“Hello,” said a quiet, warm voice she recognized with a thrill.
“Coop?” she asked, stunned. She turned her back to Herb, her bodyguard. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Worried sick about you,” she whispered. “Where are you?”
A rueful noise sounded over the line. “I can’t tell you where I am, but I’m okay. A friend of mine died.”
“Sarah Edlow?”
“I see you’ve been keeping up with the media coverage. Yes, Sarah—the woman I almost killed because I was so drunk on my ass.”
“She recovered, Coop.”
“Only to get a brain tumor. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“No,” she agreed, marveling over how calm, how normal, he sounded in the wake of the accusations against him.
“I even wondered if something about her injuries, or the medicine she had to take because of them could’ve caused the tumor.”
“No one could know that,” she murmured.
“Still, after I was arrested, I started thinking all these horrible things were happening to me because of what I did to Sarah, like karma. Some part of me thought I deserved it.”
“But you didn’t kill those women, Coop.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She closed her eyes in abject relief just to hear him say the words. “Then why did you leave?”
“Because I promised Sarah I would do something for her, something she wasn’t able to do herself. I’ll be back tomorrow to face the music. And I’ll call Liz later, but I wanted to talk to you first. I miss your voice.”
Carlotta smiled into the phone, then looked up and saw Jack striding toward her.
“Jack’s here,” she whispered. “I have to go. Take care of yourself.” She replaced the receiver just as Jack walked up.
“Who was that to put such color in your cheeks?” Jack asked.
“Uh…it was Wes.” She clasped her shaking hands behind her back.
“How’s he doing?”
“Great, just great.” Then she angled her head. Jack had a sparkle in his eye. “Speaking of color in your cheeks…What’s up?”
“Well, it’ll be all over the news soon, but I thought you should be the first to know. This morning Rueben Garza confessed to Maria’s murder.”
She gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“No. We questioned him and it wasn’t long before his story fell apart. You were right—Maria must’ve known she was being stalked. I’m just sorry I wasn’t as astute as you were in picking up on it.”
“Jack, you can’t blame yourself.”
He pressed his lips together. “No. But I shouldn’t have blamed you, either. I’m sorry I lashed out.”
“I know you didn’t mean it. We were all grieving.”
He nodded, then he gave a little laugh and shook his head. “I feel like a cheesy TV pitch guy, but…wait, there’s more!”
She smiled. “What?”
From his pocket he removed a small plastic bag. In the corner was a square black chip, less than half the size of a postage stamp.
Carlotta squinted. “What is it?”
“A GPS chip found attached to the inside fender wall of Coop’s van.”
She covered her mouth with both hands.
“The van had already been processed,” he said. “The chip would’ve never been found if we hadn’t been looking for it.”
“So someone was keeping track of Coop’s movements?”
“Absolutely. We don’t know who, but at least now we have a place to start. In light of Garza’s confession and this new evidence, the D.A. is reviewing the charges against Coop.”
She squealed with delight.
“That doesn’t mean you should let your guard down,” he warned. “Lane is still out there. I have some leads, but nothing definite. And now we have to find Coop, too, and convince him to turn himself in so we can get this all straightened out.” He smiled. “But since the state boys created this mess, I’m going to let them handle it.”
She considered telling Jack about Coop’s call, but decided that once Coop called Liz, it would all get sorted out.
Jack returned the chip to his pocket and grinned. “Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”
She shook her head. “No. Thank you for believing me, Jack.”
He reached forward and picked up a lock of her hair, his pet gesture when he wanted to say something. He fingered the strand, rubbing it between forefinger and thumb. “You are something, you know that?”
She didn’t respond, just soaked up his words and basked in the happiness of knowing that she’d helped Coop…and Maria.
He dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “So…are you all packed for Vegas?”
“Almost,” she said. “But I’m running low on underwear.”
“Wow, it’s a good thing you work in a department store,” he said with a little smile. “If I don’t see you again…have a safe trip.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”
He turned and walked away.
He was always walking away, she realized.
But she refused to be the least bit sad about anything. She finished her shift, said goodbye to Herb, and stopped to pick up the rest of the dry cleaning for her trip. Then she drove home listening to the radio as news broke that split The Charmed Killer case wide open and sent reporters scrambling.
When she got home, she pulled the dry cleaning from her car. One of the bags contained the bathing suit that Hannah had worn in the hot tub. Carlotta decided to write Hannah’s name on the garment bag so she’d always have a suit when she came over.
And just like that, Carlotta realized that she was planning on staying at Peter’s home for a while.
When she walked into the house, she grabbed the key to the pool house and kept going, out onto the patio, past the pool, sorting through her mail that had been forwarded to Peter’s address. Bills, bills, bills.
She sighed, juggled envelopes and the garment bag as she unlocked the door to the pool house. She walked in and went directly to the changing room, where she hung the suit in the armoire. When she turned around, she stopped and frowned. Something was out of place.
Her gaze landed on a picture propped up on the vanity. A picture of her, taken by Michael at an employee party. It was the same photo that he’d swiped from the bulletin board in her bedroom when he’d hidden in the townhouse under their noses.
And he’d been hiding right under her nose again, here in the pool house. Terror seized her. She should’ve given in to the urge to check the closet the other day for Angela’s lingerie and props. Although, if she had, Hannah might have gotten hurt.
She turned to run, but Michael Lane stood in the doorway, newly blond, dressed in chinos and a dress shirt, as if he were going to work. Strangely, though, his pants pockets bulged—perhaps with coins? In his hand he held what looked like a surgical knife, probably the same one he’d escaped with from the mental ward of the hospital.
She screamed and backed up to the wall.
Michael looked confused. “Why would you scream? No one can hear you.”
Carlotta found her voice. “You startled me, Michael, that’s all.”
He laughed. “You should see the look on your face. You look like all those other women.”
He was completely mad. His eyes were vacant, darting. “Wh-what other women?”
“All those women whose pictures are on TV,” he said. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said, then grimaced. “I’m really sorry about a lot of things. I wasn’t a very good friend to you, Carlotta.”
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “We can work this out. Why don’t you let me call someone?” She reached into her purse.
“No!” he shouted, holding the knife blade toward her. “It’s too late for that. They’re looking for me, did you know?”
“They want you to get help, Michael.”
“No, they want to kill me in a dozen different ways
.”
Carlotta wet her lips. “Is that what you were doing, Michael? Killing women in a dozen different ways?”
He looked up and squinted. “I was always smarter than people gave me credit for, Carlotta. And charming. I was so charming, wasn’t I?”
Her throat convulsed. “Yes, Michael…you’ve always been charming. And helpful.” She shifted to shove her hand deeper into her purse. “I didn’t get to thank you for all the things you did around the townhouse to help out.”
He looked confused, then he nodded. “What did I do?”
“You know—laundry, running the dishwasher, that kind of thing.”
“Oh…right. I thought it was the least I could do since you allowed me to live there.”
“And you got rid of the fire ants in our yard,” she said, curling her fingers around the baton.
He frowned. “No. I don’t like ants.” Then he pointed the knife at her. “Hey, stop talking. You’re trying to mess with me. You’re trying to get me sent to prison for the rest of my life.”
“No, I’m not, Michael.”
“Yes, you are!” he shouted. “You were going to testify against me, say that I tried to hurt you.”
“You did hurt me, Michael. Remember, you threw me over the balcony of the Fox Theater?”
“That was self-defense. What else was I supposed to do?” He stepped closer, holding the blade. “You can fix things. You can tell the police I didn’t mean to kill those women, but I had to.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell them whatever you want, Michael. Just put down the knife.”
He looked at the weapon, then up at her again. “You’re trying to trick me.” He lunged toward her and she pulled out the baton. She groped for the button, and was able to make contact with a zzzzt just as he stabbed at her. His body stiffened and the knife fell. Then he dropped to the floor.
As he lay there twitching, Carlotta dissolved in sobs. She reached for the phone and fumbled with the buttons until Jack’s number popped up. She pushed Send, and he answered on the second ring.
“Did you decide to gloat after all?” he asked.
Her teeth chattered. “J-Jack…J-Jack…”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instantly serious. “Where are you?”
“P-Peter’s p-pool house. It’s Michael…it was Michael…”
“Stay on the phone. I’m coming.”
30
If they had any questions about Michael’s guilt, it was put to rest by the contents of his pockets—handfuls of charms of all kinds.
Carlotta stood inside the house, looking out the sliding glass door, watching Michael being hauled away on a gurney. He was handcuffed and shackled—the authorities weren’t taking any chances this time. Rainie Stephens stood nearby, directing a photographer to get the photos needed for the exclusive Carlotta had promised her.
“Are you sure you’re up to giving a statement?” Jack asked.
Carlotta turned and nodded. “I want to get this over with.” She retraced her story and her steps for Jack as he took notes. When she was finished, he put away the notebook. “When you get back from your trip, we might have a few more questions for you.”
“Of course. But you’ve got enough to hold him, don’t you?”
“Yes. And I finally picked up a lead on one of the parts for the explosive that was planted under your car. If it tracks back to Lane, we’ll have more federal charges to file. If the man is sane, I’d say he’s looking at the needle for sure.”
“He didn’t seem sane to me. He was confused, as if he couldn’t tell the difference between what was real, and what was happening on television.”
Jack grunted. “Then he’ll probably be institutionalized for the rest of his life.”
“But why would Michael want to frame Coop? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know. If Maria were here, I’m sure she could help us understand.”
Carlotta stepped back to the sliding glass door and looked out on the pool house. A CSI team was processing the building. She couldn’t help feeling that something wasn’t right, but she reasoned that everything would be explained as Michael relayed details of the crimes. It would still be a long time before the city felt normal again.
Jack came to stand behind her. “What a day, huh?”
She hugged herself. “Yeah, what a day.”
He reached up and pulled her hair over one shoulder. “Carlotta, about your trip…”
She looked back at him. “What, Jack?”
He moved up behind her and wrapped one arm around her. “Don’t go,” he whispered hoarsely.
She closed her eyes as emotions coursed through her. She swallowed hard. “Don’t go…or stay here with you, Jack? It’s two different things.”
He pulled back and she could sense his emotional retreat. It would always be that way with Jack, hot and cold. Down the hall, the sound of the front door bursting open broke the silence.
“Carly?” came Peter’s frantic voice.
She and Jack moved in opposite directions as Peter strode into the room and pulled her into his arms.
“Are you okay?” He leaned back and cupped her face. “I can’t believe I almost lost you. I love you so much.” He held her tight and rocked her back and forth, murmuring little contented sounds.
This was the man she could count on, she realized, the man who wanted her so much, he wasn’t afraid to let the world know. “I love you, too,” she said.
When she opened her eyes, she caught a flash of resignation of Jack’s face just before he turned to go.
31
Wes sighed and stared at the clock on the wall. Was the damn thing even working? It had been five minutes til noon for what seemed like over an hour now. Christ, with Meg gone on vacation, his time at ASS did seem like a sentence.
“When does Meg get back?” Jeff Spooner asked.
Ravi Chopra paused in his keyboarding. “Yeah. Do you know, Wes?”
Wes looked at the guys who shared the workstation, equal parts sorry for them and irritated with them. He wanted to say, “She’s mine, losers, back off.” But he understood where they were coming from. Meg had them all tied up in knots.
“It’s only been two days, guys. She’ll be back next Monday.” He was reassuring himself as much as them. Wes pushed to his feet and grabbed his backpack. “I’m outta here.”
As he exited the building, his cell phone rang. He reached for it, hoping it was Meg. Instead, Liz Fischer’s name came up on the screen. He winced, but he had to answer it. They’d been playing phone tag because she’d been so busy taking care of Coop’s case since it had blown up in the D.A.’s toady face.
“Hey, Liz.”
“Hi, Wes. Is this a good time to talk?”
“Sure,” he said, walking toward the bike rack. Mouse would be there soon to pick him up. “How’s Coop?”
“Good,” she said. “The initial charges have been dropped, and I’m pretty sure I can get the fugitive charges dropped, too. It’s going to take a while to get everything sorted out, but Coop seems to have a champion on the staff of the AJC. We have interview requests from all the networks. Everyone’s backpedaling, trying to repair the damage to Coop’s reputation. I think he’s going to come out of this on top.”
Wes grinned. “That’s great news.” Carlotta had been right about Coop all along…and right about Wes getting clean. “Uh, Liz…I need a favor.”
“Shoot.”
He told her about the blood test taken the previous week at his probation meeting. “I’m not going to lie to you—I know it tested positive for Oxy. But I went through detox over the weekend, and I’m clean. I was hoping you could talk to my probation officer and arrange for me to take another blood test when I go in tomorrow.”
“Ah, so that’s why I have three messages from your probation officer. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
His shoulders fell. “Thanks, Liz, you’re the best.”
“Wes, there are a couple of other thi
ngs I need to talk to you about.”
“Okay.” The black Town Car pulled up and Mouse threw up his hand in a wave. Wes waved back and held up a finger to indicate he’d be a minute. He was still amazed at what the big man had done for him.
“I got a call from Jack Terry this morning,” Liz said. “He wants to know why your fingerprints are on an anonymous note the APD received listing possible names identifying a headless corpse in the county morgue.”
Wes’s stomach dropped to his knees. “Uh…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, well, Jack wants to meet with us as soon as possible to get this all straightened out.”
Holy crap. Anything he said now would incriminate Mouse…and how could he do that after what the man had done for him? He glanced up and Mouse nodded. Wes stiffly nodded back, offering a weak smile.
“And…there is one more thing,” Liz said. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this over the phone, but here goes. I’m pregnant.”
Wes’s stomach, still dangling at his knees, fell to his ankles. Bright spots obscured his vision. Too bad the starbursts couldn’t erase the memory of standing in Liz’s bathroom after they’d had sex a few weeks ago, staring down at a busted condom.
Wes opened his mouth to say something…anything. Instead, he fainted.
32
Carlotta walked up the stairs, holding her cell phone to one ear. “Peter, I’ll just put your suitcase in my rental car. That way you won’t have to come by the house before going to the airport.”
“If you don’t mind getting it from my bedroom, that would save me a trip,” Peter admitted. “I didn’t expect this meeting to run so long.”
“We still have plenty of time,” she said. “I’ll check our bags curbside under my ticket, then I’ll turn in the rental car, and meet you at the gate.”
“Sounds good. Are you leaving now?”
“In a few minutes. I want to stop by the townhouse and get a few things I didn’t bring with me.”
“Sounds intriguing,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to get you alone in Vegas.”
She smiled into the phone. “We’re going to have fun. See you in a bit.”
Carlotta ended the call and at the top of the stairs, she turned toward the double doors leading to Peter’s bedroom. She walked in, always impressed by the opulence of this room, a master suite in every sense of the word, with custom furniture, inlaid wood floors, and every amenity imaginable, from the flat-screen TV on one wall to the heated massage chaise in the spa-quality bathroom.
6 Killer Bodies Page 23
