Body Movers Read Free

initial flood of relief that he was alive was immediately
    overridden with a different kind of anxiety. “What’s
    wrong?”
    “Why do you assume something’s wrong?”
    She glanced up to find Angela listening intently. Carlotta
    turned her back and walked a few steps to be—she
    hoped—out of earshot. “Because, Wesley, the police
    department came up on the caller ID.”
    “Oh.”
    “So…what happened?”
    “Okay, don’t freak out, but I kind of got arrested.”
    Carlotta felt faint. “What? You kind of got arrested, or you
    did get arrested?”
    She could picture him on the other end of the line,
    stabbing at his glasses and weighing his answer. “I did get
    arrested.”
    She closed her eyes and mouthed a curse.
    “I heard that.”
    Okay, minus ten points for swearing at her kid brother. She
    counted to three, then exhaled. “What were you arrested
    for?”
    “Wel , it’s kind of complicated. Maybe you’d better come
    down here.”
    “Where is ‘here’?”
    “The jail at City Hall East.”
    Christ, what did it say for her that she knew exactly where
    the jail was? She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a
    migraine coming on. “What am I supposed to do once I get
    there?”
    “Uh…ask for inmate Wren?”
    She clenched her jaw and disconnected the call, then gave
    Angela a flat smile. “I have to go. Someone else wil be
    happy to ring up your purchases.”
    Angela’s face reddened. “But I don’t want someone else—I
    want you.”
    “Don’t worry, Angela. I’m sure you’ll stil get a gold star for
    your little good deed.” She swept by the woman, and
    when she passed Michael on the escalator, told him that
    she had an emergency and would return later if she could
    and would he take care of you-know-who?
    Breaking into a jog, Carlotta retrieved her purse from her
    locker in the employee break room, fighting tears of
    frustration. What had Wesley gotten himself into now?
    Her feet moved automatically, carrying her to her car,
    which was a good thing because she couldn’t consciously
    remember where she’d parked.
    As she careened out of the mall parking lot, she imagined
    Wesley’s mangled body again—only this time it was by her
    own hands.
    2
    Carlotta took a deep breath and made herself say the
    words. “I’m here to see i-inmate Wren.”
    The uniformed woman behind the Plexiglas rol ed her eyes
    upward to glance over her bifocals. “Spel the name,
    please.”
    Carlotta did, glancing around the crowded waiting room
    nervously, hoping she didn’t run into anyone she knew—
    or anyone who knew her. The place held bad memories;
    she’d been arrested once a couple of years ago for taking a
    tire iron to one of Wesley’s bookies, but the charges had
    been dropped. And just before Christmas last year she’d
    been hauled in for questioning in a murder case. It turned
    out to be a big fat misunderstanding, but the experience
    had scared her straight. No more lying…no more
    pretending.
    She frowned down at her outfit. One thing was certain—
    even in her last-season Diane von Furstenberg sundress
    and midi-jacket, she was a tad overdressed for the
    occasion.
    The woman wrote down Wesley’s name. “And you are?”
    Carlotta lowered her mouth to the little hole in the
    Plexiglas and whispered, “I’m his sister, Carlotta Wren.
    And there must be some mistake. My brother would never
    break the law. At least not a big law.”
    The woman appeared to be unmoved. “Yeah. Have a seat
    and someone wil be with you.”
    Carlotta cut a glance to the waiting room and noted the
    sagging bodies, the yawns, the general restlessness of
    people who had been waiting for hours. She looked back
    and flashed an ingratiating smile at the woman. “Look—”
    She peeked at the woman’s name tag, then frowned.
    “Your parents named you Brooklyn?”
    The woman smirked. “Everyone calls me Brook.”
    “Okay…Brook, I don’t mean to be pushy, but I had to take
    a break from my job at Neiman