LITMIR.BIZ

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I take a look?”

      Coop shrugged and stepped back. “Sure.” Wesley removed his glasses, then leaned over to press his eye against the eyepiece and turn the smaller fine-focus knob.

      “I see you know your way around a microscope,” Coop said.

      “I was pretty good in biology. What kind of DNA sample am I looking at?”

      “Basic blood sample.”

      “What’s it for?”

      “I’m trying to identify a body.”

      “And this is the only way?”

      “It is when there’s no head.”

      Wesley jerked up, his mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. “No head?”

      Coop walked across the room to a slab where a sheet-draped body lay. He pulled back the sheet and Wesley was able to cover his dismay over the sight of the decapitated, decomposing body by recoiling from the stench.

      “Here,” Coop said, handing him an open jar of Vicks VapoRub. “Wipe this under your nose.”

      Wesley did, and while the ointment overpowered the stench of decaying flesh, it also went straight to the sensitized nerve endings in his face. His eyes watered and his nose ran like a faucet.

      “This guy was found in Piedmont Park, no head and a missing finger,” Coop said, pointing to the missing digit. “I’m hoping his DNA will match something in the system. The computer can do that.”

      “What about fingerprints?” Wesley croaked.

      “Burned off, probably with acid. Somebody didn’t want this guy identified.”

      Bile backed up in Wesley’s throat.

      “You okay?” Coop said, then covered the body. “Didn’t mean to shake you up. I thought you were immune to this by now.”

      “I’m okay,” Wesley said. “Just out of practice, I guess.” He wiped at his eyes and nose. “I was wondering if I could come back to work with you.”

      Coop pulled off his gloves. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

      “Come on, Coop. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t screw up again.”

      “I already have another guy working with me. Abrams’s nephew.”

      “Is he as good as I am?”

      Coop frowned. “No.”

      Wes smiled. “There you go. I’m good at this—you said so yourself.”

      Coop shook his head, but Wesley could tell he was wavering.

      “Will you give me another chance? I could really use the cash to pay on my court fee.”

      “Carlotta told me you got a job as a bike courier.”

      His cover for working with Mouse and The Carver. “Uh, yeah. But it’s only part-time. I need something in the evenings, and I know that’s when you’re busiest.”

      Coop pressed his mouth together, then sighed. “Okay, I’ll give you another chance.”

      Wes grinned in relief. “Great. You won’t regret it.”

      “I doubt that,” Coop said, then began to store trays of slides. “Beat it, I gotta get out of here.”

      “Any chance I could get you to drop me at the police station?”

      “You in trouble again?”

      “Nah, I just need to talk to Jack about something. No big deal.”

      “Okay, let me finish up here.”

      “What can I do to help?” Wes hurried to follow Coop’s directions to get the lab back in order. It was the best he’d felt all day. Knowing he was going to work with Coop again gave him something to look forward to.

      Now that he and Meg Vincent were on the outs.

      Not that they’d ever been on the ins…or anything. His coworker just liked messing with his head.

      He used a paper towel to remove the Vicks ointment, then followed Coop to his van, hoping he didn’t look as shaky as he felt. He needed another hit, but he wasn’t going to risk it around Coop.

      The interior of Coop’s van was cluttered, which was unusual. Paper coffee cups and crumpled napkins littered the console, as well as several parking receipts from Piedmont Hospital. That was strange. When Coop made pickups from the hospital morgue, he pulled the van around to the rear loading entrance. There were no parking receipts involved.

      “So how’s the community service going?” Coop asked when they got underway.

      “At ASS?” Atlanta Systems Services. “Fine, I guess. I was off today because they’re doing some construction in the building.” Maybe Meg would miss him, the little tease.

      “And your probation meetings?”

      “Fine.” Except for the fact that, unbeknownst to his probation officer, her boyfriend was a thug who had it in for him.

      Coop shifted in his seat. “How’s Carlotta?”

      Wes grinned. “What took you so long? She’s okay. Did you hear that lunatic Michael Lane, the one who tried to throw her over the balcony at the Fox Theater, has been living in our parents’ room and we didn’t even know it?”

      “What?”

      “Yeah, crazy stuff. They thought he was dead when he jumped off the bridge into the Hooch, but he must’ve survived. Dude sneaked into our place and he’s been living there ever since.”

      Coop inadvertently applied the brake. “Did he hurt Carlotta?”

      “No. That’s the kicker—he just did a few chores around the house, stole some money and took off. She found his clothes this afternoon and figured it all out.”

      “It must’ve been after the memorial service for the A.D.A. I saw her there and she didn’t mention it.”

      “Yeah, it was.”

      “Do they think Lane is The Charmed Killer?”

      “I don’t know—maybe. She said that our entire house is a freaking crime scene.”

      “Where is she?”

      Wesley pressed his lips together. He knew Coop was crazy about his sister. And they might be together now if Wesley hadn’t stowed away on their trip to Florida a few weeks ago and sabotaged their romantic weekend. But prior to that, Peter had gotten Wesley out of a serious jam and he’d promised the man he’d do what he could to keep Coop and Jack away from Carlotta.

      “Wes?”

      He exhaled. “Carlotta is at Peter’s.”

      Coop’s eyes widened. “She moved in with him?”

      “More like staying with him, she said. You remember how big the dude’s place is.”

      “Not big enough,” Coop muttered as they pulled up to the midtown police precinct.

      “I’m staying with my buddy Chance, so call my cell when you need me,” Wes said, opening the van door to swing down. “Thanks for the ride.”

      Coop gave him a little salute, but Wes could tell he was preoccupied, thinking about Carlotta staying at Peter’s house. No doubt about it, Coop had it bad for her.

      Wes watched the van pull away, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong with Coop. Carlotta was afraid that he was drinking again, and maybe she was right. Or maybe it was the pressure of being back inside the morgue that he had once run. Regardless, Coop seemed a little off his game, and it worried Wes to see him that way.

      As Wes turned, he spotted

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