Six Killer Bodies Read Free

father could’ve parked nearby,
    listening to whatever conversation had been going on in
    the Wren kitchen. If that was the case, then Wesley
    conceded that Randolph would’ve likely overheard many
    arguments. Wes had been a pain in the ass to his older
    sister. Looking back, he was surprised she hadn’t given up
    on him and shipped him off to foster care. Hel , she’d been
    a kid herself when their parents had left town.
    A sudden headache exploded under his scalp. He needed a
    hit of Oxy. He groaned at the blinding pain, then felt
    around the couch until he located his backpack. From a
    pocket, he pul ed out an Oxy tablet and considered
    swal owing it to al ow for a long, slow bleed of sweetness.
    Instead he decided to chew it, breaking the time-release
    coating for a blast of euphoria and instant pain relief.
    He sat on the couch and leaned his head back, yielding to
    the floating sensation. His brain worked more slowly under
    the influence of Oxy, but without the headache, at least he
    could think.
    From Wes’s backpack his cel phone rang, dril ing into his
    buzz. It was the ring of his regular phone, not Mouse
    calling him about a col ections job. He considered letting it
    go, but after several rings, he pul ed out the phone to
    check the cal er ID screen.
    Atlanta Police Department.
    Crap. Suddenly, he thought of the piece of paper he’d
    mailed four days ago to the APD with three possible name
    variations for the identity of the headless body in the
    morgue. He’d sent the note anonymously, not wanting to
    be fingered as the guy who’d pul ed the teeth out of the
    severed head (at Mouse’s direction). Was it possible
    they’d tracked the envelope or its contents back to him?
    Then he forced himself to relax. It was probably just Jack
    Terry calling to hassle him about the undercover work he
    was doing in The Carver’s organization as part of his plea
    agreement with the rat bastard D.A., Kelvin Lucas.
    He connected the call. “Yeah?”
    “Wes?”
    Wes frowned at the familiar voice. “Coop?”
    “Yeah, it’s me. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
    “No.” Other than the fact that he was high as a kite.
    “What’s up, man?”
    “Uh, nothing good, I’m afraid. I need a favor.”
    Wes sat up. He didn’t think he and Coop would ever be
    friends again after Wes had stupidly agreed to aid in the
    theft of a celebutante’s body they’d been transporting.
    “Whatever you need, Coop.”
    “I’m in a bit of a jam. I’ve been arrested.”
    “For drinking?” He’d smel ed alcohol on Coop once
    recently in the morgue lab, and the man’s voice sounded a
    little slurred now.
    “Uh, no. Actually, for murder.”
    Wes’s head went back. “What?”
    “They think I’m The Charmed Kil er.”
    Wes gave a little laugh. “You’re punking me.”
    “Wish I were. They cuffed me in front of your sister a few
    minutes ago and hauled me away.”
    Wes’s breathing became shallow as he realized Coop was
    serious. He swallowed nervously. “So what am I, your one
    phone call?”
    “Something like that.” Coop sighed. “Looks like I’m going
    to need a good lawyer. I thought I might give your
    attorney a call.”
    Wes frowned. “Liz Fischer?”
    “She’s a criminal attorney, isn’t she?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And she knows the D.A.?”
    “Yeah. He digs her, I think.” Liz was a looker with long legs
    and big knockers.
    “Can you give me her office number?”
    Wes grimaced, remembering Liz had left town. “Coop,
    man, she’s out of town for a few days.”
    “On vacation?”
    “I guess.” Actually, when she’d called Wesley, she’d been
    kind of vague, saying she needed to get away to think. And
    she hadn’t sounded well. “Let me give her a cal on her cell
    and see what the deal is.”
    “Okay. If she’s interested in taking me on, have her call the
    jail.”
    Wes wet his lips. “Uh, Coop?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You didn’t…you’re not…I mean…did you…do it?”
    “What do you think?”