“No offense, but it’s just not my problem. I need to focus on the girls who actually need help, not worry about some little brat who’s driving Daddy’s BMW out on Friday night to go blow Todd Wolff so she can get into the club.”
“Jesus.” Taylor felt sick to her stomach. Kids were so fucking stupid sometimes.
“Yeah, well. I don’t think he’s going to be much help with this. Let me get the number of the girl I think will talk to you. She’s been ostracized from the pack, is quite busy turning her life around. She might be willing to tell you some back-story. I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you, Jasmine. I appreciate it more than you know.”
Jasmine left her, and Taylor dressed quickly. As she pulled on her boots, Jasmine came back in and handed her a slip of paper with a phone number and a name. Thalia Abbott.
“Treat this as fruit of the poisonous tree?”
Jasmine laughed. “You can use my name. She’s a good kid. Got back on the right track, is trying to help get other girls out of it.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen.”
“God, I had no idea,” Taylor repeated. It took a lot to shock her. This qualified.
“Well, now you do. I’ve got another client. Will you be okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks again, Jasmine.”
“You’re welcome.”
Taylor hugged her briefly. She dressed, then stepped out into the hallway. She looked at her watch. The day was bleeding away from her. She still needed to get to the cabin, check and see if there were cameras in the vents stealing nudie shots of her renters. She was hungry, the few bites of pizza hadn’t satisfied her. She missed Baldwin. She was covered in slick massage butter, her hair sticking out in all directions. Man, she was a mess.
Out in the parking lot, she got into the truck and stuck the key in the slot. She could slip on a baseball cap and grab a bite at Jonathan’s, call the cabin, see if the girls would mind her coming by. They didn’t have a choice; she was their landlord and had a key, and contractually could go over any time she wished, but she tried to respect some boundaries.
She flipped open her cell phone and caught Sam, who agreed to meet her for a drink and a quick bite. She flipped the ignition and started west, knowing that she was close.
Twenty-Four
Baldwin woke, disoriented. He looked around and remembered where he was. He was on the cot in his office. Anger bubbled in his chest, he jumped to his feet. There was work to be done. The ways of the OA often made no sense as far as logic went, and bristling about their decision-making process would get him nowhere.
He stretched, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then sought out his boss.
Garrett was standing in the middle of his office, a landline glued to his ear. He nodded at Baldwin and gestured to the sofa, uh-huhing into the receiver the whole time. Right after Baldwin sat, he hung up.
“Well, some good news, at least. The rental car from Colorado was dropped off in Missouri. Looks like our boy spent the night in St. Louis. Problem is, we’ve got nothing on him since. None of the names we have on file have shown up within one hundred miles of St. Louis in any direction. Photos have gone out to all the law enforcement folks, but for the time being, we’ve lost him.”
Great. St. Louis was less than a day’s drive to Nashville, an hour by plane. If Baldwin’s gut was right, and it always was, Aiden could be closing in already.
“You said he was in Europe at last count, and the tracker was found dead in Italy. Do we have any proof that he saw me there? That he saw us there? Has he been communicating with anyone?”
“Atlantic hasn’t found anything substantial over there, just the timing. Without the tracker’s information, it’s worthless. It would make sense that he picked up your trail while you and Taylor were there, don’t you think?”
“It does.” He was quiet for a moment. “I need to go back to Nashville, Garrett. I can’t let him get any closer to her. He’s too unpredictable, too dangerous. I don’t know what his agenda is, but if he’s planning some sort of revenge…I refuse to let that happen. I won’t lose her.”
“Just give us some more time, Baldwin. We’re going to track him down. If we don’t have him by tonight, you’re out of here. Fair enough?”
“I don’t know what more I can do for you, Garrett. I don’t know where he is.”
“There are still sources that haven’t checked in. We may be off entirely, he may be on a job. Give us a little more time to see what shakes out. Okay?”
Great. Just great. He was stuck here, looking for a man who might be headed right at his lover. Perfect.
“Fine,” he said, voice tight and controlled. “Let’s go find the bastard.”
Twenty-Five
Taylor sat on her back deck, watching the lightning bugs. This was her perfect time of day, the heartbeat moments between evening and night. She drank beer from the bottle absently.
This had to have been the most fucked-up day she’d had in a very long time.
She and Sam had shared quesadillas and chips, then Sam shot off to pick up the twins and Taylor called the girls renting her cabin. The roommates wouldn’t be home for another two hours and had agreed to meet her at nine. She decided to go home, grab a shower and think.
She needed to talk to Thalia Abbott about this teenage sex club. She needed to ascertain whether Todd Wolff was simply a sex fiend or if he’d gone over the edge and killed his wife and unborn son.
Friday morning she’d meet with Corinne Wolff’s therapist and find out what drove a totally healthy, strong woman into amateur pornography, psychotropic drugs and psychotherapy for panic disorders. She was fascinated by Corinne’s opposing personalities.
She needed to decide what to do about her own videos.
She was exhausted. The massage had been both a blessing and a curse. In the quiet moments between Jasmine’s questions, she’d had time to think about what she’d done with Tony Gorman. Once the adrenaline had faded from the afternoon, Taylor wasn’t exactly proud of herself. Gorman didn’t give her a choice, but she’d never actually threatened a suspect before. Shit, he wasn’t even a suspect, just someone she knew would give her answers. She must have been desperate. What if he came back and accused her of something?
No, he wouldn’t. He was a putz. She was fine on that account. What she didn’t know was how much longer she could hide the information from Price. Or Baldwin.
Lincoln had tracked down the offices in California that were listed on the billing statements for the Selectnet Web site. But the trail had ended there. Despite Lincoln’s raw talent for ferreting information out of the ether, even he was stymied. Notwithstanding Gorman’s information, most of which they already had, he needed bigger resources. Which of course meant escalating the investigation.
She was tempted to let Lincoln simply wipe her videos from the system. More than tempted. That would cover her ass. But how many other women were in those video files unaware? Could she in good conscience walk away from them too?
She knew the answer to that. She didn’t have a choice, not anymore. She took another swig of beer, set the bottle on the deck railing, lining up the bottom of the container with the wet ring its condensation created on the dark redwood. The evening still had some lingering warmth from the afternoon sun, a nice counterpoint to the chilly start to her day. She rubbed the back of her neck, then dialed the phone. Baldwin answered on the first ring.
“Hi, babe. How are you?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve been better. Do you have a minute?”
“Actually, yes. What’s wrong?”
“I need some professional advice.” She laid out the facts in as cool a voice as she could. When she finished, she could hear him breathing in the background.
After a moment, she heard him mutter, “Son of a bitch.”
Yeah, you hit that one on the head.
He continued, his voice strained. “Jesus, Taylor. This isn’t the best timing.�
��
“Trust me, I’m a little perturbed myself. But that’s not the big problem. My embarrassment aside, I don’t know how many more videos are up there of other unsuspecting women. From what we could access through their firewall, the vast majority of the videos are just like the ones of me. Dark, grainy, low quality. Hidden cameras. Lincoln hasn’t busted through to their higher echelons yet, the better stuff might be hidden up there.”
He was silent.
“For God’s sake, say something.”
“What do you want me to say, Taylor? This is a bit overwhelming. Are you sure there aren’t more of you?”
“No, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything. All I know is there was a slew of videos of me fucking some guy I can’t stand. Some guy I fucking killed.” She couldn’t help raising her voice. “What is this, Baldwin? Are you jealous of a fucking ghost?”
“Don’t start attacking me. I’m—”
“You have absolutely no idea how humiliating this is. My team saw the video. Lincoln and Marcus saw me. And God knows how many other people. So yeah, I’m a little upset. And you’re not helping.”
He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a dangerous edge.
“I’m just not exactly thrilled with the idea of my fiancée on the Internet, fucking, as you so crudely put it, another man.”
Taylor caught her breath. “It’s not like I arranged for this, or gave my consent. Come on, Baldwin, what the hell?”
She was just about to hang up on him when he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was cruel of me. Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped. “But I don’t have a choice. I need to figure out what to tell my boss.”
“Don’t do that just yet. God, Taylor. You landed in it this time. Let me look into this. It sounds a lot like a case we had a few years back. We busted an amateur porn ring, a group of motorcycle freaks who were posting videos of unsuspecting women showering in their homes. I’ll make a couple of calls, see what I can find out.”
“What, now you’re sorry about it all and you want to help?” The snide edge to her tone surprised her. That wasn’t fair of her. He sighed deeply then, and she wished she could take it back.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Taylor said. God. She shouldn’t have told him. She knew she shouldn’t have told him.
“Stop, okay? Trust me, I’ve got about fourteen different emotions running through me right now. I’d like to kill David Martin, but that’s not an option. I’d like to kill you, but you’re too far away.” She heard something odd in his voice. Jesus, what was happening? Was her whole life going to collapse because of David damn Martin?
“Yeah, well, then I’m kind of glad you’re there and I’m here. I’d like to go on appreciating my life, at least as long as I can.” She reached for her beer.
“Let me go and start checking this out. I…I’ll talk to you later.”
The abruptness of his desire to stop talking to her hurt her feelings more than his coldness. She said goodbye and hung up, wishing she had an old-fashioned phone so she could slam the receiver down and he could hear that she’d hung up on him. The button to turn the phone off wasn’t nearly as emphatic, or satisfying.
Darkness had descended. Taylor glanced at her watch. Not quite nine yet. She had a few more minutes before she had to head out to the cabin. She went inside, careful to lock the door. The beer was making her sleepy. She sat down on the couch, flipped on the television. He hadn’t said I love you before he hung up. She’d never fought with Baldwin before, not like that. It made her nervous. It made her realize that she loved him. She cared what he thought about her. And that was the scariest part of it all.
An unfamiliar calm settled over her, and she fought the urge to fall asleep. Too much to do.
But the room was warm, and she was comfortable. Though her mind was unwilling, her body, deprived of a decent rest for days, won the battle.
He stood on the back deck, watching her through the blinds. She was deeply asleep, her arm thrown up over her head, a cowboy boot propped on the coffee table. How he longed to enter the house. For now, he was content to watch her sleep. Watch the faint rise and fall of her chest, watch the spot in the hollow of her neck that flashed with each beating of her heart.
She was lovely.
Perfect.
His.
Thursday
Twenty-Six
Taylor was shocked when the sunlight streaming in her southerly facing front windows woke her. She looked at her watch—6:00 a.m. How in the hell? She’d slept for almost ten hours. She was a stranger to deep sleep, much less an entire evening and night’s worth at once. She felt sluggish, but when she sat up, she realized how rested she was. Goodness. If she could do that every night, she’d be in heaven.
She got up, pulled off her boots, and went to the kitchen for a drink of water. Looking out the window, she saw her next-door neighbor striding across her back lawn. Knowing he’d be on his way to the back door, she went to greet him. She realized she hadn’t turned on the alarm the night before.
Don Holmes knocked a moment later, rattling the blinds, a manic grin spread across his features. To say Don was more of a morning person than she was would be an exercise in understatement. She opened the door, prepared herself for the torrent she knew was coming.
“Morning, Don. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Taylor. Beautiful morning, isn’t it? Just wanted to let you know, you had a dead rabbit in the backyard, I took care of it. Someone had killed it, then put a flowerpot over it. Crazy. The dogs were barking at it, so I cleaned everything up, disposed of the carcass. You know it had a wire across its neck? How do you think that happened? Probably some kids playing back in the woods. Anyway, just wanted you to know. I’m in a bit of a rush, need to get to work. Have a good day!”
And he was gone. Her neighbors were very nice, but sometimes a little nutty. Well, that explained that. Getting forensics off a rabbit carcass was a long shot anyway. At least now she knew she hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
She went upstairs to shower. Jeans, cowboy boots and a black T-shirt on, she came back to the kitchen, strapped her weapon to her belt, made a cup of tea. Don should be gone by now. She decided to brave the morning outdoors and drink it on the deck. She took the phone with her. She needed to know what had happened with Baldwin while she slept her life away. She knew they needed to clear the air.
Sitting in her favorite Adirondack chair, she returned Don’s wave—he was pulling out of his garage. She had all the privacy she’d need.
Baldwin answered on the first ring.
“Good morning,” she said, wanting something neutral, not sure how it was going to go.
“Hi.” He was short, and said nothing further.
“You can’t seriously still be mad at me?”
“Who says I’m mad?” he said.
“You sound pretty pissy. It’s not like I asked for this.”
She heard him sigh. “Truce, okay? I reacted badly. I wanted to rush to your aid, and I couldn’t. And I’m not used to hearing your snappy side.”
She thought about that for a moment. He’d wanted to come to her, to help. He was right, she had been snappy. Though she still felt justified in that.
“All right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“What about hanging up on me? Are you sorry for that?”
She squirmed. Being repentant was not in her nature. “Yes. I was being childish. Fair enough?”
He was quiet for a second, and she knew she’d been forgiven. “Fair enough. Why do you sound so chipper, anyway?”
“You’ll never believe this. I just woke up. I completely crashed last night. All this shit aside, I feel great.”
“Maybe we should invest in some sleeping pills, get you rested like this more often.” He was teasing her, and her mood lightened. Everything would be okay.
&nb
sp; “Don the motormouth was over here…” She trailed off. She hadn’t told Baldwin about the rabbit, or the stalking, or the overwhelming creepiness she’d felt for the past few days. Time to change the subject.
She took a sip of tea. “So, any progress on your end?”
“Yes, actually. We—”
She didn’t hear him. Over top of the railing, she saw a man standing in the forest that edged the back of their property. Her heart skipped two beats, then came back with a vengeance, showering her body with adrenaline. Her vision became pinpoint, every detail stood out. She knew immediately, without a doubt. It was him. The man who left the rabbit, who’d been calling, who stalked her dreams. He saw her looking at him and smiled, then turned and disappeared into the woods.
She looked wildly to the east. Don was long gone, disappeared out of his drive into the neighborhood, his garage door just finishing closing behind him. She was alone. And either hallucinating or in danger.
“Baldwin, I…I need to call you back.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Obviously she hadn’t disguised her concern when she spoke—she could hear the alarm in his voice.
“It’s nothing. I’ve got some wacko hanging around, making obscene phone calls, that kind of crap. I’m pretty sure he just came to the edge of the lawn, stared right at me. I’m going to—”
“Are you armed?”
Baldwin sounded distant, a voice she didn’t recognize, and the note of menace sent a chill down her spine. She froze, then slipped her hand to her waist, unlocking the flap to her holster and unsheathing her Glock. She palmed the gun and set her finger along the trigger.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Listen to me very carefully. I want you to go inside the house, hit the alarm, then get on your cell phone and call for backup. Do not hang up the phone, Taylor, do you understand me?”
She didn’t argue. Stepping inside, she locked the door behind her, went to the panel in the kitchen and pressed the button that would send a silent alarm to the security monitoring system. The call would let them know that she was in imminent danger, needed cops rolling her way immediately with lights and sirens off. She’d never had cause to use it before, simply pushing the button made the hair raise on the back of her neck. When she and Baldwin had the system put in, he’d insisted on the feature. She wondered now if this was the reason why. He knew something.
Judas Kiss Page 18
