Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (28 page)

“This way.” Carlotta led the woman to the employee break

room where she swiped her ID to get in and retrieved her

purse while Eva tossed back a couple of capsules and

washed them down with water. As they left the store,

Eva’s head moved continually, scanning for whomever she

thought was pursuing her. Carlotta felt sorry for the

woman—she was obviously spooked.

“It’s not a limo,” Carlotta apologized when she unlocked

the Monte Carlo. “But it has a new battery.”

“It’s great,” Eva said as she slid into the passenger seat.

She checked the side mirror and seemed antsy until they

were underway. But once on the road, she removed the

scarf and the sunglasses and seemed more like herself.

“You must think I’m crazy,” she murmured.

Carlotta glanced over at the slight brunette. “No. I think

you’re under a lot of stress. And I can’t imagine what it

must be like to be in the spotlight like you’ve been.”

A sad little laugh escaped Eva. “I trained my entire adult

life for the Olympics, yet sometimes I’d give anything to go

back to the way things were before, when I was

anonymous.”

“But your charm bracelets are raising a lot of money for

charity.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She wrapped her fingers around

her bare wrist, obviously pining for the piece of jewelry

that had meant so much to her. “Stil , no good deed goes

unpunished.”

“You haven’t heard any news about your bracelet?”

“No, and I really don’t expect to.”

Eva’s sadness sent another pang through Carlotta as she

headed south on Peachtree toward downtown. The young

woman had accomplished a feat few individuals could

boast, and she’d done it in heroic fashion while the world

had cheered her on. She should be on top of the world,

enjoying the accolades and the benefits of being a gold-

medalist. Instead, she was a victim of her own celebrity.

“Eva, the death threats you’ve received—how were they

communicated?”

“Always anonymously, via e-mail from Internet cafés or a

scribbled note in the mail.”

“Do you think they’re from fans or competitors?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Or someone I inadvertently dissed

at an appearance. We turned everything over to the FBI,

but nothing was ever substantiated. They told me to get

on with my life.” The woman touched her head. “I’m

trying, but it’s wearing on me. Sometimes I have anxiety

attacks.”

“Is that what the pil s were for?”

“Yes, and they help.” She gave a little laugh. “I wish I

could’ve taken them during the Olympics, but

unfortunately, I couldn’t have anything like that in my

system, because of the doping blood tests, you know.”

“It must have been an ordeal. I heard on the news that

you’ve decided not to compete in the World

Championships?”

Eva nodded. “Now they’re saying there’s some guy out

there kil ing women and stuffing charms in their mouths—

maybe because of me?”

“There’s no reason to think those deaths have anything to

do with you,” Carlotta soothed.

“I just want all of this charm insanity to stop. I never

meant for any of this to happen. I only wanted to raise

money for charity.” Eva inhaled deeply, then released the

breath. “I have one more contracted appearance on

Monday at Atlantic Station, then I’m finished.”

“I’m sure no one wil blame you.” Carlotta tried to inject a

casual note into her voice as she flipped on her left signal

to turn onto Ralph McGil Boulevard. “Eva, how wel do

you know Mitchel Moody?”

“Mitch?” She squirmed in her seat. “Not very wel , really.

He ran with a small group of us for the three months I was

in Hawai training.”

Carlotta decided not to alarm the woman by tel ing her

that Mitch had been outside her home with other fans.

Instead she manufactured a smile. “I got the impression at

the Neiman’s event that Mitch had a crush on you.”

Eva looked away and laughed nervously. “Um, maybe. But

please don’t ever say that when Ben’s around.”

“Is Ben the jealous type?”

Eva smiled. “It’s his competitive nature.”

Carlotta steered the car right onto Courtland, which

turned into Washington, and soon the Coverdel

Legislative Office Building came into view on the tree-lined

street. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

“Thank you, but I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Carlotta assured her as she pul ed

to a stop in front of the building.

“Stil , I’m very grateful. Thank you.” Eva reached over and

squeezed Carlotta’s hand. “I’ve been feeling out of sorts

since my charm bracelet was stolen,” she said, her voice

trailing off. “I never realized how much I’d miss it.”

“I’m sure your bracelet wil turn up soon.”

Eva nodded, but Carlotta could see in the woman’s eyes

that she didn’t believe her. Eva climbed out of the car and

waved, then hurried toward the building, her head

pivoting as she scanned the area that bustled with people

ending their workday. Carlotta’s heart went out to the

woman who seemed caught in a no-win situation, and

whose mental toughness hadn’t prepared her for such an

emotional blow.

Carlotta bit her lip. Jack had admitted that Eva’s missing

charm bracelet wasn’t high on his or the department’s

priority list. And he’d been clear that he didn’t want

Carlotta poking around in The Charmed Kil er case.

But he hadn’t said anything about her poking around in

the missing bracelet case.

In fact, Jack might actually be grateful if she did some

legwork for him. Or better yet—if she helped him clear the

case from his backlog altogether. The thought of helping

return something so special to Eva excited her.

Meanwhile, she didn’t relish the thought of heading back

north with a hundred thousand other commuters at this

time of day. She wished she was close to the library so she

could do some research on Eva McCoy that might help her

figure out where to start. Then she realized she was only

about a mile away from the building that housed the

offices of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, possibly the

single largest repository of information in the city.

Carlotta wondered if Rainie Stephens worked late.

“I always work late,” the redhead said with a wry grin.

“Have a seat, Ms. Wren.”

“Carlotta,” she corrected as she lowered herself into the

guest chair in Rainie’s messy cubicle.

“Okay, Carlotta.” Rainie’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Did

you come here to talk about The Charmed Kil er?”

“Uh, no. Actually, I came to ask you what you remember

about the incident at Neiman’s where Eva McCoy’s

bracelet was stolen.”

“I think you had a better point of view than I did.”

“Until I fel into the cake. Can you pick up the story from

there?”

Rainie sat back in her chair. “Can’t you get that from the

surveil ance tapes?”

“This is sort of on the Q.T.”

“Ah. Wel , I’m afraid I can’t add much except that the man

went for Eva, then a few seconds later, he bolted for the

mall entrance and disappeared.”

“Did your photographer get anything?”

The reporter rummaged for a file, then handed it over.

“Lots of pictures of you and the cake, but nothing useful of

the guy or his getaway. This was only the photographer’s

second assignment. When things blew up, he freaked.”

Carlotta opened the folder and winced at the sheet of

black-and-white photos. Her face and fall were captured in

embarrassing detail, but only the back of the perp was

visible. She looked up. “Have I thanked you for keeping

these photos out of the paper?”

“You’re welcome. You can keep those.” Rainie clasped her

hands. “So, what’s the personal interest in Eva McCoy’s

bracelet? Has some kind of reward been offered?”

“No. It’s just that Eva’s so upset and the police are

swamped with crowd control around her estate—”

“And The Charmed Kil er?”

“Uh…I really couldn’t say.”

“But you were there—at both scenes, in fact.”

Jack’s warning not to talk to the woman about the

murders rang in her ears. “That was…inadvertent.”

“Can you confirm that the charm in the Whitt woman’s

mouth was a bird of some kind?”

“I…can’t. Sorry.”

“How about the charm in the Sil s woman’s mouth?”

“I’ve been asked not to talk about the cases.”

“By your boyfriend, Jack Terry?”

Carlotta frowned. “Jack’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right.” Rainie nodded, seemingly unconvinced. “I’m a

reporter, Carlotta. I have sources everywhere.”

“Do your sources know anything about the death threats

that Eva McCoy has received?”

The redhead hesitated. “Just that she has, which, frankly,

isn’t so strange for someone with such a high profile.

There are a lot of crazies out there who think women

shouldn’t be elite athletes. And the competition is stiff—

there are fewer sponsors in women’s sports. There was a

case a couple of years ago where a death threat was sent

to a female golfer. Come to find out, the coach of a rival

golfer was behind it.”

“Do you think that Eva’s food poisoning at the Olympics

could have been an attempt to sabotage her?”

Rainie looked dubious. “I guess it’s possible. But since

many of the athletes ate the same thing as Eva, some

theorized that she’d simply allowed her meal to sit out too

long.” Rainie shrugged. “Or maybe it was just a viral bug.

Regardless, the experience seems to have made her

paranoid.”

“Just because she’s paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t

out to get her.”

“True. Or at least get her bracelet. By the way, if you get a

line on it, I’d love an exclusive.”

Carlotta stood. “You got it.”

“And that goes for anything related to The Charmed Kil er,

too.”

Carlotta gave her a flat smile, but didn’t respond as she

turned to go.

“One last thing?”

Carlotta turned back. “Yes?”

“While I have you here, you wouldn’t want to speculate on

your father’s whereabouts, would you?”

Carlotta swallowed hard. What was it about the reporter

that made Carlotta feel as if she could see directly into a

person’s head? “No, I wouldn’t.” She turned and walked

out of Rainie Stephens’s office, unsure if she’d just made a

friend…or an enemy.

20

“It was good of you to stay late today,” Meg offered as she

and Wesley left McCormick’s office and headed back to

their workstation.

Wes lifted his hand to push up his glasses, but when he

noticed the way it trembled, he quickly shoved it into his

pocket. “No problem.” He was eager to get the project

rol ing…and Meg had worn a skirt today.

“I was sorry you had to leave last night,” she said.

“Yeah, wel , duty called.” He longed to tel her that he’d

been picking up the latest victim of The Charmed Kil er,

but Jack had warned them not to talk about the case. And

he didn’t want to foul up the first call that Coop had

trusted him with.

“You missed the best part of the evening.”

“The end of the movie?”

“No, sil y, taking me home.”

A flush climbed his neck. He didn’t know what to say, so he

decided to keep his mouth shut and keep walking.

Meg sighed and stopped. “You’re totally blowing it, you

know.”

He stopped, too, utterly confused. “Blowing what?”

“You could be my boyfriend if you’d straighten up.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”

She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Hel o? Dude,

you’re not fooling anybody, especially me. You’re baked.”

“No, I’m not.” In fact, his head ached from lack of Oxy.

He’d had a hit last night after returning home from the

body moving gig just to relax after all the commotion, but

he had resisted all day—for her, dammit.

“If you’re not, then you’re worse off than I thought,” she

said, shaking her head. “What are you doing, meth or

Oxy?”

“Not that meth shit,” he said, then bit his tongue.

“Ah, you’re on the cotton. Figured.” She turned to walk

away.

“Hey, it’s just a baby habit,” he said after her. “I can quit

anytime.”

She turned around, walking backward. “Sure you can. See

you later, loser.”

Her smug remark sent anger whipping through him. Who

did she think she was, judging him? He didn’t want to be

her damn boyfriend anyway. Prim little princess was just a

cock tease. He’d been sporting wood all day, and for

nothing.

He checked his watch and muttered a curse. Because he’d

wanted to stare at Meg’s bare, tanned legs all afternoon,

he was going to be late for his meeting with Jack Terry and

Liz to discuss his working for The Carver. He turned and

stomped away, eager to put distance between himself and

the girl who lived to mess with his head.

At least he had his bike back. He pumped the pedals hard

toward the midtown precinct to work off his bad mood,

but Meg’s words ate at him like acid. When he got to the