“Okay, give it to me. Marcus and Lincoln, you first.”

Lincoln leaned back in his chair and flipped a file open in his lap. “We talked with the last victim of the Rainman, Lucy Johnson. She was victim number seven, and had told Betsy she thought she recognized the guy, right? Well, after thinking on it for a few days, she wasn’t totally sure she even wanted to point a finger. Marcus charmed her right out of her panties, so to speak, convinced her that it would be the right thing to do. Here’s where the problem is. She thinks it’s a guy that works out at her gym. She also sees him around town a lot, the Mapco when she goes for gas, Publix when she’s shopping. So he’s local to the area. Too local.”

Taylor nodded. “Think she’s legit?”

Lincoln shook his head. “We know he’s been working a specific geographical area. He went pretty far out of it to get to Betsy in East Nashville. All the other rapes occurred out in the west and south parts of town, Bellevue, Forest Hills, Franklin and Brentwood.”

“Where does Lucy Johnson live?” Taylor interrupted.

“That south part of Davidson County off Highway 100 that straddles Williamson County.”

“And what gym does she use?”

“She goes to the YMCA at Maryland Farms.”

Lincoln was pulling more notes from his file. “At least three of the other victims work out at that gym. So that’s a connection between them. I guess I can understand why Betsy got excited when Ms. Johnson told her that she thought it was a guy from her gym.”

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“Well, that’s great, but did she identify him?”

Marcus gave a half smile. “Well, that’s the problem. She’s a treadmill and bike, he’s apparently into the free weights. She didn’t see his face anyway, so there’s no ID to go on. She recognizes his arms.”

Taylor looked at the file, flipping back through the witness statements. “Free weights? I thought he was supposed to have a slight build?” she asked.

“Slight, not tall, but muscular and strong. That’s what Lucy Johnson said.”

Fitz had been quiet throughout the exchange. “Can she pick him out of a lineup?” That was Fitz, taking it down to brass tacks.

“It’s not a face that she remembers. It’s the arms, the body, the way he walks. She also said she hasn’t seen him at the gym in a while. So unless we pull their records and go through all of the ID cards, then get all of their arms in a lineup, there’s no way to go this route.”

Taylor chewed her lip. “I thought you said she recognized him from around town, running errands and the like.”

Marcus glanced at Lincoln and they shared a silent look.

“C’mon, guys, spit it out. There’s something more to her statement. What is it?”

Lincoln gave Marcus the barest of nods. “When she sees him around town it’s not in gym clothes. She thinks he’s driving an undercover. She thinks he’s one of ours.”

Taylor set the file on the desk and raised an eyebrow.

“Undercover, like one of our detectives undercover? Or just plainclothes?”

“She doesn’t know. She doesn’t seem to know a lot 196

J.T. Ellison

of things, but she’s certain she saw him get into one of the white Caprices. She recognized the way a cop in Mapco walked, thinks he works out at her gym and that he showed up at her door and raped her. It’s a little thin.”

“Does she know the cop’s name?”

“No, but she gave a really blasé description of him. Jarhead it sounds like. I don’t know, Taylor, I can’t imagine we could make an arrest based on how someone walked. And this Lucy Johnson didn’t seem screwed in too tight, if you know what I mean. It could be that she’s just seeing phantoms. Rape can be very traumatic.”

“Thank you for the lesson, Marcus.” Taylor gave him a smile. “But I’m not willing to overlook anything right now. Let’s talk to Betsy and find out what she thinks. Could you handle that? I think she’s being released today, you could run over to her house. And boys, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to look over your shoulders. We don’t want the press camped on her doorstep, you know?”

“Sure, LT, no problem.” Marcus sat back in his chair.

“Wonder why he only hits when it rains?”

Taylor waited to see if anyone would answer, then chimed in. “Because the rain washes away his sins. Not to mention the evidence.”

All three men looked at her, nodding slowly. Well, that made sense.

As Marcus and Lincoln left to go speak with Betsy Garrison, Taylor signaled for Fitz to stay behind.

“What’s up?” he asked, twiddling a pencil between his meaty fingers.

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worried about our friend Terrence Norton’s ability to beat each and every rap he’s fallen for.”

“Yeah, I heard about the reluctant witness getting shot by some runner out of Atlanta. Guy had an outstanding warrant, too—he’s cooling his heels here while Atlanta scrambles to get him back. They want him bad, think he’s a bagman for one of their biggest dealers. They want to play let’s make a deal with him, and soon. You know how these guys seem to disappear into the earth as soon as their bosses get threatened.”

“Yeah. Page seems to think it all goes deeper than that. She thinks he was brought in to silence the witness just in case he changed his mind about testifying. Thinks Terrence set it up.”

“Anything’s possible. Little shit like Terrence, he could have it in him. I didn’t think he’d gotten quite to that level, but…”

“Would you be willing to look into it for me? See just how strong Terrence has gotten? Page would love to get him for tampering, intimidation, anything that could take him down.”

Fitz stood and stretched, his ample belly reaching for the sky. “Sure, I’ll get with her, talk to a couple of confidential informants. See what the word on the street is. I gotta tell you, he’s starting to insulate himself pretty well. May be a bigger mess than we expect.”

“Uninsulate him for me. The drug and gang scene is strong enough here, we don’t need another player in the mix. Deal with Vice, whoever you need to talk to. But keep it quiet.” She chewed on her pencil for a moment.

“Page thinks the seeds of corruption may go even deeper. All the way to the bench.”

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Fitz guffawed. “I wouldn’t worry my pretty head about that. Terrence doesn’t have that much pull. Besides, Hamilton was ticked as hell at Page because the jury acquitted Terrence this time. I heard he was really hot for her ass, and not in a good way.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Just pursue the witness/jury angle with Page, see if you can turn anything up. Keep your ear to the ground, work a couple of sources, see what shakes loose.”

“You got it, sugar. Rather be dealing with a criminal I can understand anyway. Drug dealers, pimps, the regular Nashville nasties. I hate this serial killer shit.”

Taylor was gathering up her things, trying to tidy up, when her phone rang.

“Lieutenant Jackson.”

“Taylor, it’s Mitchell. I need you to do me a favor.”

“Since you’re my boss, anything you ask me to do is actually considered a direct order.”

Her smart-ass remarks usually made him laugh, and this was no exception. “While I appreciate that you’re my subordinate, I have a feeling you’re running the whole show regardless. I understand you were at the accident scene this morning where Whitney Connolly lost her life?”

“I was. Sam and I were having coffee around the corner, so I tagged along. Why, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong exactly. But I need you to head over to Quinn Buckley’s home. She’s Whitney Connolly’s sister.”

“I know who she is, boss. I went to school with them All the Pretty Girls

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for a couple of years. They transferred in after their