Читать книгу Body Movers: 3 Men and a Body - Stephanie Bond, Stephanie Bond - Страница 9

Carlotta stood in her living room and glared up at Jack. “Why are you just standing there? Do something!”

Jack seemed to struggle for patience. “Carlotta, we can’t just send in a SWAT team to storm the place. We need a warrant, and I can’t get one without probable cause. I need some kind of proof that Hollis Carver kidnapped Wesley or—” He broke off. “Or that he’s holding him.”

“You were going to say proof that he’s killed him, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“So that’s the guy’s real name—Hollis Carver?”

Jack nodded.

She threw her hands in the air, and cringed when pain zipped up her left arm. “If you’re on first-name basis with this criminal, why don’t you call him up and ask him if he has Wesley?”

He hesitated. “With Hollis Carver, the communication is one-way.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning,” Hannah interjected, her eyes narrowed at Jack, “The Carver is a narc. And the police leave him alone, right?”

Carlotta looked back to Jack. “Is that true?”

He scratched the back of his neck—she was starting to learn his “tells.” He didn’t want to say.

“Jack?”

“I can’t divulge anything that might impact open and future investigations. But Hollis Carver has been helpful to the APD in cleaning up the city.”

“Cleaning it up?”

He jammed his hands on his hips, feet wide. “Yes. Believe it or not, Carlotta, there are a lot worse criminals in this city than The Carver. People selling poison crack cocaine. Sickos running pedophile rings. Serial killers—as if I have to remind you. Hollis Carver lends money to foolish, desperate people. Unless he starts killing off nonpaying customers, it’s his business, not the police department’s.”

She stepped as close to him as she could get without touching him, and lifted her chin. “So he has to kill Wesley before you’ll get involved, is that what you’re saying?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I sent a couple of uniforms to Carver’s warehouse to take a look around. If we find something that might have belonged to Wesley—his bike, for instance—then we’ll have something to work with. Until then, you need to calm down.” He glanced at Hannah, who was parked on the couch. “Help me out here.”

Hannah scoffed. “You’re on your own, Starsky.” She continued flipping through TV channels.

Carlotta looked up at him, changing tack. “I’m scared, Jack.”

He sighed. “Carlotta, you’re not responsible for the decisions made by the men in your family.”

“Why are you bringing up my father?” Her throat constricted and she self-consciously rubbed her arm over the area where the note was tucked into her bra. Her heart beat faster, then she relaxed a little—Jack couldn’t possibly know about the note.

He glanced away. Another tell. He was keeping something from her.

But then, she was keeping something from him, too.

He looked back, his expression akin to pity. “I just hate to see you keep getting dragged down by other people’s mistakes.”

Carlotta set her jaw. “Wesley isn’t ‘people,’ he’s my brother.”

Jack’s phone rang and he stepped away to take the call. Her chest ached with frustration and a clump of emotions she couldn’t identify. Jack’s attitude was a timely reminder that they were too different, that too many obstacles lay between them. And that he had a very low opinion of her family.

“Hey,” Hannah said from the couch. “You know that Kiki chick we were watching on TV the other day? She’s fucking dead.”

Carlotta turned, grateful for the distraction, even if the news was disturbing. She walked over to glance at the warped picture on the TV screen flashing Breaking News: Kiki Deerling Dead At 21. “Turn it up.”

“As we first reported earlier today, Kiki Deerling was pronounced dead at a Boca Raton, Florida, hospital around three this morning, after being found unconscious by her publicist at a club during a birthday party in honor of Deerling herself. So far, authorities are being very hush-hush as to the circumstances surrounding the starlet’s death. Stay tuned for more details as they are available.”

Carlotta made a mournful noise for the loss of a young, vibrant life. She had never met the woman, but like millions of people, felt as if she knew her just from the hundreds of TV impressions. And maybe Kiki didn’t deserve her celebrity, but neither did she deserve an abbreviated life.

“Probably drugs,” Hannah said matter-of-factly. “Otherwise, why wouldn’t they say?”

“Maybe the truth isn’t titillating enough,” Carlotta said.

Hannah glanced in Jack’s direction, then lowered her voice. “Listen, considering you and the brooding detective have a history, maybe you should request that someone else work Wesley’s case.”

Carlotta surveyed Jack’s broad back and her anger intensified. He obviously believed that whatever happened to Wesley, her brother deserved it. “Jack does seem a little too invested in the other side.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway drew her attention. She walked to the window and her frustration spiked at the sight of the man climbing out of the luxury SUV. Just what she didn’t need right now—a visit from Peter. Although it was strange to see him driving something other than his little two-seater sports car.

Then the passenger side door opened and she shrieked. “Wesley!” She brushed past Jack, who was also staring out the window, and closing his phone.

“Guess I can call off the nationwide search,” he said dryly.

She shot him a hateful look, then bounded out the door as fast as her cast would allow her to move. Jack and Hannah were right behind her.

Wesley was wearing clothes she’d never seen and pulling his bike out of the back of the SUV. He looked drawn, but safe. Beneath his long-sleeved shirt, his arm seemed stiff. “Hey, sis.”

“Is that all you have to say? ‘Hey, sis’? Are you okay? Why haven’t you called? Where have you been? Why are you with Peter?” she demanded in a rush, then gasped, seeing the cuts and bruises on his face. “What happened?”

“Relax,” he said, lifting his arm to deflect her attention. “I’m fine. I had an accident on my bike and got a little scraped up, that’s all. I didn’t call because my phone battery died. I was close to Peter’s neighborhood when it happened, so I went to his place. He let me clean up, and gave me a ride home.” He tugged at the hem of the overlong shirt. “I owe him for the clothes.”

“No, you don’t,” Peter interjected with a flat little smile. With his blond good looks and impeccable wardrobe, he could’ve held his own on the cover of Hamptons magazine. Carlotta gave him a grateful smile, then looked back to her brother. She wanted to believe his explanation but … “What were you doing all the way up in Peter’s neighborhood?”

Wesley looked pained. “I rode up there to get in a card game. Sorry. The good news is that after playing all night, I broke even.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth, even more suspicious now that he so readily admitted to going back on his promise to her not to gamble. She looked at Peter, who seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. She glanced at Jack, whose expression told her he didn’t believe Wesley’s story any more than she did. Then he shrugged, obviously willing to forget the entire incident.

She was irritated with the lot of them. “We’ll talk later,” she muttered to Wesley. “Meanwhile, you need to call Coop, who was out all night hunting for you, and your probation officer.”

“Okay,” he said. Then he went over to shake Peter’s hand. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Okay, now she was really suspicious. Peter and her brother barely knew each other, but Wesley had never bothered to hide his disdain for Peter’s actions when their parents left, dumping her and leaving her in the lurch. On the other hand, she had told him about their father calling Peter, so maybe Wesley had warmed toward her former fiancé. Or maybe he’d ridden to Peter’s house to talk about the phone call….

Wesley disappeared into the house, taking his secrets with him for the time being. Hannah gave them a group wave. “Since the prodigal son has returned, I’m outta here.”

“Thanks, Hannah, for staying with me,” Carlotta said to her friend. “I’ll call you.”

After Hannah pulled away in her van, Carlotta was left standing between Jack and Peter, each of whom seemed to be waiting for the other to leave.

“I need to talk to you,” Jack said to her pointedly. When Peter gave him a hard look, he added, “It’s business.”

“Can’t it wait?” she asked, not in the mood for more sparring.

“No.”

Peter shuffled his feet. “I guess I’ll be going.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Carlotta said, then followed him around to the driver’s side of the SUV, giving them some privacy from Jack.

“Peter,” she said quietly. “What really happened?”

“It happened just the way Wesley explained.” But his blue eyes were evasive, his tone practiced.

Her heart swelled with gratitude. “I have a feeling that I owe you a great debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Peter said, taking her good hand and lifting it to his mouth for a kiss that conjured up images of other things he used to do to her when they were younger. “I’ll always be here for you, Carly, and for Wesley.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. When Wesley had gone missing, it hadn’t even occurred to her to call Peter. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to conceal most of the Wren family doings from him. She didn’t want him to know that the warning his parents had given him ten years ago—that her family would go to the dogs—had pretty much happened.

“Don’t forget that I’m holding something for you.”

The ring. “I won’t forget.” And her heart was so full of good memories and goodwill toward Peter for helping Wesley, she would have agreed to marry him at that moment if he’d asked.

Instead he honored her previous request not to rush her, and climbed in his vehicle. She waved until the car disappeared, then turned back to Jack, whose disposition seemed to have further soured.

“What did you need to talk about?” she asked. “If it’s about Wesley, I don’t believe his story for a minute—”

“It’s about your father,” he interrupted.

Her heart stuttered. “What about him?”

“A Holiday Inn in Daytona Beach, Florida, was robbed at gunpoint a few days ago. When all the fingerprints were run, one set matched up to Randolph Wren.”

Her entire body tingled. She shook her head in confusion. “What are you saying? That my dad robbed this hotel?”

“No. All I’m saying is that sometime recently, your dad was there. He could’ve been a guest, or visiting a guest …”

“Or he could’ve robbed the place,” she finished.

Jack’s face told her that it was a distinct possibility. “I’m driving down to take a look, but I wanted you to know. I’ll let you decide whether you want to tell Wesley.”

“I’ll go with you,” she offered.

“Absolutely not.”

“But I’m off work right now—it’s perfect timing.”

“What part of ‘absolutely not’ don’t you understand? Carlotta, you can’t get involved in your father’s case! I can’t spend all my time saving you from the scrapes you get yourself into.”

“But that’s the beauty of it. I’ll already be with you.”

“No. No. No.”

“Are you taking your girlfriend, Liz?”

He puffed up, meaning she’d hit a nerve. “She’s not my girlfriend. But … I thought I might ask her to ride along in case I bump into her client while I’m there.”

“So they can have a tumble for old times’ sake? That’s nice of you.” She squinted. “Why don’t you have a partner for these kinds of things, Jack?”

“I’m on the waiting list, but the department is short of manpower.”

“So when are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

She shook her head, frustrated with the whole situation. “Don’t mention this to Wesley. And let me know if you bump into dear old Dad.” Carlotta turned and walked stiffly toward the house.

“Carlotta, don’t be like this. I didn’t have to tell you, you know.”

But she didn’t look back because she didn’t want him to see the abject humiliation coursing through her. Her father had left a stink on the family that they couldn’t seem to get away from. It was mortifying to think that of all the policemen who could capture her fugitive father, it would probably be Jack who ultimately brought him down.