelled a noisy sigh. When he glanced back, he seemed more calm. “No, I’m blaming Coop. But if you hadn’t been trying to protect him, things could’ve gone differently.” He leaned in closer. “Maria was right. You play detective to make up for the fact that your life is so screwed up. Why don’t you stop trying to fix everything else and get your own affairs
in order? And I do mean affairs.”

  Carlotta felt as if she’d been slapped.

  Jack straightened and remorse flashed in his eyes for a split second, then disappeared. He turned to go.

  “Jack.”

  He turned back and sighed. “What?”

  Her shoulders fell. “There’s something else I didn’t tell you.” She haltingly described visiting Shawna Whitt’s neighbor, telling him what the woman had said about seeing a white van in the neighborhood the day before Shawna had been found dead. “The neighbor’s name is Audrey Cole.”

  “Wait a minute—I talked to her.”

  “I know. But she said you didn’t ask the right questions.”

  Jack scowled. “Anything else?”

  She took a deep breath. “The prostitute Pepper told two of her friends that she was having trouble with one of her clients, a guy she called Doc. And…all of the charms up to Maria link back to Coop in some way.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Chicken coop, he smokes cigars, he’s into cars, he has a gun, he’s been in handcuffs, a barrel maker is a cooper, he’s a drinker, and he likes books.” She lifted her hands. “I don’t know how the lipstick fits in. Also, the charms weren’t purchased at any store in the Lenox Square Mall, the Perimeter Mall, or any jewelry store in the Buckhead zip code.”

  Jack seemed to have been struck speechless.

  The door to the SUV opened and Peter stepped out. “Sorry to interrupt, but Carlotta, Hannah’s on the phone. She says that Wesley is missing.”

  Carlotta’s heart jumped. “What?”

  “She’s called all around. He hasn’t been to work in two days. When he left his meeting with his probation officer Wednesday, someone saw him get into a black Town Car. No one’s seen him since.”

  Carlotta frowned. “That’s doesn’t make sense.” Then she gasped and turned to Jack. “Do you think this has anything to do with Coop?”

  Jack massaged the bridge of his nose. “Actually…no. I might know what this is about. Let me make some phone calls.” He looked at Peter. “Take Carlotta home. And tie her to something.”