Fitz flipped another page. “Doesn’t say. Kid like that, I’d bet some clothing store or waitress job. She’s in Antioch, probably works at Hickory Hollow or some- All the Pretty Girls 33

thing. I’ll chase it down. I’m headed to her place now. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure it out. There are officers on the scene, word over the radio is possible foul play. Could be the lock’s busted on her door, could be more.”

“Well, get out there and see what it looks like. Hopefully, she’s just out of pocket.”

“I’m on it. I’ll call you if we need you.”

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you in the morning unless something happens tonight.”

She hung up the phone. The media would have a field day with this. It was one thing to keep murders and kidnappings from other states out of the news cycle. A murder and kidnapping in their own backyard, however, would be impossible to keep quiet. She checked her watch. Five to ten.

She grabbed a Diet Coke and went to the living room. Baldwin had fallen asleep on the couch, a thick case file clutched in his hands. She recognized the lettering—FBI Eyes Only. She stood looking at him for a moment, not wanting to wake him but knowing she should. He’d want to hear this. She shook his shoulder gently and he started.

“What’s the matter?” He sat up abruptly, the folder falling from his hand. It spilled onto the carpet. Taylor saw crime scene photos, horrific images of death. Helping him gather the photos, she wondered what the hell they were doing. Dealing in death day after day. It was a thought she’d been having more and more often lately.

“Fitz just called, there’s been a missing persons report filed on an eighteen-year-old girl named Shauna Davidson. He’s headed to her place right now, he’ll call if he needs me. I wanted to see if the newsies are carrying it.”

34

J.T. Ellison

The look of dread on Baldwin’s face was enough to confirm her fears. It was likely that Shauna Davidson wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

Taylor turned on the television and curled her legs under her on the couch. The lead story was the body found in Bellevue. They had full-blown coverage of the day’s events in the field where they had discovered Jessica Porter’s body. Nashville did so love its crime. Taylor flipped through the other local channels, all of which were tackling the story.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Baldwin gave her a weak smile. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.”

Taylor flipped back to Channel Five. Whitney Connolly, their lead reporter, was at the scene. It looked like a three-ring circus—what were they hoping to find?

Metro had cleared the scene, there was nothing left for them to see. But the b-roll from earlier was gold. The cameras were angled perfectly to catch the landscape of the field, the highway full of flashing blue lights and metro cruisers. Taylor flinched when she realized Channel Five had captured the crime scene techs losing their grip on the body bag as they placed it on the stretcher, the body being jolted—the photographer had gotten a close-up of the bottlenose flies scattering like a cloud of dust. Lovely.

Taylor’s cell rang again—Fitz was requesting her presence at Shauna Davidson’s apartment. So much for a quiet night. She hung up and pulled on her cowboy boots. Whitney Connolly, who had no more dirt to dish, was asking for anyone who had information regarding the body that had been found in Bellevue to call Metro All the Pretty Girls

35

Police. Her report had been more thorough than the other channels’, her words lingering with delight. Taylor sometimes thought that Connolly enjoyed her job a little too much. Reporting on death and disaster suited her well.

“Whitney Connolly is as tenacious as a pit bull. She’s one of the few reporters that seem to enjoy taking on some of the local crime stories, wants to see them through.” Baldwin spoke absently, giving credence to Taylor’s silent opinion. She glanced at him, he was lost in thought, staring at the television screen.

“I went to school with her.”

That caught his attention, and he turned to her. “A fellow debutante from Father Ryan?” he teased.

“Jesus, Baldwin. Yes, I suppose she must have been, she and her twin sister, Quinn. They were a year behind Sam and me. They would have been freshmen when you were a senior. I know you came into school late your senior year, but don’t you remember them?

That whole story…” She trailed off when Baldwin’s phone rang.

He answered it brusquely. “Yes…? Yes, I’ve heard…

No, I don’t… I will… I agree… Okay… Tomorrow then.” He hung up, then started pacing the living room.

“That was Garrett, making sure I’d heard about the missing girl. I’m officially being tasked full-time on this now, not just as a consultant. Figured that was going to happen.”

Taylor gave him her sweetest smile as her own phone rang. She was already up, gun strapped to her side, ready to go. “Welcome to my nightmare. Let’s go.”

36

J.T. Ellison

* * *

Taylor pulled up to the yellow tape that was strung across the parking lot to the Davidson girl’s apartment building. She smiled as a young officer lifted the tape so she could drive through. Leaning out the window, she pointed to the car behind her.

“Let him through. He’s with me.” The officer nodded, and she watched in her rearview mirror as Baldwin maneuvered his car under the tape. She pulled up to the bevy of vehicles, turned the engine off and stepped into the night. Baldwin followed suit. She waited for him to join her, then they made their way through the maze of blue-and-white vehicles toward the building.

Fitz met them halfway up the stairs. He looked to be on his way down. Instead, he let them pass, then turned and followed them up, divulging information as they climbed.

“First officer on the scene knocked on the door, didn’t hear or see any movement from inside. No signs of forced entry. The landlord gave him a copy of the key, so he proceeded to open the door. It was locked from the inside, but only the push button, not the dead bolt. The officer went in, looked around. Things didn’t look out of place until he hit the bedroom. The bed’s unmade, biologicals all over it. Crime scene kids are about finished with it. We’ve done a canvas, too, no one remembers seeing her last night or today. Doesn’t look too good.”

They’d reached the door to the apartment and ducked under more crime scene tape. There were only a few people left in the room. Taylor nodded to them as she assessed the scene.

All the Pretty Girls

37

Shauna Davidson lived well. The apartment was tastefully decorated with a modern flair. A flat-panel television took up one wall, surrounded by high-end stereo equipment. A tan leather sofa dominated the room, buttery soft fawn suede cushions piled high. A good place to relax. There were adjacent chairs in dark brown suede, and a slate coffee table that drew all the colors together. Not a thing was out of place, as far as Taylor could tell. Magazines were lined up with precision on the corner of the coffee table. There were no errant drinking glasses or cans, no used newspapers. Good taste and a neat freak. Interesting for a young girl. To the right, Taylor could see a small kitchen and a short hallway that led off the living room. She followed the hall, seeing an unused guest room, an office and, finally, the master bedroom. Here, things were not so neat. The bed’s comforter was lying on the floor, the sheets a tangle at the foot of the bed. Blood soaked the mattress. Taylor looked to the crime scene tech standing deferentially to the left side of the bed, waiting for her.

“Do you have any Polaroids that show exactly how you found it?”

“Yes, ma’am. We tried to take the samples without disturbing the scene too much.”