Authors: Stephanie Bond
“Same thing.”
As he waited for her reaction, sweat dripped down his
back. He couldn’t read Meg at all. She was smarter than
anyone his age he’d ever met, let alone a girl. Top that
with the fact that she had a kil er body and was as cool as
hel , and he was pretty damn fascinated by her. She’d once
announced that he could be her boyfriend if only he’d
“straighten up,” which left him feeling alternately irritated
and turned on.
Meg held up the AJC, which heralded THE CHARMED
KILLER CAPTURED? “Isn’t this Cooper Craft the guy you
worked for?”
He set his jaw. “Yeah.”
One eyebrow arched. “You were apprenticing with The
Charmed Kil er?”
“He’s innocent. No way Coop did those things.”
“Really. And you think your dad is innocent, too?”
“That’s right.”
She dropped the newspaper and studied him. “You’re
either the most brilliant guy in the room or the worst
judge of character ever.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What about your sister?”
“She doesn’t believe Coop is guilty, either.”
“No, I mean, what does she think about your father?”
“She’s wil ing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Meg drummed her fingers on the desk, and the rhythmic
movement sent thunder rol ing through his head. Just
when he was on the verge of screaming, she stopped.
“And you think the records in the courthouse database
might shed some light on your father’s case?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was worth a try to
find out.”
“Isn’t the police record public?”
“Just the arrest report. I’m hoping to find the transcript of
the grand jury.”
She began drumming her fingers again.
He reached across and covered her hand with his. “Please
don’t do that.”
Beneath his hand, her fingers were cool and baby soft. The
Oxy magnified the sensation of her skin against his—it was
electric and left him with images of her touching him
elsewhere.
Meg yanked her hand out from under his as if he’d burned
her. She looked flustered, then her gaze hardened. “Let
me get this straight. You hacked into the city computer
system and risked going to jail to help the man who
abandoned you?”
It occurred to him that she might be wired—not out of the
question since her father had hired a P.I. to fol ow him—so
he decided not to say anything. Instead he nodded.
She chewed the side of her mouth and was quiet for so
long, he was sure she was going to turn him over to
McCormick. “I’l make you a deal,” she said finally.
Warning flags rose in his mind. “What kind of deal?”
“I won’t turn you in…if you’l let me help you sift through
your father’s records.”
Wes squinted. “Why would you do that?”
Her expression was haughty. “You’re not really in a
position to ask, are you?”
“No,” he mumbled in agreement, relieved, but stil wary.
Because of all positions he’d imagined himself in with
Meg, this wasn’t even in the top five.
5
“I’d like to see Cooper Craft, please.” Carlotta’s grip on her
shoulder bag was slippery—she was a nervous wreck at
the prospect of facing Coop, but she’d barely slept last
night from worrying over him. She desperately needed to
make sure he was okay.
The lady officer behind the counter at the Atlanta City
Detention Center leaned forward and eyed her
suspiciously, as if she might be hiding a metal file in her
slingbacks. “Are you his attorney?”
While the idea of impersonating Liz Fischer gave her a little
thrill, she decided it would be too easy to check. “No.”
“Reporter?”
“Definitely not.”
“If you’re some kind of serial-kil er groupie, you’re wasting
your time.” The officer’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard about
kooks like you.”
“I’m not a groupie. My name is Carlotta Wren. Brooklyn at
the midtown precinct can vouch for me.”
“Yeah, I know Brook,” the woman conceded with a wary
nod. “But that ain’t gonna get you a free pass into my jail.”
Carlotta realized she would have to change tactics to get
past the cranky gatekeeper. She glanced at the officer’s
name badge and offered her a sad smile. “Officer
McHenry, is it?”
“Uh-hm.”
“Officer McHenry, surely there must be some way for me
to see Coop.”
“No can do. In case you haven’t read the papers, sweetie,
this is a high-profile case. Technically, he’s not supposed to
see anyone except his lawyer and immediate family. So
unless you’re his sister, you ain’t getting in.”
Carlotta angled her head. “What if I’m his girlfriend?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Fiancée?” she asked hopeful y.
The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re engaged to this guy?”
Beneath the ledge of the counter Carlotta discreetly
moved a costume jewelry butterfly band to her left ring
finger, then lifted her hand in reply. “I just need fifteen
minutes.”
“I don’t think—”
“Ten minutes?” She worked up some tears to seal the
deal. It wasn’t hard because she was starting to feel
panicky about not seeing Coop. She couldn’t bear him
thinking that she’d set him up to be arrested. “Just long
enough to break it off. Surely you can understand.”
The woman crossed her arms and nodded. “Girl, you gotta
get out of that mess, for sure.”
Carlotta sagged in relief. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Course, he’l have to agree to see you,” Officer McHenry
said, picking up the phone. “Give me your name again.”
She told the woman, then chewed on a ragged thumbnail.
Would Coop blow her cover and refuse to see her?
The woman talked to someone in low tones and was on
hold for several long minutes. Finally, she replaced the
receiver and tapped on a keyboard before pushing it
toward Carlotta.
“Sign the computer log,” she said. “I’l need your purse,
and I have to search you.”
The officer had typed Coop’s name in the Inmate column.
In the Visitor column, Carlotta typed in her own. Under
“Relationship to Inmate” she hesitated, but with Officer
McHenry watching, she slowly typed in F-I-A-N-C-É-E. If
Peter knew she was pretending to be engaged to Coop,
he’d have a stroke.
The officer waved Carlotta around to a door that she held
open. When Carlotta walked through, the woman said, “I
have to warn you—your man’s in a bad way.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
McHenry took her purse and set it aside, then began to
methodically pat her down. “He’s a drinker, right?”
“He’s had some issues with alcohol,” Carlotta hedged.
“Wel , there’s no alcohol here,” the cop said pointedly.
“Take off your shoes.”
She stepped out of the slingbacks. So Coop was going
through withdrawal. Jack had commented that at least in
jail Coop could dry out.
“Nice shoes,” the officer said, setting them back down for
Carlotta to step into.
“Thanks. I work at Neiman’s at Lenox. Come by sometime
and I’l give you my friends-and-family discount.”
McHenry brightened. “Oh, you’re the one who hooked
Brooklyn up with a coupon.”
Carlotta smiled. “That’s me.”
The officer, now in a better humor, handed Carlotta off to
another uniform, and as she was led through a series of
doors and hallways, she was passed to a pair of guards.
Her pulse ratcheted higher as her heels clacked, echoing
on the tile floor. They delivered her to a small room with
four partitioned booths that faced a glass wall. Carlotta
had to suppress her dismay. She’d expected to be in the
same room with Coop when she talked to him.
Another visitor—an older woman—was talking to an
inmate on the other side of the glass.
“You can take the booth on the far end,” a guard said,
nodding.
Carlotta swallowed hard and moved woodenly to a metal
folding chair in front of a grubby wooden ledge scarred
with letters and names. She lowered herself to the cold,
hard surface of the chair. The guard stepped out of the
room and the steel door closed with a clang. The scene
was surreal, like something in a movie. At the sight of
Coop dressed in a gray jumpsuit and being led in shackles
and handcuffs to a chair on the other side of the glass, she
grew light-headed. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes as
she blinked back tears.
He looked pale and gaunt, his eyes behind his glasses dark
and sunken. He seemed lethargic as he held up his hands
for a guard to unlock the cuffs, but he managed a small
smile when he turned toward her and sat down. He gave
her a small wave, then reached for the phone with a shaky
hand.
Moving in slow motion, she did the same, wracked with
anguish over what he must be going through.
“Hi,” he said into the phone.
It was strange to watch someone talk and hear it through
the earpiece. “Hi,” she returned with a croak. “How are
you?”
A light came into his eyes. “Engaged, apparently.”
She smiled sheepishly, her cheeks warming. “I had to fib or
they wouldn’t let me see you.”
“I don’t mind,” he murmured, then nodded to the
butterfly ring on her left hand. “But that’s a pretty sad
engagement ring I bought you.”
“I had to improvise.”
“I’m just glad Peter hasn’t convinced you to wear his ring.”
Carlotta bit her lip. “You have bigger things to worry
about, Coop.”
He sighed and averted his glance. “So it seems.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He frowned. “About what?”
“Jack told me you were M.I.A. So when you called and said
you were coming by the store with Wesley’s drug test
results, I called Jack to let him know you weren’t missing
after all. I didn’t mean to set you up.”
He looked at her with quiet, hooded eyes. She could tel he
didn’t know whether to believe her. “What’s done is
done.”
“Coop,” she said earnestly, “where is your fight?”
“I’m tired,” he said quietly.
“You’re sick. You’re going through withdrawal from the
alcohol. You’l feel better soon.”
He nodded, but without conviction.
Fear squeezed her heart. “Coop, you’d tel me if something
else was wrong, something more…serious?”
“There’s no need to worry, Carlotta.”
She wet her lips. “Coop, Wesley saw you at the hospital
and he fol owed you—”
“Stop,” he cut in, his jaw hardening. “Don’t say another
word. Whatever Wesley saw or thought he saw, it has
nothing to do with this, understand?”
She nodded, aware that she had hit a nerve. Afraid that
Coop would abruptly end their conversation, she changed
tack. “Your arraignment is Monday?”
“That’s what my lawyer tel s me.”
“I hear Liz Fischer is representing you.”
“At least in the arraignment. Then we’l see.”
She didn’t even want to think about the case going to trial.
“Liz wil take care of you,” she said, trying not to let her
disapproval of the woman show. “Besides, anything could
happen over the weekend. Michael Lane might be taken
into custody. Or—” She sighed. “I hate to say this, but The
Charmed Kil er could strike again and at least everyone wil
know you’re innocent.”
He blinked slowly. “I’m prepared for things to run their
course.”
Carlotta bit her cheek in frustration. Even though she knew
in her heart that Coop wasn’t The Charmed Kil er, she
ached for his reassurance. Then there was the matter of
what he’d said to her just before he was arrested. He said
he’d done something terrible, that he’d kil ed someone.
But he’d been drinking, and at the time when she’d
pressed him, he’d brushed it off as a bad joke.
She held her tongue now only because she worried their
conversation might not be private, and that Coop was stil
too foggy to express himself clearly. She didn’t want to be
responsible for him saying something to further
incriminate himself.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Worried sick about you.”
His mouth twitched. “Stil living with Peter?”
“Staying with him, yes.”
“I’m glad you’re safe. Did you talk to Wesley about the
drug test results?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting for the right time.”
“Don’t put it off too long.”
“I won’t.” Carlotta wet her lips, then put her hand on the
window. “Coop, I’m afraid for you.”
He lifted his large hand to mirror hers against the glass.
“Don’t be. Everything wil work out, you’l see.”
She felt the heat from his skin through the cool glass.
Memories of their weekend in Florida came flooding back
to her. They had been the victims of bad timing and if she
could go back…
Tears clogged her throat. “We want to help, me and
Hannah and Wes. Tel me what we can do.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Water my plants?”
“I’m serious, Coop.”
“You can’t help me, Carlotta. This was bound to happen,
one way or another.”
Her mouth parted in confusion, but before she could ask
him to explain, the door opened and a guard stepped into
the room. “Time’s up.”