“Son of a bitch. It’s like a bloody hydra. Get on the horn to Judge Botelli, and call A.D.A. Julia Page. See if there’s anything legal that can be done. And make sure YouTube releases the information about how and where the original upload is from. That’s evidence, and I’ll be damned if I let their free speech issues get in the way of an eventual conviction.”

“Not going to be a problem, they’re working on it. Whoever posted it was pretty sophisticated, was able to reroute through several servers to cover his tracks. They’ll get back to me as soon as they nail it down.”

“Has the news picked it up?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” she said, slamming her palm onto her desk.

Eyes blurred with fatigue, Lincoln managed a grimace. “That’s pretty much my sentiment, too.”

Taylor texted McKenzie as she left the CJC to let him know she could pick him up at the entrance to the library in five minutes. As she exited the building, Sam called.

“We swabbed the wounds of all the victims. I’m certain the cause of death was a drug overdose, so I’m sending the blood work in for more comprehensive toxicology. I talked to Vanderbilt. Brittany Carson’s blood showed high concentrations of methylphenidate, methylmorphine, paramethox y amphetamine, methyletiedi oxymeth amphetamine and diazepam. Lethal levels. I assume that’s what we’re dealing with here, too.”

“English, Sam?”

“Sorry. Just what the early tox screens indicated- Ritalin, codeine, PMA and MDMA, that’s the stuff in Ecstasy and Valium.”

“From the laced Ecstasy? Jesus. Someone took a great deal of time to get the right chemical compound together and disguise it in the tabs of X. When will the posts be done?”

“Not until this afternoon. I just wanted you to know that we’re on the possible DNA. It’s going to take time, though.”

“Reroute everything to Private Match. I’ve already gotten permission for them to run the extra toxicology screens and the DNA. Tell them to put a rush on it, okay?”

“Will do. Everything okay over there? I heard that mere’s a video of the murders floating around,”

Taylor got in the car and snapped on her safety belt. “There is, though the Internet companies are working to get it taken down. It’s gone viral, and it’s everywhere. Thankfully, some people think it’s a horror movie, but the truth will be out soon enough.”

“I’ll keep working on everything. You hang in there.”

There was a note of kindness in Sam’s tone that had been missing for the past few weeks, and Taylor felt tears prick at the edges of her eyes. She missed Sam badly.

“I’ll do my best. Thanks for handling the posts so quickly. Is there anything else I need to know?” she asked.

“No. But if I get something new, I’ll call.”

“Good. Talk to you later.” She slid the phone into her front pocket and picked McKenzie up at the library steps. He got in the car with a wide grin on his face.

“Hey, before I forget, you need to see the shrink today at some point. Huston’s orders.”

“Oh, Victoria? I mean, Dr. Willig.”

“You know her?”

“Sure. She’s great. I’ve talked to her from time to time, about. ..things. You know.”

Taylor did know. McKenzie had lost his fiancée to suicide, and bore the weight of it on his shoulders. He would always feel responsible, because his sexual preference dictated that he had to break their engagement and the girl couldn’t handle the news. He’d come from Orlando to Nashville last year to get away from the trauma of it all. Taylor knew she was one of two people who knew the whole story-the other being McKenzie’s partner, Hugh Bangor. They’d met on a case and were quite close.

Make that three people. Dr. Victoria Willig was on the in with McKenzie too, it seemed. That was good. The more comfortable McKenzie became with his sexuality, the less it would matter at work. She had a tolerant bunch of cops around her-they’d have no problem with him being gay. But the department as a whole was a different matter. Metro Police was like the military and professional sports-don’t ask, don’t tell.

“We’re going to be late,” he said.

“I know that.” She pulled away from the curb, turned left on Sixth and headed across Broadway to Twenty-first. “You obviously found something.”

“I did. The symbols I didn’t recognize, the triangles and the circles with crosses in them? They represent the Watchers. They’re the guardian angels, invoked during circle spells for protection.” He shoved a sketch under her nose. She glanced down to see what looked like stick figures.

She looked back at the road. “The Watchers represent the points on the compass?”

“‘More than that. They correspond to the elements, the seasons, the stars, the planets. North, South, East, West- Earth, Air, Fire, Water. The Watchers are vital to just about every aspect of witchcraft. But most importantly, they’re called upon for protection. The symbols on the letter represent the protective elements. The killer, the letter writer, was looking to keep himself blessed, that’s for sure. Like a talisman. A good luck charm.”

Taylor glanced over at him. “I never knew it was good luck to write in blood.”

“Power comes from blood. That’s what it’s all about.”

“So what’s with the stick figures?”

“Those are the positions the Wiccan holds when calling to the Watchtowers. When you go back over the crime-scene photos, you’ll notice that the bodies of the victims were in these positions as well-either arms to their sides or outstretched, like the North, East and South Watchers.”

“Ah. Of course.”

McKenzie caught the note of sarcasm in her voice. “Some people take this very seriously, LT. They live in this world. They believe. It’s not so different from going to church, you know. Everyone needs something to believe in. Pagans just look to things that are a bit more tangible than what you and I are aware of.”

Taylor yawned widely, her ears cracking with the effort. The sun came out from behind a cloud, glinting off the metal of the cars around her. She slipped on her sunglasses.

“I’ll tell you this. Belief or not, I want to catch whoever did this and punish them. I subscribe to the higher power of handcuffs, you know?”

Eighteen

Quantico

November 1

8:50 a.m.

So you admit that you were having an affair with Dr. Douglas?”

Tucker leered at him, and Baldwin wondered what exactly was going through his mind. Had Tucker been on the receiving end of Charlotte’s favors? He looked the man up and down-the bald pate, the pouchy stomach, the gray skin. Possible. Charlotte never looked at the package, only worried about what was in the box. She had a tendency to find contents that could be shifted to appease her every desire. He’d have to walk even more carefully now.