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Authors: Stephanie Bond

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help Coop.”

“I suppose. But I was hoping it would lead us to a smaller

group of suspects.” She looked at Chance. “Hannah said

you’d talked to some people who knew Pepper?”

He nodded. “Two of her friends said Pepper was having

trouble with a guy.”

“Who was he?”

“A customer. They didn’t have a name, but they said he

was a doctor.”

Carlotta’s pulse raced. “Did anyone see this guy?”

“No. She just complained about him a couple of times, said

he gave her the creeps.”

“Do they know if she was supposed to meet this person

the night she was kil ed?”

“No, they didn’t see her the night she died.”

“Did they say if this man ever gave her jewelry? Or did she

have a nickname for him?”

Chance snapped his fat fingers. “She called the guy Doc.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth. “So he could’ve been a doctor,

or someone who said he was a doctor, or Dr. Doolittle?”

Chance frowned. “Who?”

“Never mind,” Hannah said, patting his hand. “You did

good.”

Carlotta sighed, feeling contrite. “Yes, Chance, thank you.

Do you have the names of the two friends you talked to?”

“It was Whisper and Tambourine. They hang out at the

donut place on Ponce.”

Carlotta wrote down the names and the nickname “Doc,”

but even as she did, she realized she would only be giving

the authorities more reason to suspect Coop. With

tempered optimism, she looked up to Wes. “Have you

seen Liz?”

“Yeah.”

“Spare me the sordid details,” she said, holding up her

hand. “Did you find out anything about Coop?”

Wes frowned. “Nothing good. Liz says that Coop doesn’t

act like an innocent man. She’s worried.”

“That’s all she said?”

“She asked me if I thought he was The Charmed Kil er.”

Panic began to bubble in Carlotta’s stomach. If Coop’s

attorney thought he was guilty, things were looking bleak.

“What did you tel her?”

“I told her the Coop I knew couldn’t do it.”

The Coop they knew. Carlotta felt queasy. Was there a side

of Coop they didn’t know?

“You said you came across some new info?” Hannah asked

Carlotta.

Carlotta reluctantly relayed what Shawna Whitt’s

coworker had revealed—that Shawna had worn a bracelet

and one of the charms had been a chicken, and that the

guy at the information desk had ID’d Coop as a frequent

customer. She also told them about the white van

Shawna’s neighbor had seen the day before her body was

found. When she finished, she wet her lips and glanced

around the table. “So I need theories to help explain the

coincidences. Anybody?”

They all stared back at her.

“I’m waiting,” she said, tapping her pen on her notebook.

Chance scratched his chin. “Uh…everybody’s lying?”

Carlotta frowned.

“Okay,” Hannah said, leaning forward. “When we last

talked, we said there were two ways to tackle this. We

could either disprove it’s Coop, or prove it’s someone else.

Carlotta, do you stil think Michael Lane is The Charmed

Kil er?”

“Yes. By the way, he’s blond now. A bartender at Moody’s

confirmed that Michael was in the bar last weekend when

I was there.”

Wesley looked concerned. “You didn’t see him?”

“No, but someone fol owed me into the ladies’ room. The

person didn’t talk, but I smel ed cologne that seemed

familiar. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me it

might’ve been Michael. The fact that the bartender ID’d

him confirms it.”

“But Lane is stil unaccounted for?” Hannah asked.

Carlotta nodded. “Jack’s working on it now since the GBI is

keeping him away from The Charmed Kil er case. I met

with a reporter for the AJC yesterday and she agreed to

help me think of something that might flush Michael out

of hiding.”

Wes made a strangled noise. “You’re going to taunt this

guy?”

“I stil have a security detail at the store, and the stun

baton Jack gave me. I’l be careful.”

“That lunatic probably blew up your car!”

“I appreciate the concern, Wes, but let me handle this.

You’ve got your own problems,” she added with a

meaningful look.

“How was your interview with the GBI this morning?”

Hannah asked.

Carlotta sighed. “Predictable. They’re stuck on Coop, even

though I pointed out there were other suspects.”

“Are there others besides Michael Lane?”

Carlotta exchanged a look with Wesley. “Our father’s

name came up in the investigation.”

“But it was spit out as part of a profile, wasn’t it?” Hannah

asked.

“Right.” Carlotta frowned. “I think the APD’s new profiler

is eager to get her picture in the paper.”

“I saw her picture,” Chance offered. “She’s smoking hot.”

Hannah whacked him on the arm.

“But she’s nothing compared to you, babe,” he added

obediently.

Hannah looked smug, then glanced back to Carlotta. “So

they don’t have anything else on your father, right?”

“I…told the police that he gave me a charm bracelet when

I was fourteen. Jack asked for it, and I gave it to them.”

“That’s a pretty thin thread,” Hannah said.

She doodled in the margin of her notebook. “And as it

turns out, Randolph knew the second victim, Alicia Sil s.”

“The lady we thought fel off the stepladder?” Hannah

asked.

Carlotta nodded. “The two of them used to work together

and…maybe more.”

Wesley lurched forward. “You didn’t tel the GBI, did you?”

She caught his gaze, then nodded. “I told them this

morning.”

“Why?” he demanded.

“To plant doubts and maybe buy Coop some time.”

Wes stood and paced away from the table. Carlotta wasn’t

sure how much of his agitation was with her and how

much was due to the Oxy. He shoved his hands in his

pockets, probably to hide the tremors, she realized. When

he got to the wal , he banged his palm against it, then

strode back.

“I was at the morgue yesterday,” he blurted. “The burned

body is stil unidentified. But Kendall Abrams told me the

charm pul ed out of the victim’s mouth is a bottle.”

Carlotta turned to the page where she’d made notations

about the charms. “Any particular kind of bottle?”

“No…just a bottle.”

But something in his tone made her look up. “Is there

something you aren’t tel ing me?”

He wiped his hand over his mouth. “I was thinking about

all the charms that had been left behind, trying to figure

out if they had something in common.”

Carlotta leaned on her elbows. “And?”

“The first charm was a chicken, right?”

She nodded.

“Chicken…coop.”

She scoffed. “That’s a stretch.”

“The second charm was a cigar,” Wes continued. “And

Coop hangs out at Moody’s. Plus he col ects cigar boxes—

I’ve seen them in his van.”

“But those are for a hobby of his,” Carlotta said. “I

explained it all to the GBI this morning. That’s why they

found charms in his house—he uses them to create

miniature scenes in cigar boxes. Coop showed me the tiny

library he’s working on now.”

Hannah averted her gaze.

“What was the third charm?” Wes persisted.

Carlotta checked the list. “A car.”

“Coop is a car buff. Look at that primo classic Corvette he

drives. What was the fourth charm?”

“A gun.”

“Coop has a handgun. We saw it when we were in Florida,

when those guys started firing at the rest area. Coop

pul ed out his pistol and shot back, remember?”

Carlotta remembered. Because of his record, Coop wasn’t

allowed to own a gun. Jack had covered for him after the

shooting incident.

“What was the next charm?” Wes prompted.

She looked down at her notes and blinked rapidly to focus

on her own writing. “Handcuffs.”

“We al known Coop’s worn those before,” Wes offered.

“And the next charm?”

“A keg…maybe a barrel,” Carlotta murmured.

“A barrel maker is called a cooper,” Wes said, then waited

a beat for the info to sink in. “Are you starting to see the

pattern, Sis?”

Carlotta pushed to her feet. “No…it doesn’t mean

anything.”

“The charm left in the next victim’s mouth was a bottle,”

Wes said. “That’s pretty self-explanatory. And the last two

charms were books. Coop is an egghead, and you said he

was working on a miniature library.”

She nodded, numb.

“So what if…” Wesley trailed off, then lifted his hands.

“What if Coop was using those last charms to steer the

police back to the bookstore where he met the first

victim?”

Carlotta shook her head. “I don’t believe it…I can’t believe

it.”

“You don’t want to believe it,” Wes said. “None of us do,

Carlotta. But you have to face facts. It’s starting to look as

if Coop really is The Charmed Kil er.”

Carlotta blinked back tears. She’d had doubts herself,

hadn’t she? Hadn’t she opened her mind to the sliver of

possibility that Coop’s proximity to death had driven him

to indulge in horrific urges? That it was so contrary to his

normal personality that he was able to keep that side of

himself hidden from others?

But she’d seen other sides of Coop that the people in this

room hadn’t seen. She’d seen him in tender, vulnerable

moments during their walks on the beach in Florida, when

he was matter-of-fact about his problem with alcohol. And

later, when they’d almost made love before Wes had

interrupted them with an emergency. Coop had been

warm and funny and romantic. How could she believe that

mere weeks later, he would embark on a kil ing spree?

Carlotta lifted her chin. “There’s nothing you can say to

convince me that Coop is The Charmed Kil er.”

Wes shook his head, then gripped the back of a chair.

“Since you told the GBI about Dad being acquainted with

one of the victims, I assume you told them about

everything else—what you learned at the bookstore about

Coop? And about the van spotted in the victim’s

neighborhood?”

“No,” she murmured.

He threw up his hands. “You’re in denial, Sis.” He reached

for his backpack. “I gotta go to work.”

“Me, too,” Hannah said apologetically, pushing to her feet.

Chance fol owed, sending wary looks in Carlotta’s

direction, as if he thought she might be losing her mind.

“Thanks for your help, both of you,” Carlotta said. “I’l

keep you posted.”

Hannah and Chance nodded, but she could read in their

expressions that from here on out, she was on her own.

“Wesley,” she cal ed before he could get away. He said

goodbye to Hannah and Chance, then came back.

“What?” A muscle worked in his jaw.

She studied his face, ticking off the physical symptoms of

Oxy abuse he was showing against the list she’d

memorized from the Internet: bloodshot, twitchy

eyes…blotchy skin…parched lips. He needed a kick in the

pants, but she’d always spoiled him. Perhaps she’d loved

him too much.

She stood to face him. “Wes…if you don’t take care of this

drug habit of yours, I’l turn you in myself.”

Wesley’s lips parted. “You’d send me to jail?”

“Yes, I would.”

Anger darkened his expression and his body shook. “Of

course you would. You’ve thrown Dad under the bus. Why

not me, too?” He turned around and stormed toward the

door.

“Wes—wait!”

But he was gone. The second man who’d walked away

from her today. And it wasn’t until he’d disappeared that

she remembered she’d forgotten to ask him how he’d

gotten rid of the fire ants.

17

“Thanks for the ride,” Wes muttered to Mouse as the

Town Car pul ed into the parking lot of the county morgue.

“No problem,” Mouse said. “You okay, little man? You

kicked ass today col ecting, but you’ve been in a bad mood

all afternoon.”

Wes just wanted to get out of the car. This morning at

work, Meg had treated him like a paperweight. Then

Carlotta not only refused to believe the mounting

evidence against Coop, but had offered up their father as a

diversion to the GBI. Top that with being a nervous wreck

that Mouse would somehow find out about the money

he’d col ected from Jett Logan and then lost, and Wes had

been glad to have an outlet for his nervous energy.

Although he harbored a bit of remorse for swinging the

baseball bat—and connecting—more than usual, the result

had been impressively higher col ections.

“I just have a headache,” he assured Mouse.

“Maybe it’s from all those little white pil s you’re taking.”

“Dude, I told you—I got it under control.”

“Really? You’re as moody as my wife. Your hands shake

like an old man’s. And you’re jumpy as hel .”

“I just got a lot on my mind.”

“Did you ever find out who planted the bug in the wall of

your place?”

“No. I’l probably just drywall over it.”

“Not a bad idea,” Mouse agreed.

“Listen, since we had a good col ections day, would you

mind if we skipped tomorrow?” He jerked his thumb over

his shoulder. “Things are busy at the morgue, and I’ve

BOOK: Six Killer Bodies
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