Authors: Stephanie Bond
then, it’s come to my attention that my father knew Alicia
Sil s and, in fact…they might have had a relationship.”
Wick blinked. “How did this piece of information come to
your attention?”
She hugged herself. “My, um, boyfriend, Peter Ashford,
remembered going to work with my father once, years ago
when he was in high school. A woman delivering mail
came into Randolph’s office. Peter said it was obvious that
Randolph and this woman…knew each other wel . Peter
looked into old employment records and determined it
was Alicia Sil s.”
She could tel Wick hadn’t expected the curve. “Are you
now saying that you think your father might be involved in
these murders?”
“No. I’m just correcting information I gave you before
about a connection between my father and one of the
victims.”
“Peter Ashford,” Wick muttered. “That name sounds
familiar.”
“He works at Mashburn and Tul y. You interviewed the
employees there and asked them about my father?”
“Right,” Wick said, gesturing for Green to check their
notes. “So why didn’t Mr. Ashford let us know himself?”
“I asked him not to. I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“And now you do?”
“Now I’m just trying to demonstrate that you shouldn’t
lock in on Cooper Craft based on circumstantial evidence.”
“You needn’t involve yourself with the procedures of this
case, Ms. Wren. We’ve got that under control.”
Carlotta leaned forward, hands on the table. “If you’ve got
it under control, Agent Wick, then why am I tel ing you
things you don’t know?” She reached for her purse.
“Unless you have more questions, I’m leaving.” She started
toward the door.
“Ms. Wren.”
She turned back.
Wick wore a constipated expression, as if she’d messed up
his plans for the day. “You need to let us know if you’re
planning to leave town.”
“As a matter of fact, Agent, I am. Peter Ashford and I leave
for Vegas next Tuesday.”
“We’l need to talk to Mr. Ashford again before then.”
“I’l tel him.” She turned and walked out the door, then
headed for the exit.
“Carlotta, wait.”
She closed her eyes briefly, then turned to see Jack
striding up to her. He pul ed his hand down over his face.
“That was…revealing.”
“That was my last voluntary interview, Jack. I’m done.”
“Fair enough. You’ve been a big help.”
She frowned. “And what are you doing to help Coop?”
“Hoping he isn’t granted bail when he’s arraigned today.”
Her eyes widened. “You hope he doesn’t get bail?”
“Carlotta, if Coop is innocent, there’s a good chance The
Charmed Kil er is going to strike again. When that
happens, the best alibi for Coop is jail.”
She knew that, but stil , the thought of him in that place…
Then Jack crossed his arms. “So…Vegas, huh?”
“Vegas,” she confirmed with a nod.
“Just be careful. A lot of people get out there in that
overoxygenated air and go crazy, wind up doing stupid
things, like…getting married.”
She angled her head. “You were the one who told me I
should marry Peter.”
He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between
two fingers. “Since when do you listen to me?”
The thickness of his voice made Carlotta’s heart thud in
her chest. “Jack, can you give me a reason I shouldn’t go
away with Peter?”
He studied the dark hair for several long seconds, then
suddenly released it. “No, I can’t.” Then he turned around
and walked away.
16
Carlotta walked to her rental car in the parking garage
adjacent to the police station and unlocked it from a safe
distance. She looked around, wondering if Michael would
be careless enough to fol ow her, but apparently not. She
slid into the driver’s seat, then scrol ed through the
directory on her phone until she reached Fischer, Liz. After
connecting the cal , she drummed her fingers on the
steering wheel, waiting for the woman to answer.
“Liz Fischer.”
Carlotta flinched. Even the woman’s voice grated on her
nerves. “Liz, it’s Carlotta Wren.”
“Hi, Carlotta. I hope this isn’t about Wesley.”
“No, I don’t get involved in Wesley’s personal life.”
“Pardon me?”
“You don’t have to play dumb, Liz. I know you and Wes
have a thing, but he’s old enough to make his own
mistakes. Heaven knows you won’t be his last.”
“Was there a point to this call?” Liz chirped.
“Actually, I’m cal ing about Dad. You know, the other Wren
man you slept with?”
“What about Randolph?”
She told Liz about his connection to Alicia Sil s. “I just
informed the GBI this morning and I thought it might help
you in Coop’s arraignment. Between Michael Lane and
now this link to my dad, the D.A. has to know there would
be reasonable doubt if the case against Coop goes to trial.
It might at least help Coop get bail.”
“Carlotta, I’m going to fight like hel for bail, but D.A. Lucas
is going to come in like a sledgehammer.”
“But think about it, Liz. Who does Lucas want as much as
The Charmed Kil er?”
“Randolph Wren,” Liz relented.
“Imagine if Lucas thought that Randolph might be The
Charmed Kil er.”
A conceding noise sounded over the line. “It might rattle
Lucas a little. My plan is to point out to the judge that the
prosecution has only a circumstantial case against Dr.
Craft. At the moment, the jail is overcrowded, so that wil
work in our favor. And we might get lucky and draw a
sympathetic judge. Of course, the judge might set a bail so
high that Dr. Craft can’t cover it.”
“When is the arraignment?”
“Sometime early afternoon.”
“I’l keep an ear to the news. Good luck.”
“Carlotta?”
“Yes.”
“I do care for Wesley.”
“So do I, Liz. Goodbye.”
She disconnected the cal , feeling marginal y optimistic
about Coop, but less confident when it came to Wes. She
hoped he hadn’t gotten in over his head with Liz, although
she understood the attraction. He obviously liked Meg, but
in some respects a physical relationship was easier to deal
with than an emotional one.
Which was probably why she was so drawn to Jack.
Carlotta spent the rest of the morning driving from jewelry
store to jewelry store, “pretending” that she was doing
legwork for the police and asking if they’d sold charms to
anyone suspicious. She presented Michael’s picture,
explaining he might be blond, but very few retail outlets
reported any male customers buying charms at al . And
none of them had aroused suspicion.
“Pretty girl like you should have a great big diamond on
your finger,” a stooped, white-haired salesman told her
with a wink.
Carlotta’s thoughts went to the Cartier ring Peter was
holding for her. “I’m not quite ready for marriage yet.”
The man grinned. “Who said anything about marriage? An
engagement ring is just something nice to wear while you
make up your mind.”
She rubbed her empty ring finger and considered his
words, then thanked him for his time. At the moment, she
had another type of jewelry on her mind. All morning her
attention kept returning to the charm bracelet she wore,
and to whether the charms it came with held special
meaning. And if the charms the serial kil er used held
special meaning.
After he’d kil ed Shawna Whitt, he’d taken a charm from
her bracelet and placed it in her mouth. Had her bracelet
broken during a struggle? Had the charm simply become a
spontaneous signature, with no particular meaning other
than accessibility?
And after Shawna Whitt, had the kil er continued with the
signature simply out of compulsion? Since none of the
other charms that Shawna’s coworker had described from
her bracelet had been left at subsequent crime scenes, it
seemed as if the jewelry had been chosen deliberately. Or
maybe the charms had significance in the kil er’s mad mind
but would be nonsensical to anyone else.
On the drive to the townhouse, Carlotta conceded she was
looking for a needle in a haystack. In at least the first case,
he’d taken a charm from the victim’s own bracelet. After
that, he could’ve obtained more of them anywhere—from
the victims’ jewelry boxes, through an online store or
auction, at a flea market. The charms could’ve belonged to
someone in his home—a mother, or a sister…or a wife. Or
he could’ve stolen them. A man who would murder
women for sport would certainly think nothing of
shoplifting a few trinkets.
Her mood was decidedly morose when she pul ed into the
weedy driveway of the townhouse. Hannah’s van and
Wes’s bike were already there. She wondered wryly if
Chance was going to join them, then chastised herself. If
Hannah was happy dating the schlubby guy with the
questionable revenue stream, then who was she to judge?
After all, Hannah wasn’t exactly nuts about Peter, yet she
managed to keep her hostility to a minimum.
Sort of.
Carlotta climbed out of the rental car, pul ed accumulated
mail from the box, and made her way to the front steps,
hoping to get inside without drawing the attention of Mrs.
Winningham.
No such luck.
“Carlotta! Yoo-hoo!”
She winced, then turned toward the fence that kept the
Wrens out of their neighbor’s manicured yard. “Hel o, Mrs.
Winningham.”
The dour-faced woman stood there holding a ruffled pink
parasol over her dog, Toofers. “I want to talk to you.”
“About the fire ants—”
“How did you get rid of them?”
Carlotta squinted. “Excuse me?”
The woman gestured to the areas in the yard where she’d
previously pointed out the offending sandy hil s allegedly
brimming with dog-eating ants. “They’re gone. What
product did you use?”
“I…don’t know,” Carlotta said, impressed that Wesley had
taken care of the pests. He was obviously trying to
compensate for his other mistakes. “But I’l ask Wes to let
you know. Goodbye, Mrs. Winningham.” She jogged up
the steps and pushed open the door to the sound of raised
voices.
Wes was facing Hannah and Chance. “Both of you get off
my back!”
Carlotta pul ed the door closed with a bang. They turned
to look at her, then all of them shifted awkwardly.
Carlotta shot Wes a pointed look. “Why would Hannah and
Chance be on your back?”
Wes straightened and tried to look nonchalant. “No
reason.”
Anger whipped through her. “Stop bul shitting me, Wesley
Wren! I don’t need it today.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “I messed up last night and
got high. But I’m getting clean, Sis, I promise.”
Carlotta stared at him, feeling very close to losing it. She
gripped the strap of her purse for dear life, then reached
inside and pul ed out a cigarette, breaking her rule of not
smoking in the house. Her hand was shaking so badly as
she lit the tip, the lighter’s flame bobbed. She inhaled on
the cigarette until her eyeballs bulged, then exhaled
noisily. She could feel everyone’s eyes trained on her, as if
they were waiting for her to flip out. Carlotta took two
more powerful drags before lifting her gaze to Wes. To his
credit, he looked scared.
“Are you okay, Sis?”
“We’l talk about this later,” she promised. “Let’s get down
to business.”
Wordlessly, Hannah and Chance headed for the kitchen.
Carlotta thought about the listening device imbedded in
the wall over the window, then decided it was a moot
point. On the remote chance someone was listening, she
couldn’t imagine they’d be interested in The Charmed
Kil er case. Most likely, whoever had planted it had given
up listening long ago. For all they knew, it could’ve been in
the house before the Wrens had moved in.
She fol owed the trio into the kitchen and snubbed out her
cigarette before taking a place at the table. Without
preamble, she pul ed out her notebook and opened it.
“Okay, Hannah, you said you and Chance had some
information?”
Hannah looked at her warily. “Carlotta, we don’t have to
do this now.”
“Coop is supposed to be arraigned today,” Carlotta said
careful y. “If you found something helpful, tel me.”
Hannah looked dubious, but handed over a folder. “It’s not
hard to get cyanide if you want it. Pharmacists can get it,
and chemists. Plus people in the pest control business, and
jewelers. Cyanide is also used in some photographic and
printing processes. And if a person doesn’t have access to
it through their job, all they need is a friend who does.”
Carlotta sighed. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“Those are only the legal ways,” Chance offered. “I made
two phone calls to my, um…alternative contacts, and I was
told as long as I had cash, I could have as much as I
wanted.”
Carlotta’s shoulders fel . “So anyone can get it.”
“But that’s a good thing, right?” Hannah asked. “That wil