Body Movers Books 1-3. Stephanie Bond
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returned, Tracey snapped her fingers, as if she were talking to a servant. “I’ll be needing a receipt so I can deduct this from my income taxes. I’m a doctor’s wife and in our tax bracket we need all the deductions we can get.”
Hannah coughed, disguised her muttered “bitch” as a wheeze.
“Yes, ma’am,” the salesclerk said, then she smiled at Carlotta. “If you’ll write down your name and phone number, I’ll give you one as well.”
Not that it mattered in her tax bracket, Carlotta thought miserably.
Tracey snatched the receipt from the woman’s hand, then turned to Carlotta. “Now that Angela is gone, I guess I’ll be seeing you at the club.”
Carlotta frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tracey tossed her hair. “I mean, it’s pretty clear that you and Peter Ashford are going to pick up where you left off…if you ever stopped.” She gestured toward the back room where the salesclerk had taken the shopping bags. “You’re probably giving away all your old things because you think that Peter is going to buy you whatever you want now. Poor Angela, not even cold in her grave.”
Anger flared in Carlotta’s chest and she struggled to keep her voice steady. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, it’s not just me talking,” Tracey assured her with a cocked hip. “After you made a spectacle of yourself at the funeral and the way that Peter fawned over you afterward in front of everyone, trust me, everyone is talking.” Then Tracey smiled meanly. “But considering the way you were raised, no one is surprised.”
Carlotta flinched as if she’d been slapped, but Hannah apparently wasn’t nearly so traumatized. “Mrs. Dr., how’d you like my pointy-toed boot up your charitable ass?”
“We’re leaving,” Tracey said, looking them up and down with contempt as she and her friend made their way toward the entrance—but not without a parting shot. “Really, Carlotta, you’ve gone to the dogs.”
Hannah lunged toward them, but Carlotta grabbed her arm. Still, it was enough to send Tracey and her sidekick scrambling out the door.
When Carlotta turned back to the salesclerk, the woman had a faint smile on her face. “Sorry about that,” Carlotta murmured, then bent to write her name and number on the receipt book.
“They have history,” Hannah added unnecessarily.
“So I gathered,” the woman said, her dark eyes shining. She extended the receipt she’d written to Carlotta. “Thank you very much for the donation.”
“You’re welcome,” Carlotta said, feeling guilty as hell as she took the slip of paper.
When their hands brushed, a strange look crossed the woman’s face. She clasped Carlotta’s hand. “Wait.”
From the sharp tone in the woman’s voice, alarm blipped through Carlotta’s chest. “What is it?”
The woman had turned Carlotta’s hand palm up and was studying it, a crease between her perfectly arched brows. Carlotta glanced at Hannah, who only shrugged. After a few awkward seconds had passed, the woman looked up.
“I don’t mean to worry you,” she said quietly, “but you are facing danger.”
Carlotta squirmed. “Why would you say that?”
The woman’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I have a gift…for seeing things. When I touched your hand, I felt danger. Do you have a big, strong man in your life to protect you?”
Hannah snorted. “No.”
Carlotta nervously withdrew her hand. “We’d better be going, Hannah.”
The woman smiled. “My name is Amy, Amy Lin. I didn’t mean to scare you, but please be careful.”
Carlotta studied the woman’s body language for some sign of a con or impending sales pitch. Instead, Amy Lin’s eyes burned with sincerity and…concern.
Without responding, Carlotta backed away and left the store, with Hannah at her heels like an excited puppy. “Oh my God, that was a psychic moment!”
“I don’t believe in psychics,” Carlotta said as she climbed into the van.
Hannah catapulted herself into the seat and slammed her door. “Well, I do, and I’ve always wanted something like that to happen to me.”
“If it makes you feel better, I wish it had happened to you, too. That kind of stuff is wasted on me.”
“I wonder what she meant by you facing danger?” Hannah bounced in the vinyl bench seat. “Ooh, ooh—maybe Peter Ashford is the danger, and you need someone to protect you from him.”
Carlotta sighed, exasperated. “It doesn’t mean anything, Hannah. It’s one of those blanket statements that could apply to anyone, anytime.” She gestured to the cars around them as Hannah wedged the van between two moving cars. “I’m in danger just sitting in traffic in this city.”
“Still,” Hannah said solemnly, “you shouldn’t dismiss something like that.”
Carlotta laid her head back. “Just take me home. This is turning out to be a lousy day.”
“Hey, what’s up with you giving all your loot to charity back there? That was probably hundreds of dollars’ worth of stuff.”
“Thousands,” Carlotta corrected, closing her eyes.
“Jesus God, even worse.”
“I just couldn’t stand the thought of that woman spreading stories to her friends about me selling my clothes. Everyone will think I’m broke.”
“You are broke.”
She expelled a long sigh. “I know.” Her chest and head ached when she thought about the things that Tracey Tully had said. Did everyone assume that she and Peter were having an affair, or perhaps had been all along? If Angela had thought so, it made sense that the woman had confided in her friends. And she hadn’t helped matters by making a spectacle of herself at the funeral.
Good grief, when had life gotten so complicated?
Hannah rattled on about a psychic moment she’d had with a dog, until they arrived at the town house. Cooper’s white van sat in the driveway.
“Wesley must be going on another body run,” Carlotta said as they parked.
“Let’s go with them!”
“Are you nuts? I’m not getting involved this body-moving business.”
“Why not? It’s fascinating.”
Cooper Craft came out of the house dressed in jeans and a dark sport coat, and strode toward his van.
“And so is he,” Hannah murmured.
“Down, girl,” Carlotta said before opening the door and dropping to the ground.
Coop glanced up and smiled as they approached. “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Are you and Wesley going out on a…job?”
“Yeah, he’s changing.”
Carlotta swallowed at the force of his eye contact behind his glasses. When had the man gotten so…appealing? His hair was nicely rumpled, his shirt had French cuffs and his jeans were snug against long, muscular legs.
“Remember me?” Hannah said, stepping up and practically bursting out of her tattooed skin.
“Sure I do, Hannah,” Coop said cheerfully, but his gaze snapped back to Carlotta.
“Right,” Hannah said dryly. “Okay, I’m taking off. Call me later, Nancy Drew.”
Carlotta glared at her friend as she climbed