Authors: Stephanie Bond
least, send you back to jail.”
He pursed his mouth. “I only took a few pil s for the pain.”
“I understand why you started taking them, Wes, but you
need to stop.”
“Where did you have this test done? This could be bogus
for al I know.”
“Coop did the analysis himself.”
“Coop?” Emotions played over his face—anger,
frustration, shame. He turned his back to her and jammed
his hands on his hips.
She waited, wanting to reach out to touch him, but sensing
he wouldn’t welcome it.
“Wes, I need for you to get straight,” she said quietly.
“With Coop in jail, I’m barely hanging on here. I need your
help to deal with this.”
Finally his shoulders fel . “Okay, I’l quit.” He turned
around, his expression bleak.
“Can you do it on your own?”
He scoffed. “Hel , yeah, I can do it on my own. I can quit
any time I want to. This stuff isn’t cocaine. I’m not some
hard-core addict shooting up in an alley.”
“Good,” she said, relieved. “So you’l just…quit.”
“I said I would,” he snapped.
“Okay,” she soothed, grateful he at least acknowledged he
had a problem. That was enough for now. “I’m here if you
need me.”
She noticed that his gaze had slid back to the window over
the sink.
“Wes, is something wrong? You keep looking—”
He cut her off by clamping a hand over her mouth.
Her eyes widened. He lifted a finger to his mouth, then
pointed to the top of the window.
Carlotta squinted at what looked like a dark hole the size
of a golf bal , then realized it wasn’t a hole, it
was…something. “What—”
Wesley covered her mouth again and shepherded her into
the living room. “Keep your voice down.”
When he released her, she whispered, “What’s going on?”
“That thing over the window is a bug.”
“A what?”
“A listening device. We—I mean, I found it when I installed
the security system.”
“What’s it doing there?”
“I don’t know. But from a date stamped on the base, it
looks like it was installed about ten years ago.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Do you think Dad did it?”
“That’s what I thought, so he could listen in to make sure
we were okay.”
Wonder flowered through her chest at the prospect.
“When he spoke to me at the rest area, he did say he was
keeping tabs on us. Maybe this is how.”
“I figure he has a handheld receiver and parks near the
house to listen in. The transmission range couldn’t be
more than a mile or so.”
So Randolph had planned to be nearby, at least on
occasion. Her mind scrol ed back over all the conversations
between her and Wesley that had taken place over the
past ten years. The times her little brother had cried into
his dinner plate. Knowing that Randolph and Valerie might
have overheard how much their children were suffering,
yet stil hadn’t come back, was almost worse than being
ignored. Then another thought occurred to her.
“What if someone put it there to listen in on Dad?”
Wesley pul ed his hand down his face and nodded. “That’s
a possibility.”
“Wes, there’s something else I should tell you. The
Charmed Kil er’s second victim, Alicia Sil s, worked in Dad’s
office building.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So…Peter remembers that Dad and the woman
were…friendly. Very friendly. And since Randolph’s name
has already come up as a possible suspect, it doesn’t look
good.”
“Did Peter tel the police?”
“No. He left it up to me to decide, and I haven’t said
anything.”
“Do you stil have Dad’s client file? The one I took from
Liz?”
“It’s at Peter’s, but I haven’t gone through it yet. I guess
part of me doesn’t want to dredge it up again, and another
part of me wants to get past this situation with Coop
before dealing with it.”
Wes nodded, looking as concerned and confused as she
felt. “I’m getting closer to pul ing Dad’s records from the
city databases.”
“Are you sure you won’t get caught?”
“Why don’t you let me worry about something?”
She smiled. “Deal.” From her purse her cel phone rang.
She pul ed it out and checked the caller ID. It was June
Moody, the owner of Moody’s Cigar Bar who had
befriended Carlotta, and who had developed a soft spot
for Coop. “I need to take this.”
“I’m gonna take off,” Wes said, moving toward the door.
“I’l lock up. Tel Hannah I’l be right out. Oh, and Wes?”
He turned back.
“Apologize to Meg.”
He looked pained, but nodded.
Watching him go, her heart gave a squeeze. She connected
the ringing phone. “Hi, June. How are you?”
“At the moment, I’m worried half to death about Coop and
the things they’re saying on the news. Can you tel me
what’s going on?”
“I went to see Coop this morning. He’s in good spirits,”
Carlotta lied, massaging her temple. “This is all a mistake. I
think the GBI was pressured to make an arrest, and
because Coop was so close to the crime scenes, he was a
good candidate.”
“And because he’s drinking again?”
“That doesn’t help,” Carlotta agreed. “But Coop wouldn’t
want you to worry about him, June. I’l keep you posted.”
“Okay.” The woman sounded somewhat relieved.
“Is Mitchel stil in town?” June’s son, a sergeant in the
army, was in Atlanta on leave from his post in Hawaii.
“For another week or so.” But from the sound of June’s
voice, their relationship was stil strained—or maybe she
was just concerned about her surrogate son, Coop.
“Try to enjoy the time you have left with him,” Carlotta
said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’l drop by the bar soon.”
“Okay, dear. Bye.”
Carlotta ended the call, but lying to June had taken its tol
on her. The idea that she had to manufacture optimism
sickened her. She leaned over to grasp her knees. A
terrible storm of frustration and anger at the state of her
life swirled in her stomach, spreading to her chest.
Coop…Wesley…her father. A wall of tears pressed behind
her eyes and cheeks. A sob rose in her throat, choking her.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something.
Possessed with a fierce need to vent, she ran into the
kitchen and raised her voice in the direction of the
listening device imbedded in the wall. “Randolph, you’re a
coward!” she yel ed. “Do you hear me? You’re a coward,
and I wil never forgive you for what you’ve done to me
and Wesley!”
She stopped and stared at the device, as if she half
expected her father to answer. He didn’t, of course. Even if
he were listening, why would he respond after all this
time?
She gripped the edge of the breakfast bar for support. A
dark cloud threatened to engulf her. Was this what a
nervous breakdown felt like?
She shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t do that to
Wesley, she had to get a grip. She had her job, and other
people needed her.
The front door opened and Hannah’s voice rang out.
“Carlotta? You okay?”
She swallowed hard to rally herself before she turned and
walked into the living room. At the concern on her friend’s
face, she smiled. “I’m fine, just checking on a couple of
things. Let’s go.”
But she felt Hannah’s gaze on her as they backed out of
the driveway and drove toward the mall. “You sure you’re
okay?”
“I talked to Wes about the drugs.”
“Oh. And?”
“He promised he’d quit.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yeah. He was sincere.”
Hannah looked back to the road. “I hope you’re right
about Wes…and about Coop.”
“I’m right about both of them,” Carlotta said. “You’l see.”
Hannah nodded, but didn’t say anything.
To change the subject, Carlotta said, “So…you and Chance
looked cozy.”
“Oh, stop.”
“What? It’s kind of cute in a frat-boy-meets-Elvira kind of
way.”
“He’s good to me, and it’s a place to stay for now.”
Carlotta frowned. “Why can’t you stay at home?”
“Had a falling out with the folks.”
Carlotta was stunned. Hannah never talked about her
parents, and when Carlotta had probed before about her
family, her friend had clammed up tight. “What over?”
Hannah gave a dismissive wave. “It’s not important. It’s
time to get my own place anyway. I should’ve escaped
that zoo a long time ago.”
“Zoo?”
“They’re not in touch with reality. They don’t get me.”
She surveyed Hannah’s black lipstick, kohl-rimmed eyes,
multiple piercings, and visible tattoos. “Wel , Hannah, you
have to admit…”
Hannah frowned. “What?”
“Uh, nothing.” She cleared her throat. “So, you’re living
with Chance?”
“A toothbrush and a clean pair of thongs at his place does
not constitute living together. How long are you planning
to stay at Peter’s?”
Carlotta bit her lip. “For a little while, until we get the
townhouse repaired…or until Peter tosses me out.”
“Right. Fat chance. I’m surprised Richie Rich hasn’t
shackled you in the wine cel ar to keep you there. Have
you two tried to have sex again?”
“No,” she murmured. The first two times she and Peter
had tried to consummate their reunion, things had
ended…prematurely. “We’re taking a step back
and…enjoying each other.”
“What the hel does that mean?”
“Wel , tonight we’re going to a movie.”
Hannah pul ed the van into the Lenox Square parking lot
and headed toward Neiman Marcus. “Sounds like a barrel
of fun.”
“Maybe it’s a little humdrum,” Carlotta admitted. “But
with everything else going on in my life, humdrum isn’t so
bad.”
Hannah slowed for a speed bump, then pul ed up to the
entrance of Neiman’s. “Keep saying that. Maybe one of us
wil believe it.”
Carlotta frowned, then climbed out of the van with a
wave. She walked into Neiman’s, her mind swirling with all
the unresolved relationships in her life.
Herb, the security guard hired to keep an eye on her in
case Michael Lane showed up, stood next to a rack of
flowered capris, resigned to another boring day of
watching her dress women who moved in expensive
circles.
Carlotta moved through her shift on automatic pilot,
waiting on customers with a smile and sales skil s that had
become second nature to her. But all the while she kept
picturing Coop as he’d been yesterday, standing in front of
her, inebriated and disheveled, just before the police had
shown up and the GBI had slammed him down on her
counter, placing him under arrest for murder. She’d flailed
in protest, but Jack had shuffled her away.
The scene played over and over in her head until she
clocked out at the end of her shift with a stabbing pain
behind her eyes. When she removed her purse from her
locker in the employee break room, she tossed back
Excedrin. Then, as promised, she called Peter to let him
know she was finished for the day. His cheerful, calming
voice was balm to her frayed nerves. He was just leaving
the office. A few minutes later he picked her up and they
grabbed a quick bite, then circled back to the mall theater.
Peter, bless him, must have sensed that she’d had a lousy
day because he kept the conversation light and bought
tickets to a low-key English comedy film. She squeezed his
hand and leaned into his shoulder, grateful for the quiet
space he gave her.
Stil , she couldn’t concentrate on the movie. The fact that
she was keeping her jailhouse visit with Coop from Peter
made guilt simmer in her chest. Meanwhile, her
conversation with Coop ran through her head in a
continuous loop. She picked it apart, trying to read
between the lines and dissect Coop’s frame of mind. One
bit of dialogue came back to her.
Stil living with Peter?
Staying with him, yes.
I’m glad you’re safe.
Carlotta lifted her head and her heart sped up. Was that
Coop’s way of saying The Charmed Kil er was stil out
there? Despite the grim prospect, the possibility cheered
her immensely. She was suddenly eager to start looking
into the background of the first victim, to hopeful y find
something that might piece together the identity of the
madman stalking the city. And figure out why Coop would
be wil ing to shoulder the blame for such heinous crimes.
When they arrived at Peter’s home, a silver two-door
Honda Civic rental car sat in the circular driveway.
“It has GPS,” Peter said. “And it’s yours for as long as you
need it. I told my insurance company to slip the key
through the mail slot in the front door.”
“Thank you,” she said, happy to have transportation again.
She’d totaled Peter’s Porsche without even leaving the
driveway. And the pink Vespa he’d bought her had been
demolished when she’d been unable to avoid a burned
body dumped in her path. A typical day in her life.
When they entered Peter’s house, the silence seemed
oppressive to Carlotta. She walked through the great room