“Jack, did you take a picture of the note?”
“You didn’t?”
“I was in a hurry,” she improvised.
Jack pulled out his phone, flipped through some images, then turned the screen toward her.
It was a small crumpled sticky note. She squinted at the writing, blurry from—presumably—saliva. Ick. It was the shipping store’s address alright, but no box number.
Her breath rushed out in relief. Only she had it.
“So what did he say?”
She blinked. “Who?”
He gestured to the shipping store. “The guy working inside. I assume you showed him a picture of our dead man and asked if he knew him?”
“Er…actually, no. He had a line of customers, and my coffee was running through me, so I thought I’d come back later.”
“Wow, so you’re actually letting me do the police work?”
“What can I say, Jack? I have a tight…little…bladder.” She batted her eyelashes.
Jack’s eyes inadvertently swept over her, then he shook his finger. “You have to stop that. We’re both…unavailable.”
“The thing is, Jack, you always were.” She gave him a little smile. “I’m going to find a bathroom.”
“You don’t want to go in with me?”
And have the guy ask her if she was back with the key to box 610? “No. But I’ll get you some coffee if you’ll pick me up and give me a ride back to the hotel.”
“Deal. I take mine black.”
“I remember,” she said, then took off walking.
She replayed Jack’s apology and how seamlessly they seemed to transition back to a teasing hands-off relationship. The uncertainty of where she stood with him before had been a constant pull on her heart. Maybe they were better at…this.
Her mind buzzed all the way back to the coffee house. The man at the shipping store had confirmed her mother was in the vicinity—or had been at one time. But who was the man who picked up the mail? Randolph in disguise? If so, the mail had been piling up for a while now while he sat in the Atlanta penitentiary.
At the coffee shop, she visited the bathroom and got a bolstering glimpse of her mother’s signature, mulled the man’s name she’d written on the wall, then ordered two coffees and danishes to go.
She waited only a few minutes before a neutral-colored SUV pulled to the curb and Jack waved.
“Nice rental,” she said, climbing in. “Did the guy at the shipping store recognize Johnson?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m thinking maybe he was supposed to meet someone there.”
“Or pick up a package?” Carlotta offered, trying not to feel guilty for attempting to throw Jack off track. “Maybe he mailed something to himself from Atlanta.”
I asked the guy if there were any unclaimed packages, but he said if packages aren’t picked up within two days, they get returned.”
“Sounds like a dead end, no pun intended.” She passed him a coffee and a danish.
“Thanks.” Then he zeroed in on her arm and frowned. “That bracelet you’re wearing is giving you a bad bruise.”
She glanced at the growing discoloration on her wrist and sighed inwardly. “I’ll be fine.” Disconcerted, she took a sip of coffee, then changed the subject. “Where’s Coop?”
“At the morgue. The M.E. invited him to observe the autopsy. He stuck around to learn the cause of death, or anything that could lead back to the guy’s identity.”
“What do you make of him having no fingerprints?”
“He’s either a criminal, or someone who tracks criminals.”
Either way, he could be connected to Randolph.
Jack took a drink from his coffee cup. “I remembered you said your real estate agent friend thought the ambiguity of the deed to the house where Johnson was staying pointed to a government agency.”
“That’s right. You blew me off.”
“It didn’t seem important at the time. But I left a message for Agent Wick in Atlanta to look into it, and told him we had an unidentified body.”
“You think Johnson might be a GBI agent?”
“Maybe. Or working for the GBI. If so, it’s possible the people he worked with don’t know he’s dead.”
“Makes sense. Why do you think he had the note in his mouth of all places?”
“Maybe he put it between his teeth to free up his hands to try to get out of the safe? Hard to say.”
Jack’s phone rang and Carlotta glanced over to see Liz’s name come up on the screen.
“Sorry, I need to get this,” he said.
She nodded and leaned away from him, squashing the flash of resentment. She forced her mind away from the murmured conversation and back to the matter plucking at her.