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The organic milk carton sitting on the counter popped into Taylor’s head. Okay, so that much was consistent, at least.

“Then would it surprise you to learn that she had a large presence of benzodiazepine in her system?”

“A benzo what?”

“A benzodiazepine called lorazepam. It’s a prescription anti-anxiety medication. Ativan is the brand name. We found a therapeutic level in her bloodstream.”

Todd was shaking his head dismissively. “There’s no way.”

“Unfortunately, there is a way. She’d been taking it for several weeks at least, according to the medical examiner’s office. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about it? She never mentioned feeling anxious, calling the doctor, getting the prescription?”

“No. There’s no way she was taking anything like that. Hell, she wouldn’t even drink a cup of coffee since she found out she was pregnant. There’s no way she knowingly took any kind of prescription drug. God, not without telling me first.”

“Who is her obstetrician?”

“Katie Walberg. At Baptist. She’s been going to her for years. They’re big buds. You can ask her, she’ll back me up. No way Corinne would do anything to jeopardize the pregnancy. If she was anxious, she would have told me. Trust me on that.” He crossed his arms again and clenched his teeth. Taylor recognized the signs. He was getting defensive, and that meant he was hiding something.

“We’ll be sure to contact Dr. Walberg this morning as well. It seems, Mr. Wolff, that your wife was doing a few things outside the scope of your knowledge. Is Judas Kiss

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there anything else you’d like to tell us before we tear your life apart? Because trust me, the more you lie, the worse this gets. There’s nothing I can do to help you if you keep lying to me. If you tell me the truth, I’ll be able to fight for you. But if you’re being dishonest with me, I won’t give you a second chance. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Todd looked her in the eye and nodded. “I’m not lying.”

“The hotel you supposedly stayed in doesn’t have any record of you over the weekend.”

Todd looked wild-eyed at his lawyer. Rose put his hand down on the table. “We’re done here, Lieutenant. Charge him, or we’re leaving.”

Taylor let a silence settle on the room before she answered. “All right. You guys sit tight. I’ll have one of our crime scene techs come take the DNA sample, and then I’m going to go talk with Dr. Walberg. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back.”

She and Fitz rose and left the two men behind.

“Wow,” Fitz said. “Nice bombshells.”

“He’s changing his story. Let’s give them some time, see if he changes it again.”

They split in the hallway, Fitz to go handle the DNA collection, Taylor to talk with Corinne’s doctor. Taylor went back to the homicide offices. Marcus was sitting at her desk, the phone to his ear. She dropped in the guest chair opposite him and waited. He was muttering into the phone, writing rapidly on a sheet of paper. After a few moments, he thanked whoever he’d been talking to so intently and hung up. He gazed at Taylor for a brief second, then handed her a sheet of paper.

“We need to arrest Todd Wolff.”

Sixteen

Taylor read the sheet Marcus handed her twice, chewing on her lower lip. Damn. Marcus was right. She needed to arrest Todd Wolff. Suspects lie about the stupidest things, and Wolff had been telling some whoppers. But not enough to push her over the edge into believing without a doubt that he’d actually killed Corinne. But this was evidence that she could use for an arrest warrant.

“Who found this?” Taylor asked.

“Tim Davis. He just faxed the report to us a few minutes ago. I called him to double-check his findings. He’s back at the Wolff residence right now, combing through the house again. He said he’d call immediately if anything else popped up.”

Taylor read through the report a third time, focusing on the line Marcus had highlighted in pink. Blood drops found in two areas of decedent’s husband’s vehicle. The first grouping of .20 centimeter diameter blood drops are collected from Judas Kiss

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the gearshift column of a 2006 Lincoln Navigator, black in color, registered to Theodore Wolff. The second grouping of .5 centimeter blood drops appears on the inside left corner of the silver built-in tool box custom made to fit the rear of the Navigator. Both areas have been collected and submitted for DNA testing, but initial examination show them to be A positive, matching the blood type of the decedent, Corinne Wolff. Well, wasn’t that just the shit. Corinne’s blood in her husband’s truck. They would need to do further testing to prove that it was actually Corinne’s blood, and there was always the chance that the blood was old, unrelated to the murder. But that would be awfully convenient. On its face, this was enough to both secure a warrant, and to convene the grand jury and to seek a true bill indicting Todd. The first step in any solid investigation, physical evidence collection, so often cut through the bullshit the criminals were spewing.

“What do you want to do?” Marcus asked, leaning back in her chair. He looked good behind her desk, she’d give him that.

Taylor drummed her fingers along the edge of frayed wood. She rarely saw this side of her desk anymore, though she’d spent years in this very chair, reporting facts to her superiors. The wood was splitting in two areas, the new damage most likely from a chair being scraped along the edge of the desk. She fingered the gashes. She liked the change; this old perspective made her feel like she was back in the trenches.

“Well, we already have Todd here. Fitz is setting him up for a DNA test. We’ll have to ask the lab to do 180

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a quick blood typing on the sample, make sure Todd isn’t A positive, then we can get the warrant prepared. Julia Page will be able to convene the grand jury session once we’ve got the blood type established. I need to do some follow-up on the drug found in Corinne’s system. You say Tim is still at the house?”

“Yes. He was going to fine-tooth everything again, just to be absolutely sure he hasn’t missed anything before we release the scene.”

The phone on Taylor’s desk rang, and Marcus read off the caller ID to her.

“Well, speak of the devil. This is Tim Davis calling you right now. Here.” He picked up the phone receiver and handed it to Taylor.

“Lieutenant Jackson,” she said into the phone.

“Hi, Lieutenant. This is Tim Davis. I’m at the Wolff crime scene, and I’ve got something I think you need to see.”

“Marcus just gave me your report on the biological evidence you’ve found in the husband’s truck. Is there more of the same in the house that we missed?”

“Oh, no ma’am, I’ve collected every bit of biological evidence that is relevant to this case. I’ve gone through the house several times, on my hands and knees in the appropriate sections. I’ve got all of that. This is something…well, you just need to see it for yourself, ma’am. It’s in the basement, ma’am.”

Tim wasn’t a fly-by-night kind of guy. If he felt that strongly that Taylor needed to attend him at the scene, that’s what she was going to do.

“I’m on my way, Tim. Hang tight.” She hung up, stood and stretched.

“Okay, Marcus, do me a favor. I need you to call Judas Kiss

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this Dr. Katie Walberg while I go out to the Wolff house. See if you can get me in to see her, today. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

Taylor grabbed an unmarked Impala and headed toward West Nashville. She crossed the Woodland Street Bridge and took the highway. It would be faster that way. As she drove, the sun disappeared, roiling black clouds building on the horizon.

Traffic was light, a pre-rush-hour reprieve. Her cell phone rang and she answered. It was Marcus.