Taylor turned the volume up on the tape. She’d seen women like this before. The ones who played men, who acted completely vulnerable just to get the attention. Taylor had watched many a strong man fall all over himself to help a girl like this, a true damsel in distress. A girl who needed.

Taylor wasn’t like that. She’d always been a hoist yourself by your bootstraps, put on your big girl pants and deal with life kind of person. She detested the very idea of a man rushing to her rescue. Hell, that’s what caused half the friction between her and Baldwin in the first place-his desire to protect her and her stubborn refusal to allow it.

But as she watched, she quickly realized that Fane was her complete opposite. Fifteen and already well-versed in the art of fragile seduction. She was peeking out from under her lashes to gauge the effect her crying had on McKenzie. My God, the girl was just like Taylor’s mother, Kitty. She was Kitty, to a T.

McKenzie, bless his soul, wasn’t falling for it for a second, but was using it to his advantage. Fane was being played by a player, and didn’t even know it.

“She’s quite a piece of work.” Taylor turned. Joan Huston stood at her elbow, gazing speculatively into the video monitor.

Taylor gave her a wry nod. “Yes, she is. But at least she’s starting to talk. I was in there for half an hour and she didn’t do anything more than grunt.”

“This is your suspect?” Huston asked.

“One of them. We can’t find her parents, and she’s not cooperating anyway, so we’re going to have to sit on her for a while until we clear it up. We’re missing one more, but I’m pretty sure they are all in league together. Our eyewitness drew a likeness of this girl and Susan Norwood, and they matched exactly.”

“What’s her agenda?”

“That’s a good question. I’m looking for it. She talks a good game, but who knows? We’ve tracked the drugs back to the dealer. I’m waiting to hear if the lab results from this morning’s bust match what we took from the Ho well boy last night. If it does, we have Keith Barent Johnson and Juri Edvin dead to rights for murder one, for Brittany Carson. What I’m trying to figure out is where these girls fit into the picture-Fane Atilio and Susan Norwood-and how the other seven victims are tied in.”

“The Norwood girl’s brother was a victim, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was found with his girlfriend, Amanda Vanderwood. When I spoke to the parents at the crime scene, they said their daughter was at home with her nanny. They didn’t seem to know that she was out of the house. And Xander’s best friend is Theo Howell. He was the last person to talk to Xander. We’ve got a lot of loose ends, I’m afraid.”

“Speaking of the Norwoods, they’re here now, making quite a fuss. I’d suggest you go have a conversation with them, get them calmed down,”

“I’ll go in just a minute. I want McKenzie with me. He’s got insight into these kids. His impressions have been invaluable.”

“He’s a good detective, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

Huston flashed her a horsey grin. “Tell me, Lieutenant. Is it true that you have a soothsayer on board this case?”

Taylor turned away from the video feed. ‘A soothsayer? I don’t know about that. Her name is Ariadne, and she showed up yesterday and fingered these kids for the crime. I’m not sure how much I believe her, but she does claim to be a witch.”

“Hmra” Huston said. “Maybe I should go ask her to read my fortune.”

Taylor realized she was teasing, smiled back. “We’re close, ma’am. Very close.”

“Good. Keep me informed. Good work, Lieutenant.”

She strode off and Taylor looked back into the room. She turned the volume back up. McKenzie’s face was twisted in alarm-she had missed something. Fane was talking again.

Taylor felt her blood chill when she heard the girl’s words.

“You know nothing. He’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them all.”

Forty-Three Quantico

June 17, 2004

Charlotte

Charlotte was fascinated by death. She felt at home, comfortable, at ease when staring into the abyss. Her job gave her the best of all possible worlds, an overwhelming supply of killings to analyze, hypotheses to form, and perpetrators to trace down. She knew empirically that they were monsters, but she was mesmerized by their actions, the sense of purpose that drove them to satiate their desires by exterminating their prey. Predators were her specialty. Knowing inside of them, their dirty little secrets, the twisted, rotted parts that made them tick-that’s what she was good at.

She hadn’t told Baldwin about the basement yet. Aden’s basement. The crime-scene techs had gone over it and found nothing. It was empty, with no real indication of use outside of a lack of spider webs and dust, not surprising considering how organized and clean the rest of the house had been. But she’d felt something down there in the cold, dank dark. Something evil and wrong. Something she hadn’t told Baldwin about, because it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. And she knew bringing her theory to Baldwin, trying to explain her thought process, would lead to an exploration of her own past that she wasn’t ready to divulge, not just yet.

She had the Clockwork Killer file open on her lap, a glass of Scotch with just a splash of water sitting next to her elbow. Baldwin’s couch was extremely comfortable. Heightening this feeling was the fact that Baldwin himself was at the other end, staring into space.

She wondered what he was thinking about. The case, sure, of course, but was there something else in his face? A sense of tenderness, perhaps? Could he possibly be thinking of her?

They’d been distracting each other terribly. Sparrow knew; Charlotte could tell in the way the woman shrank back when Charlotte tried to stroke her arm. She was surprised to learn Sparrow wasn’t inclined to share. That was fine. She had more going on here with Baldwin anyway. A future, A life.

Baldwin took a deep breath and turned to her. “Charlotte, we need to talk,”

“That sounds ominous,” she said lightly. She didn’t want to scare him off, not now. Not when things were going so well. She had everything planned to perfection-she didn’t need him growing a conscience and ruining it all.

“Not ominous. Just…necessary. This affair needs to stop.”

Charlotte closed the file in her lap and sat very still.

“I thought we were having fun,” she said.

“I know. We are. But Charlotte, I’m your boss. I’m responsible for you, for the team. I can’t be sleeping with you. It’s not right.”

“I could transfer.”

She felt him tense. “You’d do that? You worked so hard to get into the BAU, You’d be willing to leave for me?”

“Yes, I would.” She tucked her feet under her and faced him. He was obviously surprised by her statement. She went all in. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I want to be with you more than I want to be in the BAU. I’ll happily transfer out if it means we can continue seeing each other.”

“I’m not sure what to say. I never thought-“

“Would you rather I stay and we stop seeing each other?” There, she’d thrown down the challenge. Now she’d know just how serious he was about her. Baldwin didn’t answer right away. Shit That wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for.

“Forget I said anything,” she said, injecting as much ice into her voice as she could. She stood up, dropped the file on the coffee table. It knocked into her Scotch, splashing some on the edge.