Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (22 page)

“Near Johnson Ferry Road,” someone said.

Not too far away, she realized. Jack should be there any

second.

“Do you think they’l shoot him?” someone near her

asked.

“Not unless he tries to hurt someone,” she murmured.

“Wel , I for one, hope they catch him and strap him down

this time,” Patricia said. “I’ve been a nervous wreck

thinking he’d come back for me.” She fanned herself.

“When I think how close I was to a murderer at that

concert, I can barely sleep.”

Carlotta glanced at her sideways, wondering what the

woman would think if she knew that Carlotta had first

suspected Patricia as the person who had masterminded

the identity theft ring.

When she’d first met Jack, he’d told her that anyone was

capable of murder. Since that time, she had come to

believe that it was probably true.

The aerial camera jerked, then zoomed in on the man’s

panicked face. Carlotta’s heart jumped and the room

erupted in gasps and exclamations.

“It’s really him!”

“He looks like a wild animal!”

Carlotta had to agree. Michael’s chiseled features were

sharp, the skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, his eyes

sunken. His dark hair was shaggy and his jaw was covered

with a few days’ worth of ragged beard growth. He did

indeed look wild and unstable as he ran doggedly away

from the pursuing helicopter.

The camera zoomed out, showing police cars approaching

from both directions on Johnson Ferry Road, stopping

behind traffic, angling their vehicles to create barriers and

waving civilians out of the way.

“If you’re just joining us,” the announcer said, “fugitive

Michael Lane, who escaped from the psychiatric unit of

Northside Hospital yesterday, where he was being held to

determine if he was mentally fit to stand trial for murder

and attempted murder in connection with an identity theft

ring, is on the run. He was reportedly spotted at the North

Springs MARTA station about thirty minutes ago and has

since eluded authorities on foot. Soon, however, the

fugitive wil have no place to go. Atlanta PD is closing in on

both ends of Johnson Ferry Bridge. Hopeful y we’l have a

nonviolent resolution soon.”

Carlotta chewed on her thumbnail as her heart thumped

against her breastbone. Michael ran to a car and pounded

on the driver side window, but the driver refused to open

the door. Michael pul ed out what looked like a surgical

knife and banged on the hood, his face contorted with

rage.

Exclaims sounded around the room.

“He’s going to kil somebody!”

“The police are going to shoot him for sure.”

Michael ran to another car, wielding the knife. The driver

shrank away, but refused to open the door. Horns

sounded from the cars all around, which were sitting

haphazardly on the bridge. Police officers poured from

their vehicles, many with their weapons drawn. Carlotta

saw Jack striding forward, a bul horn to his mouth. Her

breath caught in her lungs.

“The police are instructing people to lock their doors and

stay put,” the announcer said. “And apparently, they’re

trying to appeal to the fugitive.”

Michael jerked his head up and looked at Jack, who was

stil several yards away. Then he glanced at the wall of

police cars at either end of the bridge. Michael’s face

crumbled, obviously realizing he had nowhere to go.

Suddenly, he bolted for the side of the bridge and swung

his legs over the concrete railing.

“He’s going to jump!” Carlotta said. She couldn’t believe

the scene unfolding on the television. It was surreal.

“This isn’t good,” the announcer said. “It looks like Lane is

threatening to jump into the Chattahoochee River, a drop

equivalent to a three-story fall. And the waters of the river

are running rough from the recent heavy rains north of the

city. One plainclothes officer is trying to talk to him.”

Jack had halted a few feet away, stil speaking through the

bul horn. He held up his free hand in a stop signal,

obviously asking Michael to reconsider what he was about

to do.

Michael looked over his shoulder, then graceful y slid over

the edge, disappearing from view.

Everyone in the room gasped. Carlotta covered her mouth

with her hand.

“He jumped!” the announcer said. “Lane jumped!” The

helicopter zoomed to the other side of the bridge to catch

the action that their unfortunate position had caused

them to miss. But the shot showed only the thick brown

waters of the Hooch, ugly and choppy with more volume

than usual. The camera scanned the spot where Michael

would’ve entered the river, then the columns of the

bridge, the banks, and even a long shot downstream.

But Michael was nowhere to be seen.

The jerky camera shots captured Jack leaning over the

edge, scanning the water and the surrounding area with

binoculars. Then he jogged to the other side of the bridge

and looked downstream, his body language rigid.

“Oh, my goodness, what a nasty fall,” the announcer said.

“Assuming Lane wasn’t injured in the drop, it would stil

take a strong swimmer to fight the swift current of the

river. And Lane would have had to be tired after traveling

on foot almost four miles from the MARTA station.”

Carlotta closed her eyes. Michael was gone, but at least it

was by his own choice. She reached into her purse and

removed her cel phone. Walking away a few steps for

privacy, she punched in Jack’s number. After several rings,

he answered. “Goddammit, he got away.”

“I know. I watched everything on TV. But, Jack, it would be

a miracle if Michael survived that fall. He can’t swim.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. When he told me he was a long-distance runner, I

asked him if he competed in triathlons. He said no because

of the swimming segment. He told me he could barely

tread water.”

Jack heaved a sigh. “Okay, thanks for the info. We’l keep

looking for a body. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said shakily. “Just glad it’s over.”

“Me, too,” he said. “I’ll check in later.”

She disconnected the call and expel ed a pent-up breath.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Patricia asked, her eyes wide.

Carlotta nodded.

“Leave it to Michael to go out in dramatic fashion.”

Carlotta managed a bittersweet smile and left the melee in

the dining area to walk to her locker, glancing at Michael’s,

with anguish. Why did people have to be so complicated?

Trying to push the matter from her aching head, she left

the break room, tears pressing behind her eyes. She made

her feet move, and with every step, she felt a tiny bit

better. On the way to her station on the second floor, she

met Lindy, whose expression was grim.

“I just heard about Michael,” her boss said. “It doesn’t

sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Carlotta agreed, inhaling to compose

herself. Michael had done terrible things, but she’d known

him longer as a friend than as a murderer. She wondered if

he’d had some kind of psychotic break while in the

hospital. His behavior seemed to have stretched way

beyond narcissism into criminally insane.

“It’s hard to grasp that Michael’s gone,” Lindy said, “but

I’m glad that you’re safe. I understand he was at your

house yesterday?”

Carlotta frowned. “How did you know?”

“Detective Marquez called me this morning so we could

arrange extra security for you today.”

Carlotta tried to mask her surprise. “That was…nice of

her.”

Lindy made a rueful noise. “I’m truly sorry about Michael,

but at least you won’t be dragged through a lengthy trial.”

“There’s that,” Carlotta conceded with a nod. “I am ready

for things to get back to normal.”

“Me, too. I miss seeing your name at the top of the sales

sheet. Try to have a good day. If you need to take some

time, Patricia can cover for you.” Her boss walked off.

Carlotta closed her eyes to gather her reserves. Of course

Patricia would cover for her—she’d be happy to take

Carlotta’s job altogether. When she opened her eyes, the

woman was standing in front of her, holding a box of

tissues. Speak of the devil.

“I thought you might need these,” Patricia said, extending

the box.

“Thanks.” Carlotta snatched the tissues and strode toward

her station. She wished she could put her finger on why

the woman annoyed her so much.

Patricia fel into step beside her. “I see you’re wearing your

charm bracelet. Me, too,” she said, shaking her arm for a

jingle. “I decided to give it a chance, to see what happens.

Who knows? Maybe something exciting is just around the

corner for me.”

“Good for you,” Carlotta said sarcastically.

At the wounded look on Patricia’s face, though, remorse

washed over her.

Carlotta stopped and put her hand to her forehead. “I’m

sorry. I really just need to be busy right now. Do you mind

if we talk later?”

“No problem,” Patricia murmured.

She watched the prim woman walk away stiffly and

Carlotta chastised herself. Minus ten points. Patricia

wasn’t so bad, she was just so…inconvenient.

“Carlotta.”

At the sound of Peter’s voice, frustration bil owed in her

chest. Speaking of inconvenient. But by the time she’d

swung around, she’d manufactured a smile. “Hi.”

He looked handsome and polished in a black suit, snowy

shirt, and silver-gray tie. Concern furrowed his brow. “Hi,

yourself. I’ve been calling to check on you.”

“Oh.” She gestured vaguely. “We’re not supposed to have

our phones on the sales floor. I guess you heard about

Michael Lane?”

“That’s why I came. I’m sorry for him, but I’m also glad.”

She nodded. “Thanks. I know what you mean.”

“So,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets, “I drove

by your place late last night.”

Carlotta flinched because she had a feeling she knew

where the conversation was going. “Why didn’t you stop

in?”

“Because I wasn’t invited…and because Cooper Craft’s van

was sitting in your driveway.”

She looked at her feet, then back up to meet his gaze.

“Coop spent the night, but it’s not what you think, Peter.”

Hurt reflected in his cornflower-blue eyes. “Oh?”

“Jack was there, too.”

His expression went from hurt to confused to shocked.

“What?”

She held up her hands. “Let me explain.” She told him

about Michael Lane leaving the hospital bracelet on the

doorknob.

“That maniac was at your house?”

“Apparently. That’s why Jack stayed overnight—he set up

motion detectors outside in case Michael came back. Coop

stopped by unannounced around midnight.” She

squirmed, reluctant to share Coop’s secrets. “He was

having…personal problems and needed someone to talk

to, so I offered him a place to stay.”

“Did Lane come back?”

“No. Jack and his partner brought me to work this

morning. They got the call about him just as they dropped

me off.”

Peter looked contrite. “I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry

for saying anything.”

Any guilt she might have felt over her near-lapse with Jack

was mitigated by her irritation over Peter spying on her

house. And Jack’s pronouncement that perhaps she should

marry Peter made her feel inexplicably antsy around her

former fiancé. “I really appreciate you coming by, Peter,

but I have to get back to work.”

He nodded. “We’re stil on tomorrow night for Screen on

the Green?”

She smiled, warming toward his eagerness. “Absolutely. I’l

bring the picnic dinner.”

“And I’l bring the wine. Pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He reached forward to squeeze her hand. “Get some rest

tonight.”

She nodded. “I’m sure a lot of people wil be sleeping

easier.”

He strode away and she gave herself a stern lecture. She

had to declutter her mind and focus on her future before

her future got tired of her dragging her feet and went on

without her.

Certain that the day could only get better, she switched

into sales mode. She desperately needed strong

commissions this first pay period back after her medical

leave. Thankful y, the store was stil buzzing with

customers who’d heard that Eva McCoy’s famous charm

bracelet had been stolen and wanted to visit the scene of

the crime. The waiting list for the charm bracelets was

rumored to be several hundred names long now. Business

in her own department was steady and strong. Some of

her best customers who knew of her relationship with

Michael Lane came in, offering words of sympathy while

furtively trol ing for details. She obliged them with as few

facts as possible while processing high-dol ar purchases.

Controversy was good for business.

For lunch, she headed to the mal food court for half a

sandwich and an iced coffee. While she sipped, she

fingered the charm bracelet she wore and reflected on her