3 Men and a Body (5 page)

He scratched the back of his neck—she was starting to

learn his “tel s.” He didn’t want to say.

“Jack?”

“I can’t divulge anything that might impact open and

future investigations. But Hol is Carver has been helpful to

the APD in cleaning up the city.”

“Cleaning it up?”

He jammed his hands on his hips, feet wide. “Yes. Believe

it or not, Carlotta, there are a lot worse criminals in this

city than The Carver. People sel ing poison crack cocaine.

Sickos running pedophile rings. Serial kil ers—as if I have to

remind you. Hol is Carver lends money to foolish,

desperate people. Unless he starts kil ing off nonpaying

customers, it’s his business, not the police department’s.”

She stepped as close to him as she could get without

touching him, and lifted her chin. “So he has to kil Wesley

before you’l get involved, is that what you’re saying?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.

I sent a couple of uniforms to Carver’s warehouse to take a

look around. If we find something that might have

belonged to Wesley—his bike, for instance—then we’ll

have something to work with. Until then, you need to calm

down.” He glanced at Hannah, who was parked on the

couch. “Help me out here.”

Hannah scoffed. “You’re on your own, Starsky.” She

continued flipping through TV channels.

Carlotta looked up at him, changing tack. “I’m scared,

Jack.”

He sighed. “Carlotta, you’re not responsible for the

decisions made by the men in your family.”

“Why are you bringing up my father?” Her throat

constricted and she self-consciously rubbed her arm over

the area where the note was tucked into her bra. Her

heart beat faster, then she relaxed a little—Jack couldn’t

possibly know about the note.

He glanced away. Another tel . He was keeping something

from her.

But then, she was keeping something from him, too.

He looked back, his expression akin to pity. “I just hate to

see you keep getting dragged down by other people’s

mistakes.”

Carlotta set her jaw. “Wesley isn’t ‘people,’ he’s my

brother.”

Jack’s phone rang and he stepped away to take the cal .

Her chest ached with frustration and a clump of emotions

she couldn’t identify. Jack’s attitude was a timely reminder

that they were too different, that too many obstacles lay

between them. And that he had a very low opinion of her

family.

“Hey,” Hannah said from the couch. “You know that Kiki

chick we were watching on TV the other day? She’s fucking

dead.”

Carlotta turned, grateful for the distraction, even if the

news was disturbing. She walked over to glance at the

warped picture on the TV screen flashing Breaking News:

Kiki Deerling Dead At 21. “Turn it up.”

“As we first reported earlier today, Kiki Deerling was

pronounced dead at a Boca Raton, Florida, hospital around

three this morning, after being found unconscious by her

publicist at a club during a birthday party in honor of

Deerling herself. So far, authorities are being very hush-

hush as to the circumstances surrounding the starlet’s

death. Stay tuned for more details as they are available.”

Carlotta made a mournful noise for the loss of a young,

vibrant life. She had never met the woman, but like

mil ions of people, felt as if she knew her just from the

hundreds of TV impressions. And maybe Kiki didn’t

deserve her celebrity, but neither did she deserve an

abbreviated life.

“Probably drugs,” Hannah said matter-of-factly.

“Otherwise, why wouldn’t they say?”

“Maybe the truth isn’t titil ating enough,” Carlotta said.

Hannah glanced in Jack’s direction, then lowered her

voice. “Listen, considering you and the brooding detective

have a history, maybe you should request that someone

else work Wesley’s case.”

Carlotta surveyed Jack’s broad back and her anger

intensified. He obviously believed that whatever happened

to Wesley, her brother deserved it. “Jack does seem a little

too invested in the other side.”

The sound of a car pul ing into the driveway drew her

attention. She walked to the window and her frustration

spiked at the sight of the man climbing out of the luxury

SUV. Just what she didn’t need right now—a visit from

Peter. Although it was strange to see him driving

something other than his little two-seater sports car.

Then the passenger side door opened and she shrieked.

“Wesley!” She brushed past Jack, who was also staring out

the window, and closing his phone.

“Guess I can call off the nationwide search,” he said dryly.

She shot him a hateful look, then bounded out the door as

fast as her cast would allow her to move. Jack and Hannah

were right behind her.

Wesley was wearing clothes she’d never seen and pulling

his bike out of the back of the SUV. He looked drawn, but

safe. Beneath his long-sleeved shirt, his arm seemed stiff.

“Hey, sis.”

“Is that all you have to say? ‘Hey, sis’? Are you okay? Why

haven’t you called? Where have you been? Why are you

with Peter?” she demanded in a rush, then gasped, seeing

the cuts and bruises on his face. “What happened?”

“Relax,” he said, lifting his arm to deflect her attention.

“I’m fine. I had an accident on my bike and got a little

scraped up, that’s all. I didn’t call because my phone

battery died. I was close to Peter’s neighborhood when it

happened, so I went to his place. He let me clean up, and

gave me a ride home.” He tugged at the hem of the

overlong shirt. “I owe him for the clothes.”

“No, you don’t,” Peter interjected with a flat little smile.

With his blond good looks and impeccable wardrobe, he

could’ve held his own on the cover of Hamptons magazine.

Carlotta gave him a grateful smile, then looked back to her

brother. She wanted to believe his explanation but…“What

were you doing all the way up in Peter’s neighborhood?”

Wesley looked pained. “I rode up there to get in a card

game. Sorry. The good news is that after playing all night, I

broke even.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth, even more suspicious now that

he so readily admitted to going back on his promise to her

not to gamble. She looked at Peter, who seemed to be

looking everywhere but at her. She glanced at Jack, whose

expression told her he didn’t believe Wesley’s story any

more than she did. Then he shrugged, obviously wil ing to

forget the entire incident.

She was irritated with the lot of them. “We’l talk later,”

she muttered to Wesley. “Meanwhile, you need to call

Coop, who was out all night hunting for you, and your

probation officer.”

“Okay,” he said. Then he went over to shake Peter’s hand.

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Okay, now she was real y suspicious. Peter and her brother

barely knew each other, but Wesley had never bothered

to hide his disdain for Peter’s actions when their parents

left, dumping her and leaving her in the lurch. On the

other hand, she had told him about their father calling

Peter, so maybe Wesley had warmed toward her former

fiancé. Or maybe he’d ridden to Peter’s house to talk

about the phone call….

Wesley disappeared into the house, taking his secrets with

him for the time being. Hannah gave them a group wave.

“Since the prodigal son has returned, I’m outta here.”

“Thanks, Hannah, for staying with me,” Carlotta said to her

friend. “I’ll cal you.”

After Hannah pul ed away in her van, Carlotta was left

standing between Jack and Peter, each of whom seemed

to be waiting for the other to leave.

“I need to talk to you,” Jack said to her pointedly. When

Peter gave him a hard look, he added, “It’s business.”

“Can’t it wait?” she asked, not in the mood for more

sparring. “No.”

Peter shuffled his feet. “I guess I’l be going.”

“I’l walk with you,” Carlotta said, then fol owed him

around to the driver’s side of the SUV, giving them some

privacy from Jack.

“Peter,” she said quietly. “What really happened?”

“It happened just the way Wesley explained.” But his blue

eyes were evasive, his tone practiced.

Her heart swel ed with gratitude. “I have a feeling that I

owe you a great debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Peter said, taking her good

hand and lifting it to his mouth for a kiss that conjured up

images of other things he used to do to her when they

were younger. “I’l always be here for you, Carly, and for

Wesley.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. When Wesley had gone

missing, it hadn’t even occurred to her to call Peter. In

fact, she’d gone out of her way to conceal most of the

Wren family doings from him. She didn’t want him to

know that the warning his parents had given him ten years

ago—that her family would go to the dogs—had pretty

much happened.

“Don’t forget that I’m holding something for you.”

The ring. “I won’t forget.” And her heart was so ful of

good memories and goodwil toward Peter for helping

Wesley, she would have agreed to marry him at that

moment if he’d asked.

Instead he honored her previous request not to rush her,

and climbed in his vehicle. She waved until the car

disappeared, then turned back to Jack, whose disposition

seemed to have further soured.

“What did you need to talk about?” she asked. “If it’s

about Wesley, I don’t believe his story for a minute—”

“It’s about your father,” he interrupted.

Her heart stuttered. “What about him?”

“A Holiday Inn in Daytona Beach, Florida, was robbed at

gunpoint a few days ago. When all the fingerprints were

run, one set matched up to Randolph Wren.”

Her entire body tingled. She shook her head in confusion.

“What are you saying? That my dad robbed this hotel?”

“No. All I’m saying is that sometime recently, your dad was

there. He could’ve been a guest, or visiting a guest…”

“Or he could’ve robbed the place,” she finished.

Jack’s face told her that it was a distinct possibility. “I’m

driving down to take a look, but I wanted you to know. I’l

let you decide whether you want to tel Wesley.”

“I’l go with you,” she offered.

“Absolutely not.”

“But I’m off work right now—it’s perfect timing.”

“What part of ‘absolutely not’ don’t you understand?

Carlotta, you can’t get involved in your father’s case! I

can’t spend all my time saving you from the scrapes you

get yourself into.”

“But that’s the beauty of it. I’l already be with you.”

“No. No. No.”

“Are you taking your girlfriend, Liz?”

He puffed up, meaning she’d hit a nerve. “She’s not my

girlfriend. But…I thought I might ask her to ride along in

case I bump into her client while I’m there.”

“So they can have a tumble for old times’ sake? That’s nice

of you.” She squinted. “Why don’t you have a partner for

these kinds of things, Jack?”

“I’m on the waiting list, but the department is short of

manpower.”

“So when are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

She shook her head, frustrated with the whole situation.

“Don’t mention this to Wesley. And let me know if you

bump into dear old Dad.” Carlotta turned and walked

stiffly toward the house.

“Carlotta, don’t be like this. I didn’t have to tel you, you

know.”

But she didn’t look back because she didn’t want him to

see the abject humiliation coursing through her. Her father

had left a stink on the family that they couldn’t seem to

get away from. It was mortifying to think that of all the

policemen who could capture her fugitive father, it would

probably be Jack who ultimately brought him down.

6

Carlotta gave the new living room window one last swipe,

then stood back to admire the shine. But instead of

crystal-clear sparkle, the glass was smeared with cloudy

streaks.

“You have to use newspaper to get the best shine,”

Wesley said from behind her.

She turned and frowned. “You don’t say? I see you

decided to grace the world with your presence today. It’s

almost noon.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was up most of the night before.”

Seeing the dark circles under his brown eyes, she nursed a

pang of remorse. He looked so much like their father—

lean, with sharp features a male model would kil for. But

he didn’t have their father’s confidence, the ability to win

over a room. Wesley was more cerebral. He preferred his

books to people. She was sure he had no idea how

handsome he was. “Are you ever going to tel me what you

were doing?”

“I told you. I was playing cards.”

“Uh-huh.” She eyed his clothing. “It’s pretty warm today

for long sleeves, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, but she could see the bulk of a bandage

beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“You must have scraped your arm pretty badly,” she said,

fishing.

“Man against asphalt, asphalt always wins.”