Quinn pulled herself together and spoke to her children. “Stand with that lady for a minute. I need to talk to your uncle.” The children obeyed, too terrified to do anything but, and sidled close to Taylor’s legs. Taylor absently patted them on the head, watching Quinn.

Quinn came closer, standing over Reese for a moment, waiting for him to meet her eyes. He finally managed to focus on her. She looked to Taylor and Baldwin for guidance.

“Don’t touch him, Quinn. You hit him in the chest, 404

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his lung’s already collapsed. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

“I just need to talk to him for a moment.” There were tears coursing down her cheeks. She knelt beside Reese, her voice quiet but determined.

“Reese, I am your mother. I am so sorry. You’re right, we should have told you.”

Reese’s voice was wheezy, full of pain. “No, you’re wrong. It was Whitney. Whitney was my mother.” He coughed and a bubble of blood appeared on his lips. He was badly hurt.

Quinn shook her head. “No, that’s not right. It was me. They kept us both in seclusion after the kidnapping, but I was the one who was pregnant.”

Reese tried to speak again, groaning with the effort.

“But…Nathan…told me…told me he raped Whitney…

not…you.”

“Oh, Reese. We were identical twins. He didn’t know who was who. We never told him.”

The faint wail of sirens reached their ears, growing steadily louder. Taylor murmured to the children to stay put and went to Quinn.

“You have to step back now, Quinn. We need to make room for them to work on Reese.” Taylor could see the waxiness of his skin, the light fading from his eyes as he struggled for breath. Funny, neither she nor Baldwin had made an effort to help him. She supposed that was fitting.

Quinn was down on the ground, smoothing Reese’s hair back, murmuring to him. The blood was flowing steady and strong from the wound in his chest, and Taylor could see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He All the Pretty Girls

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was whispering back to Quinn, over and over, repeating the same two words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The sirens cut through the night. The ambulance pulled to the road and the EMTs rushed through the clearing. Taylor pulled Quinn back.

“We need to give them room to work on him, Quinn. Hold it right here for a moment.”

Quinn looked at Taylor. “Will they be able to save him?”

Baldwin stepped into the light, laying a hand on Quinn’s arm. “Let’s let them work, Quinn. You’re going to need to step over here with me.”

Baldwin signaled to the patrol officer that had joined the ambulance. “Please take Mrs. Buckley to your car. She needs to sit down.” The man marched her smartly away.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to have to charge her?”

“She just shot a man. I think there will be enough to claim some kind of self-defense, but we need her clear of the scene.”

Quinn was put into a patrol car, eyes down. Baldwin signaled to another patrol, the children needed to be attended to, as well. Neither was badly hurt, just shaken. Jake Junior had a thin line of blood along his collar. One of the EMTs came to them, looking them over. They were going to be just fine. They were seated in the car with their mother, who gathered them in her arms and buried her face in their shoulders. Baldwin studied them for a moment. They would remember this night forever, he was sure of that. He turned back to the focus of the night.

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The EMTs were lifting Reese onto the stretcher, ready to take him to the hospital. Taylor went to them.

“Is he going to be all right?”

The EMTs’ hands were slick with Reese’s blood.

“Yeah, we should be able to get him to the hospital without too much trouble. Another inch and he wouldn’t make it. Lucky son of a bitch.”

“Then hold on just a moment.” She pulled her cuffs out of her back pocket, reaching for Reese’s arm. He was groaning and cursing, incoherent with pain and weak from blood loss. She snapped the cuff around his wrist, then affixed the other end to the stretcher rail.

“He’s under arrest. Don’t let that cuff off of him, do you understand?”

The EMT started to protest. “But we can’t—”

“Don’t even think about arguing with me. A patrol will ride with you for security. I’ll meet you at the hospital. Now go.”

She walked the few steps back to Baldwin, a smile on her face.

“We got him.”

Fifty-Three

Taylor and Baldwin were seated on the back deck, drinking ice-cold beer from the bottle. Reese Connolly was being arraigned today.

The past week had gone by in a blur. Reese had made it to the hospital, and after several touch-and-go hours, the doctors had repaired the damage and declared that he would live. Taylor felt such immense satisfaction at the declaration. The bastard would pay for his crimes, would be brought to trial and judged. Reese’s instincts had been right, he was a national story, one his aunt would have been desperate to cover. As it was, in death Whitney Connolly had gained the fame and notoriety she’d always craved. Quinn kept insisting Reese was so consumed with hatred and misguided loyalty that he wasn’t in his right mind when he committed the atrocious murders that paralyzed the Southeast for the summer. The D.A. had decided not to seek an indictment against her. She had hired the best criminal attorney in Nashville and was 408

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fervently seeking support for an insanity defense for her eldest son.

Baldwin had spent a long afternoon at Riverbend prison, visiting with Nathan Chase, trying to find if there were any missing pieces to fill in. Nathan happily admitted to his past crimes and showed genuine pride in his son’s accomplishments, as he’d referred to Reese’s murderous spree.

For his part, Reese was seeking sympathy from all quarters, doing his damnedest to make sure all involved knew he wasn’t culpable for his crimes. At the hospital, after his surgery, he had explained in detail what he had done. How he had shadowed Jake Buckley, watched him cuckold Quinn again and again. Had decided that Jake would be the perfect fall guy for the crimes. Reese had admitted that he had started running out of time, had started killing the girls on the road instead of taking the time to get them back to their homes. Blood evidence had been found in a roadside rest stop just forty miles south of Roanoke. The blood matched Marni Fischer. Baldwin had been correct about Noelle Pazia’s asthma attack. She’d died in the trunk of the car, and his fury at finding her dead drove him to new lengths of horror with Ivy Clark.

There is no such thing as killing for the right reason. But in his mind, Reese was doing just that. He was reaching out in the only way he knew how, trying to get the approval and nurturing he thought he’d been denied for so long. Ironically, it was Quinn who met all those needs, something he never recognized.

His lawyer, a shrewd and experienced man, was All the Pretty Girls

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making it quite clear to anyone that would listen that Baldwin had coerced a confession out of his client while the man was still under the influence of narcotic drugs from the surgery. He was making a play to get the whole case dropped on the technicality. It was turning into one of the most impressive three-ring circuses that Nashville had ever seen.

Baldwin was quiet, basking in the late-summer sun. The days were cooling, the evenings bringing a chill to the air. Fall would be here soon.

“Taylor,” he said softly. She looked at him, eyes smiling.

“I talked to Garrett this morning. Told him that I was resigning.”

Taylor turned to him, putting a hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. “Are you kidding me?”