J.T. Ellison

If Walberg was right, Ricard wouldn’t get back to her until after five or six at the earliest, when her normal day’s schedule ended. It was four o’clock now. Plenty of time to get back to the office, go over her mental notes about Corinne’s background, check in on the Wolff crime scene and secure a warrant for Dr. Ricard’s records. Then she could start combing through the home movies she’d brought from the Wolffs. Joy. The sun was back out, the storm clouds dissipated. It had rained while she was inside, hard, from the looks of it. The air had a bite to it; the temperature must have dropped twenty degrees in the wake of the storm. She shivered as she got into the Impala. Crazy weather. She’d left the radio tuned in to JACK FM and when she turned the ignition, one of her old favorite Duran Duran songs, “Hungry Like The Wolf,” spilled from the speakers. Singing along, she turned right on Charlotte Avenue, crossed under I-40, then exited onto James Robertson Parkway. The roads were still wet and slick. There would be plenty of accidents clogging up the highways tonight.

Five minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the CJC. Streams of workers were exiting the doors, the day shift over. At least it would be quiet in her office, for another hour or so. She might even have a moment to make a call to Baldwin, see how his day was shaping up. She could bet that he hadn’t seen some of the items she had today.

Smiling to herself, she took the back stairs, slid her keycard through the mechanized device and pulled on the door as soon as she heard the lock disengage. She stopped at the soda machine for a Diet Coke, then walked the thirty steps to the homicide office. Judas Kiss

193

Marcus and Lincoln were sitting quietly at her desk, their heads bent together at a conspiratorial angle. They didn’t hear Taylor enter the room, didn’t move. Their eyes were locked on a laptop placed on top of Taylor’s desk.

“Lucee…I’m home.” Both men jumped in surprise. Taylor smiled at them. They didn’t smile back. Taylor felt her heart do a quick shuffle. She’d never seen the two of them look so serious. Or bleak.

“What’s wrong with you two? Lincoln, why are you here? I thought I gave you the rest of the day off.”

Marcus looked at her, face distorted as if he were in pain. “I called him in, LT. I needed his help. It’s…” He trailed off, bit his lip.

Lincoln took a huge, deep breath. “Tell her.”

“Tell me what? Did I get fired while I was out?

C’mon, you guys, you’re freaking me out.”

Marcus turned the laptop around. He whispered,

“I’m sorry,” then left the office.

Lincoln walked around the desk and put his hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “This is my personal laptop from home. Hit play. Don’t turn the sound up. When you’re done, we’ll be here.” He stepped out of the office, pulled the door closed behind him.

Taylor stared after him for a brief moment, then sank into her chair. She pulled the laptop onto her lap. The screen was frozen on a black background. A large white box was centered on the screen with a smaller black arrow indicating “play.” She clicked on the arrow. The video buffered, loading. Fifteen percent, fortyfive percent, seventy percent, one hundred percent. Taylor’s heart was hammering in her chest. What the fuck was this?

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J.T. Ellison

The screen stayed black for a moment, then she saw…people. The video wasn’t clear by any means; it was dark and grainy, in black and white. But she could easily make out two people. A woman and a man. Naked. Obviously having sex. The man was on his back, the woman on top. The shot was from a slightly downward angle, about twenty degrees right of center. A thick fringe of blond hair hid the faces of both participants. They rocked together, fitting well, neither one frantic, a seductive dance as old as mankind itself. There was subtle shifting, the pace quickened. The woman arched, then stopped moving. The man’s arms slid around her body. Taylor saw what looked like a tattoo on the man’s right wrist. Her hand went to her forehead, then to her mouth. She knew that tattoo. The woman moved slightly, shifting to the left. The man’s profile came into view. Taylor realized she was looking at her old partner and lover, David Martin. What in the…

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

The woman who’d climbed off David Martin was Taylor.

Eighteen

Taylor fought back a wave of nausea. Her thoughts collided rapidly, a centrifuge of denial. There was no way the woman on the tape was her. But of course it was. As she looked closer, she recognized her sheets, her lamp and the windowsill. This was her bedroom in the cabin. And David Martin was alive. The video had to be at least two years old.

Oh, Jesus. She forced herself to watch it again, then again. All three times, the video ended with a clear shot of Taylor’s face and naked breasts as she passed the camera. Taylor knew the path she was taking, she was on her way to the bathroom. The first thing she’d done every time she finished having sex with David Martin was take a shower. Something deep inside her was never happy with their encounters, and she always wanted to wash him out of her as quickly as possible after their interludes.

She took a huge, gasping lungful of air, realizing she’d been holding her breath so long she was starting to see spots. Lincoln and Marcus had seen this. Her 196

J.T. Ellison

team had seen this. Dear God. Where had this tape come from? And how in the world did it get posted to the Internet?

She stood abruptly, knocking the laptop off her lap. It clattered onto the floor. She whirled around and went to the door. She opened it and gestured to Lincoln and Marcus, who were sitting, waiting. They came in the room silently, Lincoln shutting the door on them. Taylor was trying to keep her cool.

“Sit down, both of you.” They sat.

“Where did you find this?”

Marcus raised his head. He looked utterly miserable.

“I was looking for the man you had the run-in with last night. I’d been trolling most of the afternoon, plugging in various names, cross-referencing his with Tawny. There was a site that had a match, deep down into the Google file directory. I clicked on the link, tried everything, but I couldn’t get to it. So I called Lincoln. He guided me through. We saw rather quickly that it was a partnership site, one that the members have to join to access the videos.”

“It’s sophisticated as hell, Taylor. I had a bitch of a time hacking it. But I got in. And we pulled up the link that matched.” Lincoln looked at her. “You should sit down.”

“What?” she asked.

Lincoln swallowed and Marcus looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Taylor gritted her teeth. “What, God damn it?”

Lincoln looked her in the eye. “There are eight more videos like this one. All with you and David Martin. People pay to download them, one hundred dollars a pop. The site is called Selectnet.com.”

Judas Kiss

197

Taylor felt the world shift the tiniest bit on its axis. Her chest closed and she couldn’t breathe. She shut her eyes and willed her body back into action. She would be damned if she was going to faint in front of them. It took a moment, but the vertigo stopped, and she opened her eyes. They were both watching her carefully, as if readying themselves for a defense in case she whipped out her weapon and started firing at them. It was a thought. Jesus. She carefully laid both hands on the desk, well within their sight. They both relaxed fractionally.

“Who else knows?” Flat, girl. Stay emotionless. You are in control.

Lincoln looked at Marcus, then back at her. “Just us. We thought about disabling the videos, but then they’d know we were in their system. They might shut the whole thing down and disappear. There are…other items that we may need to look at in addition to yours. We figured it would be better to wait, show you, and create a plan of attack. We assumed that you didn’t know that you were being taped.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that Taylor fought the urge to come around the desk and hug him. No matter what, they’d believed in her.