2 Bodies for the Price of 1 (12 page)

“If I agree to this…hoax?”

“Right. And then there’s the reward money.”

Carlotta squinted. “
What
reward money?”

“Ten years ago the firm that your father worked for put up a one-hundred-thousand dollar reward for information leading to the capture of your father. It’s still in effect.”

She blinked in surprise. “Mashburn and Tully? I had no idea.” Did Peter know?

“Lucas said if this pans out, he’ll arrange for you to have the reward money.”

“For turning in my father?”

Jack put down his cup and reached forward to touch her arm. “I know this is hard for you, but think of it as a way for you and your brother to…make up for lost time. Wesley could go to college. And you could start over too—do things that you’ve always dreamed of.”

She bit into her lip in confusion. The ramifications were simply too far-reaching for her to comprehend.

“Carlotta, your father
will
be caught eventually, especially now that Lucas is back on his trail.”

“And you,” she said, pulling her arm away from his touch.

“And me,” he agreed. “Luring your father in like this is the safest way to take him into custody. If we have to hunt him down, someone could get hurt.”

One or both of her parents or even Jack. Her mind raced; there had to be another way. She could tell Jack about her father calling her and Peter and let him follow those leads to Randolph Wren. But if she did it this way, Lucas would fix Wesley’s fine. And the reward money…Wesley could go to Emory with that kind of money…become a scientist…cure something.

To stall for time, she took another drink but the coffee left a metallic taste in her mouth.

Jack’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “That’s Lucas. I need your answer.”

“What’s going on?”

Carlotta turned to look at Wesley, who walked into the kitchen, dressed for his job as a body mover.

Her brother with the genius IQ was moving bodies for a living.

“Tell Lucas I’ll do it,” she said to Jack.

Jack stared at her for the space of two heartbeats, then stood and walked to the far end of the kitchen to take the call.

“Lucas?” Wesley asked. “Kelvin Lucas, the asshole D.A.? What’s going on?”

“Sit down and I’ll tell you,” Carlotta said, feeling resolute, but ill. “Don’t interrupt. And—for once—you’re going to do exactly what I say, young man. No arguments.”

15

W
esley stared at Carlotta, unable to believe what she was proposing. Incredulous, he pushed up from the table and snorted with anger. “Pretend you’re dead to draw out Mom and Dad?
No way
.”

Carlotta sighed. “I know it sounds drastic, but it also makes sense.”

“For the lousy reward money?” he screeched. “We’d be selling out to the cops!” He glared at Detective Terry who was returning his phone to his belt.

“It’s a good deal for you, Wesley,” the man said. “If everything goes as planned, Kelvin Lucas is willing to reduce your probation and your fine.”

Wesley set his jaw. How dare the man stand in his kitchen and patronize him. Fury pumped through his body, propelling him closer to Jack. He lifted his finger to within inches of the man’s nose. “You, get out of my house.”

“Wesley—” Carlotta began.

“You’re just Lucas’s errand boy,” Wesley sneered. “You can tell that fat bastard that we’re not going along with it, we’re not going to betray our parents.”

“Wesley, your parents betrayed
you,
” the detective said quietly.

Wesley didn’t think, only reacted. His fist shot out, but Jack Terry dodged it and grabbed his arm.

“Wesley!” Carlotta shouted behind him. A chair clattered to the floor.

The brawny cop held on to his arm with a steely grip, his expression menacing. “I’m going to overlook that because you’ve been through a shock over your sister.”

“I don’t need your sympathy.” Wesley wrenched his arm away.

“That’s enough,” Carlotta said, stepping between them. “It’s already done, and you’re going to go along with this, whether you like it or not.” Her face softened. “Wesley, this is for the best for us…for me.”

At the anguished look in her deep brown eyes, Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. He wanted her to be happy, not to be so burdened. But was this the answer? He felt as if he were in a vise, being squeezed on all sides, caught between his parents and his sister, all of whom he loved.

“You can’t stop it, Wesley,” Detective Terry said. “And we need your cooperation.”

“Please,” Carlotta added.

Wesley closed his eyes. “What would I have to do?”

“Just be alert,” the detective said. “Answer the door and the phone and if it’s a neighbor or a friend, you have to pretend that Carlotta’s…gone.” He shot an apologetic look at her. “If one of your parents calls, we’ll trace it, but you’ll need to keep them on the line as long as possible and try to get them to come here to the house.”

“What if they call on my cell phone?”

“Tell them that you need to call them back, then get their number and call me. If that doesn’t work, then say your battery is dying and to call you at home.”

Wesley gave a curt nod, registering the fact that adrenaline was flowing through his veins at the thought of talking to his dad soon—possibly within hours. What would he say? And if his father was taken into custody, could he really get a fair trial?

“Also, when you’re coming and going from the house, you might be approached.”

“By one of my parents?”

“It’s what we’re counting on.”

“And then what am I supposed to do?”

“Try to get them to come into the house. I’ll be here.”

Wesley noticed the confusion that passed over Carlotta’s face. “You’ll be here?” she asked.

The cop nodded. “Didn’t I mention that I’ll be staying here until this is over?”

16

A
t Jack Terry’s casual pronouncement, Carlotta felt her jaw go slack. “You’re staying here?”

“I told you that I’d have the house under surveillance.”

“I thought that meant you’d be sitting in your car across the street!”

“In this heat? Besides, this is the best place for me to be if your father calls or shows up in person.”

“Day and—” she gulped “—night?”

“That’s right.”

“But there’s no place for you to sleep.” Her voice had risen a couple of octaves.

“You’re not sleeping in our parents’ bedroom,” Wesley said through gritted teeth.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Jack replied evenly. “The couch will be fine. And look on the bright side—if your father shows up today, it won’t be necessary for me to stay the night.”

Carlotta swallowed hard.
The bright side?
Her father could be in custody by nightfall. She and Wesley could start over. Jack Terry would be out of her life. Why didn’t those thoughts cheer her more?

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway broke into her thoughts. Her pulse spiked. Was it possible that her parents had heard the news already? That they’d been within driving distance of the house? Wesley walked into the living room and called, “It’s Coop. I’m outta here.”

“Tell him what’s going on,” Jack said. “Let him know that Kelvin Lucas is going to speak to the coroner to make sure that they’re on board with our—”

“Lie?” Wesley cut in.

“Plan,” Jack finished. “And be alert to anyone who might be following you.”

Wesley looked at Carlotta. “What about Hannah? What am I going to tell her when she calls?”

She glanced at Jack. “We can tell Hannah, can’t we?”

“No. Too many people already know.” He looked at Wesley. “If anyone asks, you have to pretend.

Remember, it won’t be for long.”

“How long?” Wesley asked.

“A few days. We’ll play it by ear, but Lucas said that if they don’t show within a day or two, we should plan a memorial service.” The detective seemed to hesitate, his gaze darting to her, then away. “And if for some reason we haven’t heard from them by the end of the service, then we’ll call off the surveillance.”

For some reason—like they just didn’t give a damn.

Wesley didn’t respond, but his mottled face was proof of what he thought of the entire idea. He left the house with a bang of the door that resonated in the silence.

She and Jack were alone.

He shifted from foot to foot. “Wesley’s question reminded me that you need to call your boyfriend and tell him to keep quiet.”

She pursed her mouth. “Peter isn’t my boyfriend.”

“The sooner, the better—before he tells a neighbor or goes into the office.”

“Okay, okay.” She picked up the handset and used the call history to bring up Peter’s phone number, then hit the dial button. The phone rang four times, plucking on her nerves, then Peter’s sleep-soaked voice came on the line. “Hello.”

“Peter, hi, it’s me, Carlotta.”

“Carlotta, hi. Are you okay?”

She could picture him lying in bed among decadent designer sheets, pushing his blond hair out of his eyes and swinging his long legs to the floor. Her midsection tightened, as well as her grip on the phone. “Yes, everything is fine.”

Jack was walking around making sure the curtains were closed, but she knew he was listening to every word. The awkwardness of standing in her robe talking to Peter while he was in bed and while Jack stood only a few feet away toyed with her concentration. She turned her back to Jack so she could focus on her conversation. “But I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” Peter said.

“For now, we’re not going to correct the news reports that it was, um, me who jumped off the bridge.”

A confused, disbelieving noise sounded over the line. “Are you saying that the police are going to let everyone believe that you’re
dead?
”

“Uh, yes.”

“Why?”

“I believe the prevailing reason is the hope that my parents will reveal themselves.”

“What? That’s sick!” Peter exclaimed, sputtering. “They can’t make you go along with it.”

“I agreed to it, Peter. I have my reasons.”

“Did you tell them—”

“My phone is being tapped,” she cut in before he could mention her father’s phone calls. “And Detective Terry is here conducting surveillance.”

“Surely he’s not staying in the house with you.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Jack smirking at her, as if he could guess the direction of the conversation. “As a matter of fact, he is.”

“Then I’m coming over there too.”

“No,” she said quickly. “That’s not necessary and it might cause problems. I need for you to go along.”

“I’m supposed to
pretend that you’re dead?
”

In the split-second of silence that followed, the ugly thought darted through her head that until only a few weeks ago, she
had
been dead to him. It was a stark reminder that she still harbored resentment for the way their relationship had ended. Carlotta struggled to keep her tone light. “It’s only temporary.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t go along with this.”

“But Peter, you have to—” She was interrupted by Jack relieving her of the phone, his expression sour.

“Ashford, this is Detective Terry. You’ll keep your mouth shut unless you want to take it up with the D.A., got it?” He disconnected the call unceremoniously and set the phone on the table with a bang.

She crossed her arms. “Nice bedside manner you got there.”

Jack raked his gaze over her yellow chenille robe. “It’s true that no one ever accused me of being gentlemanly in bed.”

She angled her head and gave him a flat smile. “How
is
Liz Fischer?”

He pierced her with a defiant, sexy stare. “Fine, last time I looked.”

“Is she under surveillance too?”

“Liz is an officer of the court and your father is a fugitive. If he contacts his former attorney, by law she has to report it.”

“So, you’re expecting her to rat out her former lover to her current lover?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Why don’t you go put some clothes on?”

She gave a dry laugh. “So I can keep you company? I’ve got news for you, Detective—since I’m supposed to be dead, I’m going back to sleep. You can…surveil.”

“Fine. I’m going to put my car in your garage.”

Carlotta frowned, uncomfortable with the implied intimacy—and the sensual image his offhand comment had put into her head. She flounced back to her bedroom and slammed the door, then fell on her bed, knowing she was way too keyed up to go back to sleep. She heard him leave the house, then return. She felt Jack Terry’s presence in the house as if he were some supernatural entity, everywhere at once.

As she lay there, she tried to get her mind around the idea that soon everyone would think she was dead—her coworkers, her friends, her neighbors and her parents. Instantly her stomach balled up in fear.

How would people react to the news? Would anyone really break stride or would they simply shrug and nurse a “sure glad it wasn’t me” sensation while they honked the horn at the too-slow car in front of them.

When her thoughts turned to her parents, Carlotta brought a pillow to her stomach to counter the sudden sharp pain. Deep down, she was terrified her parents wouldn’t show. They had proved their extreme selfishness when they’d abandoned her and Wesley and nothing over the past ten years gave her reason to believe they had changed. They might conclude that Wesley was an adult now—older than she was when they had skipped town—and could take care of himself. They might decide that nothing would be accomplished if they came forward.

Miserable, she dragged herself out of bed and headed to the shower, trying to focus on the positive things that could result from this little charade. If their father did show up and was taken into custody, Lucas would help to wipe Wesley’s record clean. And the reward money would be enough to send Wesley to college and away from Atlanta while the trial played out in the court system and in the media.

When she stepped under the showerhead, however, and allowed the water to cascade over her naked body, her thoughts stubbornly turned to Jack Terry, who had planted himself in her living room—and her life—as if he belonged there. If her life had been allowed to run its natural course, she would have been happily married to Peter Ashford for several years now and her and Jack Terry’s paths never would have crossed.