3 Men and a Body Page 12

  “Coop!” she yelled, pointing.

  He looked up to see what was happening. “Stay here.” He sprinted out of the restaurant, but he had a good distance to cover.

  “We need to call the police,” Carlotta said, pulling out her cell phone, but Wesley stopped her.

  “If the police come, word will get out about our cargo.”

  He was right—it was Coop’s call to make. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. She expected to see the van pull away at any second and disappear, but the thief seemed to be having trouble with the wiring. When Coop reached the van, he dragged the guy out. Carlotta watched in dismay while they exchanged punches. Coop had a height advantage, but the guy was bulky.

  Everyone in the restaurant had gathered to look out the window. A dark car pulled up and honked. The would-be thief pushed Coop down, then jumped into the car, and it sped away.

  “I’m calling the police,” a restaurant employee said.

  “Don’t let them,” Carlotta told Wesley, then ran outside.

  Coop was picking himself up when she reached him. “Are you okay? Your eye is bleeding!”

  He winced and touched the torn skin on his brow. “It’s superficial. I’m fine. Let’s get Wesley and get going.”

  “But what if they come back? What if they follow us and try to steal the van again?”

  He put his arm on her elbow to shepherd her inside, scanning the parking lot the whole time. “They can’t steal it. I installed a kill switch.” He fished in his pocket and held up a strange-looking key. “The engine won’t start unless this is in place.”

  She shuddered. “This is just plain creepy. They won’t leave the poor girl alone.”

  The two of them went back into the restaurant, and Coop assured the manager that calling the police was unnecessary. He paid their bill and gestured to Wesley. “Wrap up your burger and let’s go.”

  Wesley didn’t ask any questions—he looked as shaken as Carlotta felt. When they left the restaurant, Coop scanned the area again before they climbed into the van.

  “Did you see the plates of the car the guy got into?” Carlotta asked.

  “There weren’t any plates. Wes, get out the atlas behind my seat.”

  “Why?”

  “Find us an alternate route home, off the interstates as much as possible.”

  “Won’t that take longer?” he asked.

  “Just do it,” Coop said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  Wesley bent over the atlas. “Looks like it’ll be an hour or so before we can leave the interstate.”

  “Okay, you navigate.” Coop looked over at Carlotta. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, then opened the glove compartment to remove a first aid kit she’d seen there. From the supplies, she selected an antiseptic wipe in a foil packet. Twisting in her seat, she cleaned the cut over Coop’s eye. He flinched, but let her remove the blood and apply an adhesive bandage.

  “I should be so lucky to get punched every day,” he said lightly.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t break your glasses…or worse.” She made a rueful noise. “You could’ve been killed back there. What if he’d had a gun?”

  “I’m bulletproof,” he said with a wink.

  “I’m serious, Coop.”

  He sobered. “I’m sorry you’re scared. Believe me, I never would’ve asked you to come along if I thought it would be dangerous.”

  “Do you have a gun, Coop?” Wesley asked, his eyes wide.

  “I’m not allowed to own one,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Another intriguing hint about his background, Carlotta mused. “We’ll be home soon,” she said. “Kiki Deerling is lucky to have you looking out for her.”

  For more than an hour they rode along in relative silence, listening to music and the frequent news updates about Kiki’s death on the radio. The media seemed to be focusing on the fact that she’d been partying with her ex-boyfriend, Matt Pearson, the night she died. Pearson was an alleged heavy drug user, reputed to host heroin parties and to carry drugs on him nearly all the time.

  “Could you tell anything when you looked at the body?” Carlotta asked Coop.

  “I only saw her face,” he answered. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror, his expression taut.

  “Do you see the car?” she asked, turning around.

  Wesley turned around, too.

  “No,” Coop said, but he still seemed uneasy.

  Carlotta saw a sign for a rest area and shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait much longer to go to the bathroom.”

  He smiled. “I wasn’t going to hold you captive. I need to make a phone call, anyway, and I’d rather not do it while I’m driving.”

  He put on his signal and changed lanes, taking the off-ramp for the rest area. After he parked the van, Carlotta climbed down, happy to stretch her legs.

  “I’ll hurry,” she said.

  “We have a few minutes,” Coop told her, pulling out his cell phone. “I hope the vending area has coffee.”

  “I’ll check,” she offered.

  He nodded gratefully, then frowned at his phone. “I’m going to walk around and see if I can get a better signal.”

  “You two do what you need to do,” Wesley said. “I’ll stay with the van.”

  “If anything happens,” Coop said, “don’t be a hero.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said wryly.

  At least her brother’s arm didn’t seem to be hurting anymore, Carlotta mused as she stood in line in the ladies’ room. He was certainly in a better mood. Of course, all of them were in a strange space after the day they’d had.

  When she left the bathroom, she followed a walkway up a slight incline to the detached concrete hut marked Vending.

  Thwarting body snatchers not once, but twice…Could things get any more bizarre today?

  She was relieved to see a coffee machine, looking forward to a shot of caffeine herself. She fed the machine quarters and stood watching the brown liquid dispense into a paper cup. The second cup was filling when a man came up next to her.

  She gestured to the machine. “I’m almost finished.”

  “Take your time,” he said.

  But that voice…that voice…

  Carlotta jerked her head around and stared up at the tall man wearing a battered fishing hat and a full beard with sunglasses.

  “Don’t be so obvious, sweetheart. You’ll blow my cover.”

  Her stomach twisted, her vision tunneled, her heart stopped. Her throat convulsed with the attempt to speak, and finally one word emerged.

  “Dad?”

  18

  C arlotta stared at the scraggly man standing next to her, searching for the debonair, handsome father who’d abandoned her over ten years ago. But if not for the voice, she wouldn’t have recognized him. She took a step backward and the cup of coffee she held slipped out of her hand, bouncing on the ground and splashing her slacks.

  “Easy,” her father said with a smile. “Don’t do anything that will draw attention.”

  “What…what are you doing here?” she managed to ask. “Have you been following us?”

  “Yes. And waiting for an opportunity like this. God, I’ve missed you so.”

  She longed to throw her arms around him, but he also frightened her. She didn’t really know this man anymore. “How did you know where we were? Do you live around here? How’s our mother?”

  He removed the second full cup of coffee from the machine and slowly fed in more coins with those unmistakable large hands. Hands that had tossed her in the air when she’d been little. Hands that held her bike when she learned to ride. Hands that allegedly had stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars from trusting investors.

  “I know you have a lot of questions, sweetheart. Let’s just say that I’ve been keeping tabs on you and Wes. You’ve done well, and you’re a lovely woman. I’m so proud of you.”

  She bit her lip to stem sudden tears as anger flared in her chest. “You
’ve been keeping tabs on us? You broke the heart of a nine-year-old.” She swallowed. “Mine, too. Why? Where have you been all this time?”

  “I’m so sorry that you and Wesley had to suffer. I never meant to be gone this long. I’ve been gathering evidence to prove my innocence.”

  “For ten years?”

  His mouth twitched downward. “Your mother has been sick on and off.”

  Her chin went up. “Sick or drunk?”

  “Her alcoholism is a disease, Carlotta.”

  It was strange how she could feel sympathy for Coop in his struggle with alcohol, but not for her own mother. She looked over her shoulder and down the hill, to where Wesley stood next to the van. “Don’t you want to speak to your son?”

  “Of course I do. But let’s keep this between us for now.” He handed her the cup of coffee he held, and removed the full cup sitting in the machine for a quick drink. “I need to lie low for a while, but I’ll contact you again soon.”

  “How? Will you call?”

  “No. The police still have a tap on the phone at the town house,” he said. “They didn’t remove it after that ridiculous funeral they put you through.”

  “I have a cell phone.”

  “I have the number.”

  “A new one.”

  “I know. Don’t worry, I’ll find you. Just stay close to Peter.”

  “Please…don’t involve Peter.”

  “But he’s in a position at the firm to help me. I need him. He’s the only person there I can trust. When the time comes, I’m going to need your help, too, sweetheart. Then we’ll all be together again.”

  Emotions pelted her. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to laugh. Wanted to call Jack and tell him where he could find his most-wanted man.

  “How about a hug?” she whispered.

  But before her father could move, the sound of screeching brakes tore through the air. She looked down to see a green van lurch to a halt behind Coop’s white one. Two men scrambled out and one of them ran to the back of the van that held Kiki’s body. When the door wouldn’t open, he strode over to Wesley and grabbed him by the shirt. Carlotta’s throat clogged with fear. At this distance she couldn’t be sure, but the thug looked like the tall, bald man who had posed as Dr. Talon at the morgue. Wesley held up his hands and shook his head.

  A shot rang out and the men hunkered down, surprised. Carlotta looked around to see Coop running toward the potential body thieves, holding a pistol straight up in the air.

  The man still standing next to the green van reached inside the door and, to her horror, withdrew a shotgun. “Wesley, get down!” she screamed. Screams rang out all over the rest area.

  The sound of a siren pierced the air. She looked back to see a dark car with a red flashing light on top racing toward them. Both of the unknown men lunged into their vehicle and took off, blowing through the rest area at breathless speeds before screeching onto the interstate. The dark police sedan slid in sideways and stopped, siren still blaring. The driver got out, a radio in his hand, communicating to someone what had just transpired.

  Jack.

  Carlotta had taken two steps forward before she remembered her father. She wheeled around…but he was gone. She pivoted, looking in every direction, but it was as if he’d vanished into thin air.

  Again.

  With her mind and heart both racing, she ran down the incline to Coop’s van. Jack was there, talking to Coop, whose pistol had mysteriously disappeared. Wesley was shaking and had vomit on his T-shirt.

  Jack and Coop both turned toward her. “Are you okay?” they asked in unison.

  “I’m fine.” In truth, she was a jittery mess. “Wesley, are you hurt?”

  He shook his head, but was pacing off the scare.

  “Jack, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I called him to send a police escort to meet us,” Coop said.

  “But since I was only a couple of miles away, I volunteered,” Jack said.

  “We were still on the phone when the green van pulled in.”

  “Seems like you’re always where you need to be,” she murmured for Jack’s ears only.

  “Just doing my job.”

  She glanced over Jack’s shoulder, wondering where her father had gone, if he was watching them. “Coop, one of the men looked like that guy at the morgue. Was it?”

  “Yeah.” He turned to Jack. “White, tall, bald. He was at Boca posing as a physician, trying to view the body.”

  Jack scratched his temple. “Okay, so one of the guys fired a pistol in the air, and the other one had a shotgun.”

  She exchanged a glance with Coop, who put his hands on his hips. “That’s not what I told you, Jack,” he stated.

  “But that’s how it’s going to read in the report,” Jack said pointedly, then gestured to Carlotta and Wesley. “I’m sure the two of you will corroborate that one of the perps fired into the air.”

  “Right,” Carlotta said, looking at Wesley and nodding until he did the same. She was surprised but pleased that Jack was bending the rules to protect Coop, who by his own admission wasn’t supposed to own a handgun.

  “Are these the same yahoos who tried to steal the van at the restaurant?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Coop said. “I didn’t see who picked up the hefty guy when he got away from the restaurant, but I got a look at the driver of this van. It wasn’t the hefty guy.”

  “So we have a hefty guy, and a tall, bald guy, who could be working together, or not.”

  Coop quirked his mouth, then nodded.

  “I put out an APB on the van, but without a plate number, I’m not holding out much hope that it’ll turn up.”

  “Jack, can you omit the Deerling woman’s name in these reports?” Coop asked.

  He nodded. “I’ll handle it.” Then he turned to Wesley. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

  Wesley shook his head. He still looked ill. When Carlotta thought about how close he’d come to getting shot, she was terrified all over again. She wanted to console her brother, but frankly, she was afraid if she looked at him, she’d blurt out that she’d just seen Randolph. She had to turn her back to collect herself, and scanned the area once again to see if their father might still be there.

  He wasn’t.

  “Hey,” Jack said, walking around to face her. “Don’t worry—those guys aren’t coming back.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Is something else bothering you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She willed him to see the truth in her eyes so she wouldn’t have to tell him that this might be the closest he’d ever get to her father. It made her furious that Randolph simply expected her to cover for him. It made her even more furious that she was willing. Her eyes watered.

  “Hey, hey,” Jack said, squeezing her shoulder. “You know I can’t take the waterworks.”

  “Sorry.” She blinked away the moisture. “It’s been a roller coaster of a weekend, that’s all.”

  “You felt as if you were getting close to your father. You must be disappointed.”

  She smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “By the way,” he whispered. “You neglected to mention that your brother accompanied you and Coop on this trip.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, you did.” He grinned. “It certainly puts a different spin on your getaway weekend. At least for me.”

  She frowned up at him, but before she could respond, the passenger door of his sedan opened and Liz Fischer’s blond head emerged. “Jack, is it safe to come out?”

  “Yeah,” he called, but Carlotta felt him tense.

  Liz walked up and gave her the once-over. Carlotta knew she looked a fright in her coffee-stained slacks, sagging ponytail and grubby fiberglass cast. Liz, on the other hand, looked impeccable in a tan linen suit and Gucci loafers.

  “Carlotta, I see you’re still recovering from your infamous tumble at the Fox Theater
.”

  “Yes. Of course, it would’ve been much worse if I hadn’t fallen right into Jack’s arms.”

  Liz pursed her lips. “How is it that you find yourself in the most ridiculous predicaments?”

  “I’m my father’s daughter,” she said sweetly. And wondered if her father was witnessing this little exchange between his daughter and his former mistress.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  “I think I’ll go over and talk to my client,” Liz said, nodding toward Wesley.

  As the bony woman walked away, Carlotta got a whiff of her strong perfume and winced. While she was trying to remember where she’d smelled it before, she watched Liz’s body language with Wesley—wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, leaning into him, looking concerned as he changed T-shirts…looking interested. And suddenly Carlotta realized where Wesley had been all those nights he’d come rolling in, stinking of a woman. He’d been stinking of Liz.

  Carlotta choked on her anger. It wasn’t enough that Liz had been having an affair with Randolph? Did she have to get her claws in Wesley, too?

  She spun toward Jack, who was watching Liz and Wesley under his lashes and looking mighty uncomfortable. He knew, she realized.

  “Can’t keep your cat on a leash, Jack?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Behind her, Coop asked, “Are you ready to go, Carlotta?”

  “Am I ever. Wesley!” she called. “Time to leave.”

  Jack reached for her arm. “Carlotta—”

  She ignored him and strode to the van, climbing into the passenger seat. A migraine threatened to invade her entire head, and her arm was throbbing. Coop slid into the driver’s seat and looked over.

  “You remembered the coffee.”

  Carlotta glanced down to see she was still holding one cup of the vending machine coffee. She exhaled. “Yeah. It’s probably cold.”

  “Okay by me. Want to share?”

  She nodded gratefully, and took a Percocet from the prescription bottle in her bag. “Are you still taking the body directly to your uncle’s funeral home?”

  “Yes, but I called him and asked him to have extra security waiting.”

  “This is unbelievable.” She swallowed the pill and chased it with coffee. “Maybe Kiki’s death wasn’t an accident. Maybe that’s why those guys want to steal her body. Maybe they’re afraid that all the rumors about drugs will trigger an autopsy.”