Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (9 page)

“You obviously survived,” Green interrupted.

“Yeah, I was lucky. Someone broke my fall.” She glanced at

the glass again.

“Have you seen Michael Lane since that time?” Wick

resumed.

“Only on television, after he escaped, when he was being

chased by the police.”

“I understand that when he jumped over the bridge, you

were the one who informed the police that Michael

couldn’t swim.”

“That’s right, Michael once told me himself.”

“So you assumed he’d died in the fal ?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t.”

She sighed—this was going to be tedious. “Apparently not.

I found evidence that Michael Lane broke into the home I

share with my brother and was living in our guest room,

unbeknownst to us.”

“That’s quite a story,” Wick said wryly.

Carlotta didn’t respond.

“Your brother,” Green broke in, glancing over the file in

front of him. “That would be Wesley Wren?”

“That’s correct.”

“And both of you have records?” Wick asked, taking the

file. “Your brother for computer crimes and you for

assault?”

Carlotta squirmed. “I once used a tire iron on a man my

brother owed money to, but that was in self-defense.”

“And your brother’s computer hacking? Was that also in

self-defense?”

“No,” she conceded. “But Wes is on probation and doing

community service. He’s paying for his crime.”

“Your father is Randolph Wren, is that right?” Wick asked.

She tried not to react. “Yes.”

“And he’s a fugitive.”

“Isn’t that what your file says?”

Wick smiled. “Yes, it does. Do you know where your father

is?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

A few weeks ago at a Florida rest area. “Just before

Christmas, my senior year of high school.”

“He and your mother abandoned you and your brother?”

“Hey, ease up, partner,” Green said, then gave Carlotta a

sympathetic look.

They were playing her. “Yes, my parents abandoned me

and my brother.”

“Must’ve been tough,” Green offered.

“Wesley and I both are fine,” she said evenly.

Wick made a rueful noise in his throat. “Your files say

otherwise. It says here that last year you were questioned

in the murder of a man named Gary Hagan.”

“And does it also say I was cleared?” she asked. “He was

found dead at a party I attended—everyone was

questioned.”

“It says here that you crashed that party.”

She shrugged. “Party crashing isn’t a capital offense.

Besides…I don’t do that anymore.” Unless she had a very

good reason.

Wick scanned the file, using his finger as a pointer. “You

were also a suspect in the murder of, let’s see…Angela

Ashford?”

“And cleared again,” she said. “Angela was the wife of a

good friend of mine.”

“Hmm. Then you reportedly jumped off an overpass and

committed suicide?”

“That was actually Barbara Rook, a woman who stole my

identity. And she didn’t jump—she was murdered. The

D.A. asked me to go along and plan my own funeral to

draw out the murderer, who turned out to be Michael

Lane, by the way.”

“It’s our understanding that you were asked to plan your

own funeral to draw out your parents, not the murderer.”

She hardened her jaw. “Wel …it didn’t work.” Only Wesley

and Coop knew that Randolph had shown up in disguise.

She hadn’t even known it until she found the note he’d

slipped into her pocket.

“But wasn’t your father a suspect in the Barbara Rook

case?” Wick asked.

“My father seems to be a convenient suspect when there’s

no one else to pin things on.”

Wick sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Looks to

me as if trouble runs in the family. I understand you were

also on the scenes when three of the victims of The

Charmed Kil er were discovered.”

“I was there, but after the fact. I was helping to remove

the bodies from the scene.”

Wick leaned forward. “You’re a salesclerk at Neiman’s, but

you moonlight as a body mover?”

Her hairline felt moist. “Yes?”

Wick squinted. “I’m sorry, is that a question?”

Carlotta swallowed hard. “I mean yes…I sort of got into

body moving accidentally.”

“Let me guess—you just happened onto a crime scene one

night and started folding and stacking body bags?”

She frowned. “No. My brother began working with Cooper

Craft, who contracts with the morgue to haul bodies. I

went along a few times to help.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but that seems like a pretty

strange job for someone like you.”

“I don’t mind. Someone has to do it.”

Wick consulted another file. “So what can you tel us about

the crime scene of the first presumed victim, Shawna

Whitt?”

Carlotta thought back to the woman’s neat house, the

hush of her bedroom, and how the young woman had

been lying in her bed so peaceful y. “When Coop and I

arrived, the police had finished processing the scene. It

appeared as if she’d died of natural causes. Coop was the

one who noticed that she had a charm in her mouth.”

“Coop?”

“Dr. Craft. He used to be the medical examiner.”

“Yes. He’s coming in later today to talk with us. What

happened next?”

“Jack asked Coop—”

“Jack?”

She swal owed. “Detective Terry. He was on the scene

when we arrived.”

“Why was Detective Terry on the scene of a woman who

had presumably died of natural causes?”

“You’l have to ask him.”

“I’m asking you. Did he say?”

She searched her memory. “I believe he said he was in the

area when the call came in, dropping off his partner.”

“Detective Marquez?”

“I assume so. She is his partner.”

“Do Detectives Terry and Marquez have a relationship?”

She frowned. “What? I wouldn’t know.” She glanced to the

glass behind Wick and could almost feel Jack’s disapproval

burning through it.

Wick made a noise in his throat. “Let’s continue. You were

also on the scene of the second victim, Alicia Sil s, to

remove the body?”

“That’s correct. I was with my brother when Dr. Craft

called him. We went on the call, along with a friend who

sometimes helps out. The victim was lying on the kitchen

floor. It looked as if she’d fal en off a step stool and

suffered head trauma.”

“The report says that you found the charm in the victim’s

mouth.”

“Not exactly. The charm fel out of her mouth when we

attempted to move the body.”

Wick studied her, then angled his head. “Ms. Wren, did

you place those charms in the mouths of the victims?”

“No,” she said evenly. “I did not.”

He nodded to the charm bracelet she wore. “You seem to

be fixated on charms.”

The room suddenly seemed stifling. “I have a charm

bracelet, like a lot of other women do, especial y since Eva

McCoy made them so popular. That’s not a fixation.”

“You purchased the bracelet you’re wearing?”

“Actually, a coworker gave it to me.”

“Michael Lane?”

“No. Patricia Alexander. She bought one for herself and

one for me. The proceeds went to charity.”

“The foundation Olympian Eva McCoy set up to

commemorate the charm bracelet she wore when she

won the women’s marathon. It’s been all over the news. I

understand that you were present when Ms. McCoy’s

charm bracelet was stolen.”

“That’s right,” she said, wincing inwardly at the memory of

being facedown in a birthday cake the thief had rol ed into

the event as a diversion to steal the bracelet. “But the

bracelet was later recovered.”

“It says that you were involved in that, as wel .”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Good for you,” Wick chirped, then looked down at his file.

“Back to Alicia Sil s. Did you know that she worked in the

same building as your father’s former investment firm?

The one he embezzled from?”

“Allegedly embezzled from,” she said through gritted

teeth. “And it’s a huge office building. Thousands of

people have worked there in the past ten years.”

“Did you ever hear your father mention her name?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you ever see her with your father?”

She scoffed. “No. These are crazy questions.”

Agent Wick glared at her. “We’l be the judge of that, Ms.

Wren.” He snapped the papers he held to punctuate the

fact that he was stil in charge of the room. “Now to the

third victim, Pam Witcomb. Apparently you knew her?”

Carlotta frowned, confused. “Pam Witcomb?”

“Says here that she was a prostitute.”

“Oh, you mean Pepper. I didn’t really know her. I’d only

met her once.”

“Where?”

“On the corner of Third and West Peachtree. I was waiting

for a ride and she…was also waiting for a ride. We had a

conversation.”

“About what?”

She pressed her lips together and rol ed her shoulders. Her

blouse was stuck to her back.

“Ms. Wren, what did you and our murder victim talk

about?”

“Um…chocolate cake and blow jobs.”

Green coughed and Wick’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, we were just passing time. My ride came a few

minutes later, and that was it.”

“Where were you going?”

“Dr. Craft picked me up for a body-moving job that turned

out to be Shawna Whitt.”

Wick frowned and sifted through the papers in front of

him. “Is that in the file?”

Carlotta shrugged. “I don’t know why it would be. One had

nothing to do with the other.”

He pul ed on his chin and nodded. “Okay, on to the fourth

victim then—A.D.A. Cheryl Meriwether.”

“I didn’t know her.”

“But your brother did.”

She frowned. “Have you talked to Wesley?”

“No. His name is on a list of defendants that Meriwether

worked with over the last six months.” Wick crossed his

arms. “The Wrens are connected in some way to every

victim.”

She gave a strangled little laugh. “That’s…a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Wick asked, his voice light, but his eyes hard.

“Of course,” she said, but heat flooded her face.

From a bag he pul ed the charm bracelet that her father

had given her when she’d turned fourteen. From the

bracelet dangled fanciful charms that represented the

things she’d loved in her teens: handbags and shoes,

animals, flowers, cheerleading pom-poms and a tiny

convertible for the Miata he’d bought for her first car,

among other things. A tiny locked book reminded her of

the high-school diaries she’d taken to Peter’s so no one

would read them.

“Your father was also fixated on charms,” Wick ventured.

She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. The bracelet was

simply an age-appropriate gift for a teenager.”

“So you don’t think that your father is trying to

communicate with you through these kil ings?”

Her mouth watered to say that her father had been

communicating with her, and no one had died because of

it. But of course she couldn’t without opening another can

of worms. She felt Jack’s gaze on her, and wondered if she

should come clean about Randolph’s impromptu

appearances. She wavered. It really came down to

whether she thought her father was capable of doing such

heinous things.

“Ms. Wren,” Wick said in a steely tone, “do you think your

father is trying to communicate with you through these

kil ings?”

Agent Green was rapt and Agent Wick’s eyes glowed, as if

he was on the verge of breaking the case. Carlotta fought

to draw enough air into her lungs. “No, I don’t.”

“So for the record, you don’t know the identity of The

Charmed Kil er?”

Carlotta gripped the table and leaned forward. “No. Don’t

you think if I did, I’d tel someone to end this kil ing

spree?”

The agent’s dark eyes narrowed. “Maybe you like being in

the middle of something so sensational.”

So Maria had shared the “profile” she’d come up with for

Carlotta, as someone who liked to inject herself into

investigations. Carlotta seethed. “I want this to be over as

much as everyone else.”

“So you’d be wil ing to take a polygraph?”

“Yes. I already told the detectives that I’d do whatever was

necessary to clear myself of any involvement. That’s why

I’m here.”

Wick studied her until her skin prickled. Even Green

shifted in his seat.

“I need to get to work,” she said, and stood abruptly. Her

chair fel back and clattered against the floor.

“Okay,” Wick said, pushing to his feet. Green fol owed,

although he was stil scribbling in his notebook.

She made a move to right the chair.

“We’ll get that,” Wick assured her.

Carlotta strode to the door, in a hurry to get out of the

warm room.

“Ms. Wren?”

She turned back.

Wick put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Don’t

leave town.”

Carlotta gave a wry little laugh. “No worry there. I don’t

have transportation.”

When she walked out into the hallway, another door

opened and Jack and Maria appeared.