hadn’t told the brothers about. There was a massive limitation to using the dental records. The radiographs could prove only one thing-the identity of each of the twins.
But there was no way to definitively tie Gavin to the Tennessee murders and Tommaso to the Italian and British murders without a bite-mark match. Neither man had bitten his victims, and as such, it was inside the realm of possibility that the twin they knew as Tommaso had actually been in Tennessee, and the twin they knew as Gavin could have been in Italy. At least enough to force reasonable doubt into the jury’s minds.
Without knowing who was who, they couldn’t charge either brother with the separate murders. They knew Tommaso was responsible for the Italian murders and the murders in London, and Gavin was responsible for all the stateside murders. But knowing and proving in a court of law were two entirely different beasts. A good defense lawyer would blow the case to pieces with this simple fact. It was going to take hours of investigation to link every piece of circumstantial evidence to each individual’s crimes.
Once Taylor wrapped things up with Julia, she chewed on the end of a pencil and thought about the situation. She wondered just how much the twins knew about the various ways their identities could be revealed. The plan to eradicate their fingerprints was simple, but ingenious. Taylor wondered which one had thought it up. Probably Tommaso, he of the more sophisticated and pronounced killing methods.
There was going to be a delay while all the details were sorted out. Which meant they had some time to themselves while the Italians, the U.S. and British Embassies, the Met, the FBI and Metro Nashville sorted through the mess. This situation was above all of their pay grades.
She needed sustenance. She found Baldwin, who was on the phone to Pietra Dunmore, making sure she listed all the forensics they had so the cases could start moving forward. He hung up the phone, ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m whipped. Let’s go grab a drink and head back to the hotel.”
“Sounds good.” He retrieved his jacket from the chair back, shrugged into it. She ran her hand up the smooth linen. Too bad they couldn’t stay here, run away from all their troubles.
The walk back took five minutes-the beauty of Florence was its intimate size, and they quickly passed through the Strozzi Palace courtyard to Colle Berreto.
Memphis sat at a table, an untouched glass of wine to hand.
Taylor had that instance of annoyance coupled with attraction. She tamped it down, looked at Baldwin. “Should we join him?”
“Of course. He must be killing time before he leaves for the airport.”
They crossed the piazza and greeted Memphis.
“Have a seat,” he said.
They did, ordered espressos and tiramisu.
Memphis had been on his very best behavior for the past several hours. Taylor kept waiting for that to end. She knew they had unfinished business, that she needed to talk to him about the kiss. But he was supposed to be going back to London, and she didn’t see that she was going to have the opportunity. The crime scene in the Tuscan hills just hadn’t felt like the right place. Too much obsession already in evidence there.
Baldwin’s phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. He excused himself and answered. “Garrett, hey. How are things back in D.C.?”
Taylor watched him listen for a moment, brows furrowing briefly. He excused himself, and walked across the piazza.
“What’s that about?” Memphis asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh. I bet I know.”
She turned to him. “What?”
“Well, things have changed a bit. I’m not going back to London right away.”
She felt the first edges of skepticism start to build. She should have known it was too good to be true, that she’d been granted a reprieve from Memphis’s searing glances.
“What do you mean?”
“It had been in the works for some time, though I was planning on declining. I’ve been offered a position. At Quantico.”
It took her a moment for that to register. “What?” she asked.
“I’ve been offered a position-”
“I heard you. What position?”
“The BAU terrorism team. Special Liaison to the Metropolitan Police at New Scotland Yard. I’ve taken quite a shine to the place, you see. Thought it might be fun, so I agreed to come on board. That’s probably why your chap is pacing around over there. He doesn’t like me much.”
“Neither do I,” she said.
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Yes, you do. And this will mean I’m that much closer to you.”
“Oh, don’t even think about it. I have been exceptionally clear with you. I. Am. Not. Interested.”
“Then why did you kiss me?”
“I didn’t, you asshole. You kissed me.”
“You kissed me back.” He caught her eye. “And you enjoyed it.”
Jesus, talking to him was like fighting with a five-year-old. I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I? Infinity.
“No, I didn’t. And I would really appreciate you just letting the whole incident go. I’m willing to forget that it ever happened. Okay?”
“Absolutely, darling. For now.” He reached across the table and touched her hand, gently. She jerked it away.
“Get home safe, Memphis. Please, do us both a favor and don’t be in touch.”
She ignored him when he said, “Taylor,” and left him at the table. Let him get the damn bill this time. She didn’t look back as she joined Baldwin, who was turning off his phone.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“The usual. Garrett wanted a lowdown on the case. You’re all flushed, what’s wrong?”
She felt the burn of a blush on her cheeks. “Nothing. It’s…nothing.”
“Is it Memphis?”
“Really, it’s nothing. He just spilled the beans that he’s joining the BAU.”
“Let’s walk,” he said.
As they moved together, her hand naturally found his. The lights of Florence surrounded them; the calls of the homeless beggars, the tourists, the crowds had dissipated. Nighttime in Florence was magical. The warmth of his strong fingers allayed all her fears. This was the one. Baldwin was the one. As they entered the Piazza della Signoria, he stopped and kissed her briefly.
“Hmm,” she said. “Do that again.”
He complied, then they started strolling again.
“Memphis won’t be going to Quantico anytime soon,” he said.
“What?”
“I requested to have him sent back to London.”
She stopped, pulled him to face her. “You didn’t.”
“I most certainly did.”
“That’s not fair, Baldwin. He’s a good cop. He’s helped us break this case.”
Defending Memphis was the wrong tact to take. She saw the fire start to burn in Baldwin’s eyes. His voice grew tight.
“A good cop who was making a play for you. I figured you’d appreciate having him off your back.”
“I can take care of myself, Baldwin.”
“I know that, damn it. That’s what I’m worried about.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, mastering his temper. She rarely saw him lose it, was surprised at the intensity of this particular conversation.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she said.
“I don’t want to fight with you either. We just need to watch our steps. Everything is changing. I can feel it
