Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (26 page)

suddenly looked concerned. “Dude, your hand is shaking—

what’s up?”

Carlotta peered under her lashes to observe his response.

He shrugged, then turned back to pour batter into the

nonstick pan. “Too much coffee, I guess.”

“You could be a chef, you know,” Hannah offered. “If you

wanted to apply yourself.”

“He’s a courier now,” Carlotta said, stil watching her

brother. “Delivering packages on his bike.”

“Cool,” Hannah said. “When did that happen?”

“It hasn’t started yet,” he said. “Hey, Sis, this is the big day,

right?”

“Did I miss something?” Hannah asked.

Hmm, clever subject change, she noted. “I’m going for my

last X-ray today I hope.” She flicked the soft cast on her

arm. “I can’t wait to stop wearing this ugly thing.”

“It is starting to look pretty gnarly,” Hannah agreed. “Do

you need a ride?”

“No, thanks. I have a new battery in the Monte Carlo.”

“When did that happen?” Wesley dropped a pancake onto

Carlotta’s plate.

“Jack put it in the day before yesterday.”

“Jack, huh?” Wesley scraped more batter from the bowl

into the pan. “So was Peter pissed about you leaving the

park last night?”

Carlotta’s chest squeezed with remorse. “He was nice

when I called, but disappointed. He’s not too crazy about

me doing this body moving thing.”

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “I think it’d make a great

conversation starter at the country club.”

“I think he’s worried about my safety,” Carlotta chided.

The piercing sound of the motion detector alarm suddenly

fil ed the room. Carlotta went to the front room window

and glanced outside to see Jack standing on the stoop,

jacketless and rumpled. A quick check of the curb revealed

that the black SUV that had been sitting there when she’d

retrieved the newspaper this morning was gone.

“It’s Jack,” she called back to the kitchen, then opened the

front door. The detective’s broad shoulders were rounded

and his face was lined with fatigue.

“You look like hel ,” she said, leaning on the doorknob.

“Good morning to you, too. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She stepped aside, then closed the door behind

him. “Wesley’s making pancakes.”

“Got any coffee?”

“Straight ahead. Have you been to bed?”

“Not yet.”

He seemed to take it in stride—the long hours and the

unpredictable cases. Jack was wel -suited to his

demanding job, but it underlined his previous comment

that he wasn’t the settling-down type. He was the

quintessential cop, she thought as she fol owed him into

the kitchen.

Jack greeted Hannah and Wesley and leaned against the

breakfast bar while Carlotta poured him a cup of coffee.

“We’re reading about The Charmed Kil er,” Hannah said.

He frowned. “What?”

She handed him the newspaper. He scanned it for a few

seconds, then tossed it down with a curse. “This is all we

need, a nosy reporter vying for a Pulitzer. Did any of you

talk to this woman about the case?”

“No,” they chorused.

He looked at Carlotta pointedly. “Are you sure?”

She frowned. “I said no, Jack.”

“Wel , don’t. Did any of you notice anyone else on the

scene last night, other than the uniform and Detective

Salyers?”

“No,” they chorused.

“Think hard. Anyone loitering on the street? A curious

neighbor? Someone walking a dog?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Uh-uh.”

His jaw hardened. “Were any of you ever alone with the

body?”

Carlotta jammed her hands on her hips. “What are you

getting at, Jack?”

“We have to rule out that someone on the crime scene put

those charms in the victims’ mouths.”

Her eyes widened. “You think we would do something like

that?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Carlotta, it’s been noted that

you were at both crime scenes.”

She gave a little laugh. “Jack, you can’t be serious.”

“I have to ask because—”

“Because why?”

He sighed. “Because you…fit a profile.”

Her head jutted forward. “A profile that Maria came up

with? For a serial kil er?”

“No, not for a kil er. For someone who likes to…involve

herself in solving crimes.”

“That’s bul shit,” Wesley said, his face contorted. “How

dare you say that about my sister?”

Jack lifted his hand. “Relax. The reason I’m here instead of

someone else is because I know how far-fetched that

scenario is.”

She recalled Maria’s personality “profile” of her. You

aren’t challenged enough on your job, which is why you

like to get involved in police work. “So your partner thinks

that I want so badly to involve myself in cases, that I would

plant evidence to create the il usion of a serial kil er?”

“It’s been known to happen,” he said quietly.

She gasped. “Jack, you were at Shawna Whitt’s house

when I got there. When Coop left to get the gurney, you

were with me the entire time. I didn’t even touch the body

before he found the charm.”

“I know,” he said, then averted his gaze. “If it comes down

to it, would you be wil ing to take a polygraph exam?”

She knew her mouth was open—she could feel air on her

tongue.

“Don’t be offended,” he said.

“How can I not be offended?”

“Because this is what happens when you—all of you,” he

said, including Wesley and Hannah, “are on crime scenes—

even if it’s after the fact. You become part of the process.

If you can’t handle the pressure, then you need to get out

of the body moving business.” He straightened. “By the

way, do you know how hard it’s going to be to prove that

someone did or didn’t break in through the front door of

Alicia Sil s’s house after you three managed to break the

glass?”

Hannah lifted her hand sheepishly. “Uh, I own that one.”

Carlotta exchanged glances with Hannah and Wesley, then

looked back to Jack, contrite. “You’re right. Do whatever

you have to do to eliminate any of us as suspects, so you

can move forward with the investigation.”

He gave a curt nod, then pushed off the counter. “I came

by to take down the motion detectors. I’m assuming you

haven’t seen anything suspicious.”

“No, nothing.” She hesitated, then added. “Except the

black SUV that keeps showing up on the curb.”

“But you said your neighbor spotted it a couple of weeks

ago, right?”

“Right. So it couldn’t have been Michael—he was stil in

the hospital.”

Jack looked at Wesley. “Do you know anything about it?”

Wesley shook his head. “No, nothing.”

Carlotta studied Wesley. When he was little, she could

always tel when he was lying, but now she didn’t have a

clue. The realization scared her.

“If either of you see it again,” Jack said, “call me. No

confrontations, okay? If I’m busy, I’l have a uniform drive

over to get a plate number. Hopeful y, it’s nothing.” He

drained his coffee cup, then jerked his head toward the

living room. “Carlotta, why don’t you keep me company

while I dismantle the system?”

So the police believed Michael was dead. She fol owed

Jack outside where he began removing the motion

detectors that he’d installed a few days ago, assuming he

wanted to talk to her about something.

“One of Lane’s shoes washed up on the bank a couple

miles down from where he went in,” he said as he pul ed

out hand tools from a duffel bag.

“You’re sure it’s his shoe?”

“We matched it to the film of the foot chase.”

“But no body?”

“No.” Jack stowed the motion detector he’d removed and

moved on to the next. “At this point, he’s presumed

dead.”

“What happens if they don’t find his body?”

“We’l work with the family to have Lane declared

deceased.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Keep me

posted?”

“Of course.” He made short work of removing the second

detector, then removed a handkerchief to wipe his

forehead. “The day Marquez and I drove you home after

the cake incident, you said you had a clue about the

Shawna Whitt case. What did you mean?”

Carlotta crossed her arms. “Oh, so now you want my

help?”

He sighed. “Work with me, Carlotta. I’ve been up all

night.”

She tried to hold out, but the man was impossible to resist.

“Come back inside. I’l show you what I found.

“I did some searching on the Internet,” she said as they

backtracked into the house. “An S-W-H-I-T-T from Atlanta

was a member of a Web site for fans of Eva McCoy’s

charm bracelets. In the community chat section, she

posted that she was using her bracelet as an incentive to

change her life. In her last post, she said that she was

looking into a matchmaking service—it was dated only a

few days before Shawna Whitt was found dead. If it’s the

same woman, you might look for the charm bracelet in her

home. Maybe the charm that was placed in her mouth was

from her bracelet. Maybe the second victim is a member

of the site, too.”

Jack chewed on his lip. “Do you remember the name of

the Web site?”

She had to fight not to feel too smug as they went down

the hall to her bedroom. “I kept all the printouts. Do you

want them?”

He shook his head in obvious consternation. “Yeah, I’l take

them.”

She pushed open the door and Jack looked at her bed

longingly, but she suspected it had more to do with the

al ure of her mattress after his sleepless night than with

her. She picked up her purse and delved into an inside

pocket for the sheaf of papers she’d printed and folded.

“There. Read the last post.”

He scanned the page. “‘I’m tired of living all alone in my

house, sleeping alone. I’m going to join one of those

matchmaking services—can anyone suggest a good one?’”

“What do you think?” Carlotta asked eagerly.

Jack frowned. “I think this woman announced on the

damned Internet that she lives and sleeps alone. Do you

know how many perverts would see that as an invitation?”

“You have to be a member of the Web site to read the

forums.”

“I’m assuming you have to fil out some kind of profile to

join? With personal info, like your address?”

She nodded.

“Great—so we just narrowed our suspect pool down to

any psycho with access to a computer.”

“I can help,” Carlotta offered. “What can I do?”

He held up a hand. “Oh, no. You wil not be helping on this

investigation.”

“But I already have,” she insisted, gesturing to the papers

he held.

“Maybe. We’l see.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with Eva McCoy’s

charm bracelet being stolen?”

“I don’t see how except that everyone seems to have gone

berserk over charms.”

“Any leads on Eva’s bracelet?”

“No, and now that these murders have fallen into our laps,

we don’t have the time or resources to worry about it.

Meanwhile, McCoy’s senator uncle is leaning on us to find

the damn thing, saying it’s a matter of national pride.” Jack

rubbed his eyes. “I really don’t give a shit whether we find

the bracelet or not, but apparently the woman’s being

hounded—by the media…and everyone else. We have a

car nearby to watch her place, but right now, we need all

our guys in the field, not babysitting.”

Carlotta pressed her lips together. “So what do you think,

Jack? Does Atlanta have a serial kil er?”

She could tel he didn’t want to answer, that even from his

jaded perspective the prospect was almost too daunting to

say aloud. “I’m afraid it’s looking that way.”

She released a pent-up breath. “Do you think he’l kil

again?”

“He might’ve kil ed before. In hindsight, the discovery of

the charms in these two cases was accidental. He could’ve

kil ed before and nobody noticed the charms.”

“How’s that possible?”

He shrugged. “If foul play wasn’t suspected and if the

charm was small, it simply could’ve been overlooked. Or if

it showed up on an X-ray it might’ve been mistaken for

dental work. If the body had been cremated, like Shawna

Whitt’s, the charm would ultimately be melted down.”

“Shawna Whitt was cremated? That’s unusual in the

South.” Baptists needed a body to bury.

His frown deepened. “Yeah, and it’s unfortunate, too, in

this case. Because without the body, it’s going to be hard

to prove she didn’t die of natural causes. But Coop’s going

to do what he can.”

“Coop’s working on the case?”

“At least the lab work.”

Carlotta’s shoulders fel in relief to know that he hadn’t

returned her calls because he’d been busy.

Jack checked his watch. “I’d better be going, let you get to

work—” He stopped and his eyes narrowed.

Too late, Carlotta realized he’d zoned in on the business

card of Rainie Stephens, staff reporter, Atlanta Journal-

Constitution, stuck in the mirror of her dresser. His face

hardened. “I thought you said you didn’t talk to the

reporter.”

She plucked at her cast guiltily, looking for something to