macabre motivation, Carlotta was grateful for the commissions she racked up over the next few hours. She was finally getting her groove back, and the rush of adrenaline made her realize she’d been crazy to let herself get distracted with amateur sleuthing. This was her life, and it wasn’t half-bad. Later in her shift she looked up to see fellow associate Patricia Alexander coming her way. Carlotta swallowed a groan. The blonde was a cross between a nemesis and a pesky younger sister. But at the moment she looked worried, so Carlotta tamped down her irritation. Patricia thrust a folded section of newspaper toward Carlotta. “Did you see this in the AJC?” Carlotta took the paper. “What does it say?” “That The Charmed Kil er is targeting women who wear charm bracelets.” Patricia’s hand covered the bracelet that she’d bought for herself, similar to the one Carlotta wore. Surprise bled through Carlotta as she skimmed the article written by Rainie Stephens, a reporter who’d helped her recover Olympian Eva McCoy’s stolen charm bracelet. Rainie cited “sources inside the APD” as indicating that the presence of a charm bracelet might be a trigger for random attacks on women. “That seems inflammatory,” Carlotta murmured. “None of the victims were wearing charm bracelets.” Patricia squinted. “How do you know?” Her coworkers didn’t know she moonlighted as a body mover. “I…must have read it somewhere.” Besides, wouldn’t Jack have told her if there was a connection? “There must have been some reason to print it,” Patricia insisted. Carlotta handed the newspaper back to her. “Not necessarily. But if it makes you feel better, don’t wear your bracelet.” Patricia’s face fell. “But I real y believe these charm bracelets can predict the future.” “I thought the spirit of featuring different charms on each bracelet was to encourage the wearer to try new things, not to predict the future.” She was saying the words aloud to convince herself as much as Patricia. Just because her bracelet had a charm with champagne glasses didn’t necessarily mean that something…celebratory was around the corner. If she believed that, she’d have to believe in the corpse charm, too. So why did she feel so compel ed to wear it? Patricia held up her wrist and pointed to a miniature lion. “Then explain how I met a guy named Leo—” she pointed to a baseball glove “—who is a baseball player.” “How do you explain the broom?” Carlotta asked, pointing to a third charm on the woman’s bracelet. Patricia smiled. “That’s easy. He swept me off my feet.” Carlotta rol ed her eyes and decided not to ask about the dog charm or the horny steer head. She might get more information than she cared to know. “I have a solution.” “What?” “Wear long sleeves,” Carlotta said, tapping Patricia’s bare arm with a wry smile. “I’m taking my lunch break.” “Want some company?” “Er…I’m actually running errands,” Carlotta improvised. “Buying change-of-address cards?” Patricia asked lightly. “Word is that you’ve moved in with Peter Ashford.” Carlotta couldn’t hide her surprise. “Where did you hear that?” Patricia shrugged. “Neighbors talk.” Carlotta set her jaw. The neighbor with the binoculars? “It’s only temporary. There was an issue of safety at my place.” Patricia’s eyes widened. “Does this have something to do with Michael Lane being on the run again?” “Is that in the paper, too?” Carlotta asked. “Yeah, it said he’d broken into someone’s house—wait a minute! It was your house, wasn’t it?” “I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Carlotta said, glad to have an excuse. She didn’t want to explain to yet someone else how it was possible that a psycho could be living in their guest room, undetected. “So that’s why you moved in with Peter?” “I