Authors: Stephanie Bond
“And she agreed?”
“Only because the D.A. offered to do something for me,
which he later reneged on.”
“But the ploy didn’t work?”
“My father must have suspected it was a trick. He showed
up in disguise, slipped a note into my sister’s pocket.”
Her eyes went wide. “What did it say?”
“That he was proud of us, and he would see us soon.”
“And have you heard from him since?”
Wes hesitated, but he hated her thinking the worst of his
parents. “Dad came up to Carlotta a few weeks ago at a
rest area in Florida.”
“She’d planned to meet him there?”
“No. He must have been fol owing us. I was there, too, but
I was in the car. He just walked up to her at a vending
machine. Right under the nose of police.” He grinned.
“He’s got bal s.”
Meg looked less than convinced. “And then he
disappeared again?”
“Yeah. But he said he’d been keeping tabs on us.”
“Did he say what they’ve been doing all this time?”
“He said my mom had been sick some, and that he’d been
gathering evidence to prove his innocence.”
“So he’s going to come back?”
“I think so.”
Meg stared at him. “Wow. I can’t believe all these things
have happened to you.”
He shrugged, feeling worldly. “Believe it.”
He could almost see the wheels in her head turning, but
then she started sucking on the plastic stir stick, and he
was totally distracted. She glanced at her watch. “I have to
get going.”
“Big plans?” he asked casually.
“I’m committed to help out Habitat for Humanity today.”
She rol ed the printout and stuffed it into her shoulder
bag. “What about you, are you moving bodies today?”
“I’m on call, so maybe. And I’m trying to locate a guy
named Jett Logan. Do you know him?”
She squinted. “Yeah—he’s an ATO. Alpha Tau Omega. Big
party fraternity. How do you know Jett?”
“Uh…I don’t. But I’m trying to get a message to him from a
mutual friend.”
Meg angled her head. “ATO is having a Hawaiian party
tonight. Go with me.”
“Do you think Logan wil be there?”
“Yes, but more importantly, I’l be there.”
“Okay,” Wes said, his heart beating faster.
She picked up the wilting bouquet of flowers. “I’l be in
front of the ATO house, say, at eight?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’l be there.”
She walked to the door, then turned back. “Wes?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the flowers.” She bounced out of the coffee
shop and into her electric car like a ball of sunshine. He
was dismayed at how much he wanted to go after her. But
he needed to drop by the morgue and fish around for
answers to the questions in The Charmed Kil er case he’d
promised Carlotta he’d look into. And he needed to do it
before the Oxy wore off and left him with another raging
headache.
He’d just wheeled into the morgue parking lot and was
locking up his bike when his regular cel phone rang. He
pul ed it out and his stomach clenched at the sight of Liz
Fischer’s name on the screen.
He flipped up the phone. “Hi, Liz.”
“Hi there, handsome. What are you doing tonight?”
He closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to be with Meg…but
Liz was a sure thing, and sex might help him deal with the
lack of Oxy.
But Meg was also his connection to Jett Logan, and he
didn’t want to disappoint The Carver.
“Uh, I have a commitment later, but I could come over
earlier, around seven?”
“See you then,” she said, then ended the call.
Wesley closed the phone and moved toward the morgue,
nursing unease. His involvement with Liz made him
uncomfortable, especially when he was feeling a strange
sense of momentum about his dad’s case. Randolph had
shown himself to Carlotta twice in the past few months,
and now they’d uncovered a bug in the townhouse. If their
dad had planted the device, would their absence from the
house make him wonder if something was wrong? Would
he reappear soon? And if he did, would he reveal himself
to Wesley this time?
Wes glanced around the parking lot, alert for any signs of
being fol owed. When he saw no one, he fought
disappointment. Then he reminded himself that now
would be a crummy time for Randolph to appear, when his
name had been mentioned in connection with The
Charmed Kil er case. Remembering Carlotta’s comment
about Randolph’s possible involvement with one of the
victims, Wes hardened his jaw.
He didn’t want to believe that Coop had anything to do
with those murders. But what if proving Coop’s innocence
made his father look guilty?
9
Peter looked up from his cereal and newspaper as Carlotta
walked into the kitchen, eyeing her pantsuit. “I thought
you were off today.”
“Uh…Lindy asked me to come in for a trunk show,” she
lied. Peter would be livid if he knew she’d planned to use
her Saturday off to run down leads in The Charmed Kil er
case.
Disappointment creased his face. “I was hoping we could
hang out by the pool.”
“Another day,” she promised with a smile, stopping at the
fridge to pour a glass of orange juice.
“Did you sleep well?”
Her thoughts returned guiltily to Jack’s late night tuck-in.
She’d slept soundly until the daylight had fallen across her
face. “Yes, thank you. You?”
He nodded absently, but the pinched look around his eyes
betrayed him. She wondered how much her being in the
house, as well as her father’s situation, were contributing
to his insomnia. On top of her and Peter’s awkward
attempts to repair their relationship, her father had
dragged the poor guy into his mess by calling him a couple
of months ago. Randolph had asked Peter for his help in
clearing his name at the firm where Randolph had once
been a partner and where Peter now worked. Of course
Peter had agreed. He’d do anything to get back into her
good graces, she realized.
“You look tired,” she murmured, caressing his cheek.
“Just a lot on my mind,” he said, folding his hand around
her fingers and kissing the tips. Then he touched the
charm bracelet she wore. “I heard these bracelets were
supposed to foretel the future.”
“Ha, ha,” she said nervously.
“What kind of charms do you have?”
She tried to pul away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s sil y.”
“Then show me,” he said, turning her wrist. “Does that
one say ‘aloha’?”
She nodded. “See? It makes no sense.”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Hawaii sounds like a
romantic place to visit. And the champagne glasses, wel …”
He grinned. “That could give a man hope.”
She blushed.
“And let’s see, is that a puzzle piece?”
“I haven’t put together a puzzle since Wesley was a kid.”
“But you’re a puzzle,” he said with a smile, then squinted.
“Is that…three hearts?”
From his sour expression she could tel he’d done the
math and didn’t like the bottom line. “See, I told you it’s
sil y.” She gently pul ed her wrist out of his grasp.
“What’s the last charm?”
She gave a wave. “A woman doing yoga. Maybe that’s a
sign I should start exercising more.”
“You look perfect to me.”
She gave a little laugh, happy that she didn’t have to reveal
the charm of the woman lying down with her arms crossed
over her chest, corpselike. “Thank you, Peter.”
“I do worry about you. Michael Lane is stil out there.”
“The store is stil providing a security guard to watch over
me. And everyone there knows Michael.”
He sighed. “Then I guess if you can’t be here with me,
being at work is the next safest place to be.”
“Right,” she said with a forced smile. “I’d better get going.
Do you have the keys to the rental car?”
Peter pointed to the keyless remote and ignition key lying
on the end of the table. “Have you given any more thought
to setting a date for our Vegas trip?”
“No, but I wil .” She picked up the key, then dropped a
good kiss on his mouth before walking toward the sliding
glass door.
“Can we do something tonight?” he called.
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’l call you later. Have a great
day!” She waved and closed the door behind her, juggling
the cup of juice. Her chest felt tight over the lies. Guilt
always seemed to be close at hand when she was around
Peter. But if she could help prove Coop wasn’t The
Charmed Kil er, her head would be clear enough to get on
with her life. At least that was the story she was sticking
with.
To assuage her mind a tiny bit about lying to Peter, she
swung by the mall, thinking if Michael Lane was watching
her, she’d want to give him the chance to approach her in
a public place. Inside the mall, she visited kiosks, jewelry
shops, and department stores that sold charms, asking
about the people who’d purchased them lately. She
showed the sales clerks Michael Lane’s picture, hoping to
trigger a memory.
“Isn’t this the guy who jumped in the Chattahoochee
River?” one woman asked.
“Yes,” Carlotta admitted. That wasn’t the memory she’d
been hoping for.
“Haven’t seen him, except on TV. Why are you asking
questions?”
“I knew one of the victims,” Carlotta said, thinking of the
prostitute Pepper and the cheeky conversation they’d had
only days before the woman had been found stabbed. “I’m
simply making my own inquiries. And I knew Michael
Lane.”
“You think Michael Lane is The Charmed Kil er instead of
the guy they arrested?” the woman pressed.
“All I know is that with recent budget cuts, the police
department is shorthanded,” Carlotta offered. “I’m just
trying to do some legwork for them.”
“Oh, I see.”
She knew she could get in a world of trouble for making it
sound as if she was working with the APD, but she was
desperate. She also knew there were about a thousand
places in Atlanta alone that sold charms, not counting the
Internet. Add to the mix the fact that some stores had
removed their charms from display in deference to the
highly publicized rash of kil ings, while other stores had
added them to take advantage of heightened interest, and
it was difficult to tel which stores had been sel ing charms
before the serial kil er had made the trinkets infamous.
The police and the GBI were no doubt working those leads,
but she suspected they were taking the angle of proving
their prime suspect—Coop—guilty.
As she moved through the mall, she kept looking over her
shoulder for Michael, but she didn’t notice anything
suspicious. After checking all the possibilities and coming
up empty, she returned to the rental car, standing back in
the parking lot and making sure no one else was around
before she depressed the button on the keyless remote.
When the doors unlocked with a chirp instead of an
explosion, she sighed in relief. Jack said he was stil trying
to find out who had put the bomb underneath her Monte
Carlo, but with the device in so many pieces, his
investigation to this point had yielded no leads.
After she slid behind the wheel of the Civic, Carlotta
reached into her bag for the notebook containing her
notes and clippings about the murders. The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution had featured profiles on each victim.
The first victim, Shawna Whitt, had worked at a chain
bookstore in midtown, which also doubled as a textbook
store to nearby Georgia Tech. Carlotta drove the rental car
there next.
The bookstore was relatively empty due to the summer
break. Carlotta walked around, jingling her charm bracelet
loudly and feigning interest in it every time she got close
to a female employee, giving them an opening to make
conversation about The Charmed Kil er case. No one took
the bait. Finally she bought a coffee at the café, allowing
her charm bracelet to jangle noisily on the counter while
she waited.
“I like your bracelet,” the server commented. She wore a
name tag that read “Monica.”
Carlotta smiled. “Thank you. I stopped wearing it for a
while when that serial kil er was on the loose.”
The woman’s face clouded, then she leaned in and
whispered. “A girl who used to work here, Shawna, was
one of the victims.”
Carlotta gasped. “How awful. Did you know her?”
Monica nodded and handed over the coffee. “Shawna had
a bracelet like that one.”
Carlotta extended money for the drink and dropped a bil
in the tip jar. “Do you know where she got it?”
“She bought it as a birthday gift for herself.”
“These bracelets are supposed to be unique. Do you
remember the charms that were on your friend’s
bracelet?”
The woman squinted. “I remember a little phone, and a
pair of hands that were locked, like a couple.”
Shawna Whitt had mentioned the intertwined hands
charm in an entry on The Charmers online community
forum that Carlotta had come across after the murder. The
site had since been taken down. “What other charms do