2 Bodies for the Price of 1 by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

on how to let go of the past.
    But that would have to wait. For now she needed to decide whether to tell Jack Terry about her father’s phone calls.
    She was hanging her clothes in a locker in the employee break room when a familiar male voice said, “I heard Lindy nailed you yesterday.”
    Carlotta closed her locker door and smirked at Michael Lane, friend, coworker, and self-proclaimed queen of the shoe department. “She confiscated my phone. I have to go to her office and ask for it back like a good girl.”
    “Yikes, good luck with that.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    “I was kidding. You’re one of her top salespersons. Lindy’s not going to fire you.”
    “ Was one of her top salespersons,” Carlotta corrected, feeling dangerously close to tears again. “I’ve been toppled by Buckhead Barbie.”
    “Oh, you’ve met Patricia.”
    “She was following Lindy around yesterday like a shih tzu.”
    “Funny you should say that. You know Patricia’s only doing so well because of the new line of doggie wear in accessories. Those little inflatable bathing suits are flying off the freaking shelves.”
    “No, I could be doing more. I’ve lost my touch.”
    “You’re just in a slump.” Michael gave a dismissive wave and glanced over a memo he was holding.
    “Hey, you’re in luck. Lindy’s off until Wednesday.”
    Carlotta blinked rapidly. She wouldn’t be able to get her phone back, wouldn’t know if her father had called again. There was a way to check messages from another phone, but she had never set up a PIN to access the system remotely. She’d told herself she’d decide whether to tell Jack about the calls after retrieving her phone, but another forty-eight hours of torture loomed before her.
    “There, there, it’s just a phone,” Michael soothed.
    “It’s not just the phone,” she murmured. “It’s…personal.”
    “With all this business of Angela Ashford’s murder behind you, I figured you’d be skipping and singing.”
    “No skipping and—lucky for you—no singing.”
    He angled his head. “Is your brother in trouble again?”
    Poor Wesley. Everyone automatically assumed he was the root of all of her problems, even now when there were so many more potential culprits. “No, it isn’t Wesley.”
    “Having financial problems?”
    She gave him a flat smile. “Yeah, but what else is new?”
    “Good grief, why don’t you file bankruptcy and get it over with?”
    His advice rankled her. She didn’t like people knowing so much about her perpetual indebtedness. “I told you, I’m not that desperate…yet.”
    “So if it’s not Wesley and it’s not money, what is it?”
    “It’s…personal.”
    Michael’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Want to talk about it?”
    Carlotta hesitated. As chief grinder of the store’s gossip mill, Michael was always looking for grist.
    “Actually, I was wondering if you could recommend someone…professional… who I could talk to about…everything.”
    “Oh. My therapist, Dr. Delray, is fabulous and he accepts our company insurance. He’s taking new patients only on referral but I’d be happy to put in a phone call.”
    “That would be super. And if you don’t mind, Michael, I’d like to keep this quiet.”
    He made a zipping motion across his lips and Carlotta hoped that she could trust him.
    On the other hand, anyone who’d been privy to her recent goings-on might be relieved to know that she was seeking help.
    She took her place on the sales floor and tried to push aside thoughts of her father. But as the day unfolded and customers blended together, her imagination began to spin wild scenarios.
    If her father was aware of some of the details of her and Wesley’s lives, was he spying on them? The notion had her distracted, looking around, constantly scanning for someone hiding behind clothes racks.
    Would she even recognize her father? He was bound to have aged in ten years and no doubt had altered his appearance to avoid detection. Same for