Authors: Stephanie Bond
stil blaring. The driver got out, a radio in his hand,
communicating to someone what had just transpired.
Jack.
Carlotta had taken two steps forward before she
remembered her father. She wheeled around…but he was
gone. She pivoted, looking in every direction, but it was as
if he’d vanished into thin air.
Again.
With her mind and heart both racing, she ran down the
incline to Coop’s van. Jack was there, talking to Coop,
whose pistol had mysteriously disappeared. Wesley was
shaking and had vomit on his T-shirt.
Jack and Coop both turned toward her. “Are you okay?”
they asked in unison.
“I’m fine.” In truth, she was a jittery mess. “Wesley, are
you hurt?”
He shook his head, but was pacing off the scare.
“Jack, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I called him to send a police escort to meet us,” Coop
said.
“But since I was only a couple of miles away, I
volunteered,” Jack said.
“We were stil on the phone when the green van pul ed
in.”
“Seems like you’re always where you need to be,” she
murmured for Jack’s ears only.
“Just doing my job.”
She glanced over Jack’s shoulder, wondering where her
father had gone, if he was watching them. “Coop, one of
the men looked like that guy at the morgue. Was it?”
“Yeah.” He turned to Jack. “White, tall, bald. He was at
Boca posing as a physician, trying to view the body.”
Jack scratched his temple. “Okay, so one of the guys fired a
pistol in the air, and the other one had a shotgun.”
She exchanged a glance with Coop, who put his hands on
his hips. “That’s not what I told you, Jack,” he stated.
“But that’s how it’s going to read in the report,” Jack said
pointedly, then gestured to Carlotta and Wesley. “I’m sure
the two of you wil corroborate that one of the perps fired
into the air.”
“Right,” Carlotta said, looking at Wesley and nodding until
he did the same. She was surprised but pleased that Jack
was bending the rules to protect Coop, who by his own
admission wasn’t supposed to own a handgun.
“Are these the same yahoos who tried to steal the van at
the restaurant?” Jack asked.
“I don’t think so,” Coop said. “I didn’t see who picked up
the hefty guy when he got away from the restaurant, but I
got a look at the driver of this van. It wasn’t the hefty guy.”
“So we have a hefty guy, and a tall, bald guy, who could be
working together, or not.”
Coop quirked his mouth, then nodded.
“I put out an APB on the van, but without a plate number,
I’m not holding out much hope that it’l turn up.”
“Jack, can you omit the Deerling woman’s name in these
reports?” Coop asked.
He nodded. “I’l handle it.” Then he turned to Wesley. “Are
you sure you don’t remember anything else?”
Wesley shook his head. He stil looked il . When Carlotta
thought about how close he’d come to getting shot, she
was terrified all over again. She wanted to console her
brother, but frankly, she was afraid if she looked at him,
she’d blurt out that she’d just seen Randolph. She had to
turn her back to col ect herself, and scanned the area once
again to see if their father might stil be there.
He wasn’t.
“Hey,” Jack said, walking around to face her. “Don’t
worry—those guys aren’t coming back.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Is something else bothering you? You look like you’ve
seen a ghost.”
She wil ed him to see the truth in her eyes so she wouldn’t
have to tell him that this might be the closest he’d ever get
to her father. It made her furious that Randolph simply
expected her to cover for him. It made her even more
furious that she was wil ing. Her eyes watered.
“Hey, hey,” Jack said, squeezing her shoulder. “You know I
can’t take the waterworks.”
“Sorry.” She blinked away the moisture. “It’s been a rol er
coaster of a weekend, that’s all.”
“You felt as if you were getting close to your father. You
must be disappointed.”
She smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“By the way,” he whispered. “You neglected to mention
that your brother accompanied you and Coop on this trip.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, you did.” He grinned. “It certainly puts a different
spin on your getaway weekend. At least for me.”
She frowned up at him, but before she could respond, the
passenger door of his sedan opened and Liz Fischer’s
blond head emerged. “Jack, is it safe to come out?”
“Yeah,” he called, but Carlotta felt him tense.
Liz walked up and gave her the once-over. Carlotta knew
she looked a fright in her coffee-stained slacks, sagging
ponytail and grubby fiberglass cast. Liz, on the other hand,
looked impeccable in a tan linen suit and Gucci loafers.
“Carlotta, I see you’re stil recovering from your infamous
tumble at the Fox Theater.”
“Yes. Of course, it would’ve been much worse if I hadn’t
fallen right into Jack’s arms.”
Liz pursed her lips. “How is it that you find yourself in the
most ridiculous predicaments?”
“I’m my father’s daughter,” she said sweetly. And
wondered if her father was witnessing this little exchange
between his daughter and his former mistress.
Jack cleared his throat.
“I think I’l go over and talk to my client,” Liz said, nodding
toward Wesley.
As the bony woman walked away, Carlotta got a whiff of
her strong perfume and winced. While she was trying to
remember where she’d smelled it before, she watched
Liz’s body language with Wesley—wiping his mouth with a
handkerchief, leaning into him, looking concerned as he
changed T-shirts…looking interested. And suddenly
Carlotta realized where Wesley had been all those nights
he’d come rol ing in, stinking of a woman. He’d been
stinking of Liz.
Carlotta choked on her anger. It wasn’t enough that Liz
had been having an affair with Randolph? Did she have to
get her claws in Wesley, too?
She spun toward Jack, who was watching Liz and Wesley
under his lashes and looking mighty uncomfortable. He
knew, she realized.
“Can’t keep your cat on a leash, Jack?”
He didn’t say anything.
Behind her, Coop asked, “Are you ready to go, Carlotta?”
“Am I ever. Wesley!” she cal ed. “Time to leave.”
Jack reached for her arm. “Carlotta—”
She ignored him and strode to the van, climbing into the
passenger seat. A migraine threatened to invade her entire
head, and her arm was throbbing. Coop slid into the
driver’s seat and looked over.
“You remembered the coffee.”
Carlotta glanced down to see she was stil holding one cup
of the vending machine coffee. She exhaled. “Yeah. It’s
probably cold.”
“Okay by me. Want to share?”
She nodded grateful y, and took a Percocet from the
prescription bottle in her bag. “Are you stil taking the
body directly to your uncle’s funeral home?”
“Yes, but I called him and asked him to have extra security
waiting.”
“This is unbelievable.” She swallowed the pil and chased it
with coffee. “Maybe Kiki’s death wasn’t an accident.
Maybe that’s why those guys want to steal her body.
Maybe they’re afraid that all the rumors about drugs wil
trigger an autopsy.”
He took the coffee from her and drank from the other
side. “If that’s the case, why would two different guys be
trying to steal the body?”
“Don’t forget the so-called priest. Maybe it’s a conspiracy.
Maybe they’re trying to steal her body so they can freeze-
dry it.”
He laughed. “That makes as much sense as anything else.”
Wesley opened the door and fel into the backseat.
“You okay?” Coop asked, turning around. “Those
antibiotics wil upset your stomach if you don’t take them
with food.”
“Thanks.” Wesley wiped his mouth with his hand. “Man,
you scared me to death. I thought you said you didn’t have
a gun.”
“I said I’m not allowed to own one,” Coop stated, turning
over the ignition. “Jack could’ve nailed my ass to the wall
back there.”
“He did the right thing,” Carlotta mumbled into the coffee.
Confounding man.
“What the hel was Jack doing down here, anyway?”
Wesley asked.
For a moment, she panicked. She hadn’t thought about
the possibility that Liz might spil her guts to Wesley about
their father’s fingerprints at the hotel. Then she relaxed—
apparently the woman hadn’t said anything. She felt
Coop’s gaze on her, urging her to confide in Wesley. But
with her father’s voice and image so fresh in her mind, she
wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not when she wanted to
strangle Wesley for fooling around with Liz.
“It was some case he was working on,” she said over her
shoulder.
Coop quirked his mouth, but didn’t comment. Putting the
van in Drive, he pul ed away, with Jack’s sedan bringing up
the rear.
Carlotta glanced in the side mirror, watching the rest area
retreat in the distance. She was almost numb, slowly
processing what had just transpired. On the heels of the
joy of discovering that her father was alive was the
certainty that he’d wil ingly ignored them all these years.
She had imagined as much, but the realization was stil a
bitter pil to swal ow.
And driving away, it felt as if she was losing her father all
over again.
19
Coop set her suitcase inside the living room door. Wesley
walked past them, and a few seconds later, his bedroom
door slammed.
“I didn’t realize how moody he is,” Coop said.
“I guess he has a lot on his mind,” she said, then muttered,
“Don’t we al .”
Coop rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “This wasn’t
exactly how I’d hoped the weekend would go.”
“You went way beyond the call of duty to deliver the body
to your uncle’s funeral home safe and sound.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she murmured, then picked up one of his long-
fingered hands. “I think our timing is off.”
He curled her hand inside his. “I’m ready and you’re not.”
She nodded. “I’m not. I just have too many things going on
right now.” She considered tel ing him about seeing her
father—she was bursting to tel someone—but she didn’t
want to put Coop in a position of having information about
a wanted fugitive.
He stepped forward and kissed her, a long, deep kiss to
tide them both over for a while. “Don’t forget what I said,”
he whispered.
“I won’t.”
At the door he turned back. “When your arm heals, wil
you stil consider a body-moving job now and then?”
“Sure. Stay in touch.”
“I wil .”
“Coop?”
“Yeah?”
She angled her head. “Tel the truth. Do you really think
Kiki Deerling died of an asthma attack?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not the M.E.” He
touched her nose. “And neither are you. Get some rest.
And call me if Wes gets to be too much of a handful.” He
smiled. “Or call me if you just want to talk.”
She nodded, but when the door closed behind him, she
murmured, “If only.”
Carlotta dragged her suitcase into her bedroom, then ran a
bubble bath. Everything hurt. She undressed slowly and
sank into the tub up to her neck, laying her arm on the rim
to keep her cast dry.
And then the tears came.
She cried over the messed up messy mess of her life, over
her parents’ failures and her own shortcomings. She
bawled over her own indecisiveness when it came to men.
She was afraid to choose. She didn’t want to make a
mistake that would come back to haunt her later, and
wreck the lives of others in the process. What did she
know about relationships, anyway?
She was better off alone rather than pul ing someone into
the dysfunctional vortex of her family and having them
end up hating her for it.
Like Coop…He seemed eager to love her, and her response
to him this weekend, frankly, blew her away. But she was
fairly certain she couldn’t meet his expectations. He was
lonely and needed a project; she was a handy fixer-upper.
Perhaps it was his experience with the twelve-step
program that made him so accepting, so optimistic. But as
tempting as it was to share her burden, she wanted at
least one man in her life who didn’t have a direct
connection to her parents.
Her rol in the hay with Jack had led nowhere. To him, she
was stil first and foremost the daughter of Randolph “The
Bird” Wren. A means to an end. According to her father,
the tap hadn’t been lifted from their home phone after the
fake funeral, as promised—and Jack had to know about
that, the rat. Just as he’d known about Liz “Mrs. Robinson”
Fischer getting her claws into Carlotta’s little brother.
She leaned over, picked up the cordless handset on the
floor and punched in Hannah’s number. After a couple of
rings the phone connected, but there was only silence on
the other end.