2 Bodies for the Price of 1 (14 page)

Worse, what could drive someone to jump off the Seventeenth Street bridge to certain death on the congested highway below? Last night he hadn’t had room for any emotions other than the rollercoaster of believing it was his sister, then finding out it wasn’t. But now he felt a tug of compassion for the woman who obviously had felt as if she had no choice except to end her life in such a violent way.

After lowering the woman to the bed, he and Coop went to retrieve the gurney. Wesley’s cell phone vibrated and he pulled it out, wincing when he saw the display. “It’s Hannah, I’d better get this over with.”

“Make it quick,” Coop said.

He pushed the connect button, and held his mouth away from the mike so he would sound distant.

“Hello?”

“Wesley,” Hannah wailed. “It’s me. What the fuck happened?”

No one could accuse Hannah of beating around the bush. “I guess you heard.”

“Yes, but I don’t believe it. I have to hear it from you. Is it true, Wesley? Is she really dead?” Her voice broke on a sob, reminding him of his own grief when he had thought his sister was dead.

“Hannah, I can’t—”

“Wesley, just
tell
me. Is Carlotta dead?”

He wanted to tell her the truth, but Coop was watching him out of the corner of his eye and he knew his boss’s sense of integrity would drive him to tell Jack Terry or the D.A. if Wesley reneged on Carlotta’s promise. Plus telling Hannah would be like shouting the truth from the top of the Bank of America building with a megaphone.

“She’s…gone,” was all he could manage to say.

“Omigod, omigod, omigod!” Hannah screamed, then burst into new tears.

Wesley held the phone away from his ear and winced.

“I knew she was depressed but I didn’t think she’d kill herself! Oh, fuck! Wesley, you must be out of your mind.”

For going along with this ruse. “Yeah,” he murmured. “But I really don’t want to talk right now.”

“I understand,” she said through her sobs. “But call if you need help with the…arrangements. God, I can’t believe we’re talking about Carlotta’s funeral.”

“I know—it’s surreal.”

She heaved a long, shuddering sigh. “I guess this means you’ll be taking some time off work. Tell Coop that I’ll be glad to fill in.”

Wesley bit back a smile. “I will.”

“And Wesley, there’s one thing you should know…your father called Carlotta Sunday.”

He nearly dropped the phone.
“What?”

“At least she thought it was him. She wasn’t sure. Before she could say anything, she dropped her cell phone and broke it. Do you think that had something to do with her suicide?”

Wesley’s mind reeled. How could Carlotta keep something like that from him? “I can say for a certainty, Hannah, that it didn’t. I have to go. Bye.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket, feeling as if he might explode. Was that why Carlotta had gone along with this scam, because she thought their father was nearby?

“I’m sure Hannah’s all broken up,” Coop said.

“Yeah,” he managed, trying to act as if nothing were wrong, when everything was. “And she said she’d be glad to fill in for me if you need help.”

Coop grimaced. “Christ, I’m going to have to call her, aren’t I?”

“Sooner or later.” His lips moved, but his mind raced with the thought that his father had called Carlotta and he immediately wondered why
he
hadn’t heard from him. After a couple of minutes of near-panic, he realized he had to get a grip. He tried to calm himself with Hannah’s words that Carlotta hadn’t been sure it
was
their father.

His thoughts moved to how quickly Hannah had been willing to believe that Carlotta had killed herself simply because she’d been moping around lately. Indeed, the number of suicides he’d attended since starting this job only a few weeks ago was shocking—and here they were handling another one.

“Why do you think people kill themselves?” he asked Coop.

Coop shrugged. “It’s easier than facing their demons. Death can be very…
alluring
to someone who’s disenchanted with life.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” Wesley asked, then held his breath.

“No,” Coop said earnestly. “I’ve indulged in self-destructive behavior, but being surrounded by death has given me an appreciation for life. It’s taken me a while to realize it, but dammit, I want to be happy.” He gave Wesley a little smile. “After this run, what do you say we stop in and check on your sister?”

Wesley wondered briefly if Coop would make Carlotta happy. “I say that’s a good idea.”

After all, he had a bone to pick with his dear, departed sister.

18

C
arlotta peeked out the slit in the curtain and exhaled. “It’s just our neighbor, Mrs. Winningham, the nosiest woman on the face of the earth.”

“Are you two close?” Jack asked.

“Hardly. She thinks that Wesley and I are dragging down the neighborhood.”

“What’s she holding?”

“Looks like a casserole. She probably came to get the scoop on my demise in exchange for potato salad.”

“Did your parents know her?”

“She was here when we moved here, yeah.”

“I guess I’m asking if there’s a chance that they know her well enough to approach her about delivering a message to you.”

Like her father had with Peter. “I don’t think so,” she said dryly. “My mother refused to talk to the neighbors because she was convinced that moving here was an illusion and we’d be back in our big house soon.”

Jack backed away from the window, apparently willing to let Mrs. Winningham believe that no one was home. “Tell me about your parents.”

She shrugged as she made her way back to the kitchen. Her appetite had vanished, but she was craving a cigarette and hoped a cup of coffee would quiet the urge. “You have the files on them.”

He settled back into his place at the table and resumed eating. “Tell me something that isn’t in the files.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

As she poured them each a cup, she mentally sifted through all the stored memories about her parents, conceding that the more recent bad memories had written over some previous good ones like a computer hard drive. She set his mug down next to his plate, then leaned against the counter. Her hands suddenly seemed very cold and cradling the hot coffee felt good. “They were a beautiful couple,” she said finally.

“I’ve seen pictures. You look like your mother.”

“She was much prettier.”

“That’s debatable.”

She let the compliment pass, uncomfortable with this sense of intimacy that had settled around them.

“And Wesley looks like my father.”

“Were they good parents?”

She scoffed. “You mean before they abandoned us? I guess so. They weren’t mean to us and we were well provided for.”

“But?” he probed, his dark eyes searching.

“But my father worked all the time and my mother drank all the time.”

“Oh.”

Carlotta sipped from her cup. “I’ll bet your parents were the salt of the earth, weren’t they?”

He nodded. “Still are.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m lucky.”

It was her turn to nod. “But I have Wesley, so that makes me lucky.”

“Despite the trouble he’s been in?”

“Yeah.”

“You love him like a mother.”

“I don’t know. I suppose. All I know is that he’s the only person in this world I truly care about.”

His mouth lifted in a smile. “Then he’s the lucky one.”

She smiled back. “He’s good to me too. He cooks for me. And he bought me that monstrosity of a television in there.”

“That must have set him back a pretty penny.”

“He sold his motorcycle.”

“Is he still making payments to his loan sharks?”

She frowned and gave him a pointed look. “I’m going to stop talking. You know way too much about my family.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said, picking up their plates and setting them in the sink. “I need to get to work anyway.”

“Doing what?”

“Surveilling,” he said, mimicking her. “I’m going to set up some cameras so I can keep an eye on things outside. Mind if I look around?”

“As if I could stop you.” She pushed away from the counter to follow him.

He walked into the living room and checked the view from both windows without moving the curtains.

To her consternation Carlotta found herself checking out the view of him from behind, how the expanse of his shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so physically aware of a man…but then again, when had she been in such close quarters with a man other than Wesley?

“What’s the story behind the Christmas tree?” he asked mildly.

She glanced over to the corner at the small aluminum tree that had lost much of its luster over the past ten years and had suffered much abuse. “My mother put it up before she…left.”

“And you didn’t want to take it down?”

“Wesley wouldn’t let me.”

“And the gifts underneath?”

“We never opened them.”

His eyes widened. “Never? Didn’t it cross your mind that they might have left a clue inside as to where they’d gone?”

“Yes, but I promised Wesley I wouldn’t open them. It meant a lot to him that we wait until our parents came home.”

“I’m surprised the police didn’t go through them when your parents first disappeared.”

“We hid them.”

Jack went over and picked up the small gifts, shaking them. “You could open them now, Carlotta, and this might all be over. Wesley wouldn’t have to know.”

She walked over and took a gift from him, this one wrapped in “Ho, Ho, Ho” red and green paper, the cellophane tape now yellowed and brittle. “Yes, he would. I’m not going back on my word to him.”

He circled his hand around her wrist and suddenly the air was sexually charged. “Carlotta Wren,” he murmured. “I can’t figure you out. You keep throwing me curve balls.”

Her throat closed as his gold-colored eyes locked with her gaze and his touch seemed to seep into her skin. “Jack, I don’t understand sports analogies. And I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“That’s wise of you,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to within an inch of hers. “Around you, I don’t trust me either.”

His breath brushed her lips and she felt herself sinking into him. He was giving her the chance to pull away, to run, to slap him. Instead she flicked out her tongue and coaxed his mouth to hers. He descended with a groan, searing his lips against hers in a scorching kiss that sent desire coursing through her body.

His tongue delved deeper into her mouth as the kiss grew in intensity, both of them fighting for breath. At the sound of something hitting the floor, she realized distantly that she’d dropped the wrapped gift, but the thought was quickly overridden with wonder that her body was alive—and on fire.

She fisted her hands in his shirt as he slid his hands down her back and over her rear, molding her body to his. Shock waves vibrated through her breasts and thighs, and longing erupted in her midsection.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said against her lips, “since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

She sighed into his mouth, reveling in the wall of warm, muscled body all but enveloping her. The scent of strong soap and minty aftershave filled her lungs, strumming her senses higher. Through their clothing, she could feel the ridge of his erection pressing into her stomach. She rocked her hips against his—closer, tighter, harder—

“What the hell’s going on here?”

Jack released her and she jerked toward the noise and the breeze. Wesley and Coop stood at the front door staring at them. Wesley looked appalled and Coop looked—disappointed?

19

C
arlotta’s stomach bottomed out as Wesley turned his fury upon Jack. He strode forward and shouted, “Is this why you concocted this whole charade,
Detective?
So you could get into this house and into my sister’s pants?”

“No,” Jack bit out, hands jammed on hips. A muscle worked in his jaw.

Her full-body flush of desire morphed into mortification. “Wesley—”

“How could you?” he said to her, his face twisted in disgust. “This guy arrested me and is trying to trap Dad, and you’re….
fooling
around with him? Whose side are you on?”

Her heart squeezed. “Wesley—”

“This is none of your business, son,” Jack said, stepping forward. “This is between your sister and me.”

Wesley’s mouth tightened and his face turned scarlet. “I’m not your son. And the deal’s off. I’m not pretending anymore.”

“Nothing has changed,” Jack said quietly, “including the deal.” He looked at Coop, who had averted his gaze. “Close the door, Coop.”

Coop looked at her, then Jack, his expression unreadable. “I think I’d better go.”

“Take Wesley with you,” Jack said.

“Yeah, we were just…checking in. Come on, Wes. We need to get back to work.”

Wesley set his jaw, beseeching her with his eyes to fix things—to call off the deal with the D.A. and send Jack Terry on his way.

“Go, Wesley,” she said evenly. “You don’t have to worry about anything here.”

His shoulders fell and he fairly shook with anger, but with a parting glare at Jack, he shoved past Coop and disappeared through the door.

Coop exchanged a wordless glance with Jack that excluded her completely, then he turned and walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.

For several long seconds she and Jack stood in the silence that sucked at the room. Carlotta closed her eyes and berated herself for her lapse. If she could’ve done only one thing to complicate the already messy situation, it would be to body-kiss Jack Terry.

Minus ten points.

As proof, her body was still tingling in the aftermath. A reminder of how long it had been since she’d had sex—so long that a man she
disliked
could get her engine revving. As of now, she officially had no pride.

Not sure what to expect, she turned toward him.

“Jack—”

“Carlotta—”

They stopped and looked at each other. Regret and remorse filled every line on his rugged face and she was certain hers was equally telltale.

“Me first,” he said, pulling a hand down his face. “I like you—more than I should. But—”