Charlotte was just as dangerous dead as she had been alive.

“And?”

“It seems she has some files pertaining to you. To a.. .relationship the two of you were having. She was rather graphic. And she’s made some other allegations against you.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yes. Well, we knew parts of this might come back to bite us. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Garrett, you know that Charlotte-“

“Baldwin, I know. Trust me, I know. I’m sorry, but this is out of my hands. I’ve been instructed to recall you to Quantico immediately so you can go before the disciplinary board first thing tomorrow morning for a little chat. I caught a shitload of heat when I told them you were in Nashville. So get yourself back up here, I’ve sent the plane for you. It should be ready to collect you shortly.”

“Is this serious, Garrett?”

His boss was silent for a few moments. “Yes, I think it is. They haven’t disclosed everything to me. I’ve arranged for Reginald Beauchamp to represent your interests at the hearing, just in case.”

“Whoa, I need counsel? I thought you said this was just a chat.”

“Baldwin, I’m not willing to take any chances. I’ve already defended you, told them any charges against you by that woman were ludicrous. But they’re very insistent.”

“Making an example out of me” Baldwin grumbled.

“It’s possible. They have her files now. The focus isn’t on you and Charlotte-it’s gone deeper. They’re especially interested in the Harold Arlen incident. The past is catching up with us.”

This time Baldwin groaned aloud. “Damn it, that case has been closed for years. I was cleared of all wrongdoing. Why are they bringing it up again?”

“You know why.” Baldwin breathed deeply through his nose, surprised that all he could smell was burned leaves tinged with fresh blood. He’d spent years trying to forget, to move on. To erase the dank scent of basement rot, the vision of shattered lives. The self-fulfilling prophecy that was Charlotte Douglas. God, Taylor couldn’t know. He needed to make sure of that.

Garrett was speaking again.

“I need to warn you. Apparently, Charlotte’s files had some extras that weren’t in your original reports. They want. ..clarification.”

“Clarifications that include lawyers and hearings. Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“Yes. Obviously, the phone…”

Baldwin felt himself shutting down, the rigid professionalism that got him through the most heinous of crime scenes filtering into his system. His detachment was his gift, and he readily employed it now. To think, to speculate about what might be waiting for him in Quantico would surely derail him before they asked the first question. He’d need all his powers of stability to face this issue all over again. The last time it had nearly cost him his life. He had much more to lose now.

“I’ll be there. Thanks for trying, Garrett. You’ve been carrying this load for a long time. We’re just going to have to take our chances and see how things shake out.”

Baldwin hung up his cell phone and slumped back against the deck. The woods behind the house were dark and foreboding, alive with crickets and the rustlings of small rodents. He thought he heard thunder roiling in the distance. This was not good news. Two thousand-four had been a horrible year, and reliving it, as he was sure to have to do, wasn’t going to be a good experience. He’d fought hard to clear his name back then, and he’d do it again now. Surely Charlotte’s notes were exaggerations of the truth. That was her forte.

He could only hope that it didn’t go any deeper.

Six

Nashville

8:00 p.m.

Taylor shut the door on the Norwoods and leaned back against the frame. She needed to see the last two crime scenes-the second double especially-but she needed a break. She wondered where Baldwin had gone.

She had j List flipped open her cell phone to call him when he rounded the corner of the house, hands in his hair. The ends were sticking up in the back. She stepped off the porch and met him in the yard. He was white, obviously furious.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He look startled for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve just got to go back up to Quantico. Garrett needs me on a case.”

There was something in his voice, a note of doubt that she immediately seized on. He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. She reached out and touched his chin, turning his face to hers.

“A case?”

He gave her a halfhearted grin. “An old case. They need some testimony about it. I’m so sorry to have to run out on you.”

“We’ll be fine. Are you leaving in the morning?”

“Now, actually. Garrett sent the plane. I’ll have to review my notes and the hearing starts at 7:00.”

She could feel his distraction, decided not to force it. One thing she’d learned about Baldwin, he would eventually tell her what was going on. Pushing him when he was still working things out wouldn’t get her anywhere. And she had enough on her hands here.

“Do you need a ride? I can get a patrol to take you to the airport.”

He nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”

He kissed her, letting his hand linger for a moment around the back of her neck. He felt so.. .sad. It was coming off him in waves. She wished she could help, knew he’d come to her when he was ready for actual consolation.

“Honey, can I help?” she asked softly.

His answering smile was grim. “I wish you could, Taylor. But I have to handle this myself.”

Taylor watched the patrol car drive away, wondering again what in the world could drag Baldwin to Quantico at this hour. She didn’t have time to worry about it; she had too much work to do. The chill was setting in, the air crisp with cold. She shivered, started to go back inside the Vanderwoods’ when her cell rang.

It was Marcus, distraught and short.

“We have another body,” he said. “Female teen, four streets over from Estes, Warfield Lane. Completely off the original path.”

Jesus. She thought they were in the clear. There’d been no new reports for over an hour. The house-to-house canvass had calmed, people were off the streets and barricaded in their homes. The media was frustrated, being kept away from the crime scenes. Too bad. They’d be able to dine out on this news for weeks anyway.

“I’ll be right there,” she said.

Taylor bolted out the front door, ran directly into Sam.

She grabbed Sam’s arm for balance, narrowly avoided falling down the front steps.

“Good grief, cookie, who lit your hair on fire?”

“Sorry about that, Sam. I’ve got another. Want to hit it with me?”

“Another? Good God. That makes, what?”

“Eight. Can we go now? Marcus just called and he’s obviously crushed.”

“Yeah. I’ll come back and declare this one afterward. Where’s Baldwin?”

“He got called back to Quantico, some sort of emergency.”

“Like this isn’t one.”

“No kidding.”

They wound their way under the crime-scene tape strung across the road and drove down a few streets to Warfield Lane. This house wasn’t as fancy as those on Estes-just a single-story cottage, but still spacious with a lovely, well-groomed yard. A pumpkin sat on the steps, not yet carved.

Marcus met them at the door, face pale.

“She’s in the back room. And just so you know, that’s not the only part of the pattern that’s broken. She’s not a Hillsboro student, she goes to St. Cecilia’s.”