“…So I told the doctor that it serves me right, using Depo-Provera all those years. When the eggs realized they could finally get out, they all crowded to the door. It’s weird, I can just feel that they are brother and sister.”
Taylor leaned into Sam, giving her a soft hug. “It’s going to be wonderful, honey. We’re going to have a ball!”
Sam looked at her, eyes searching for some confirmation that Taylor had laid the devils to rest about her own situation. With perfect timing, Taylor’s cell rang, giving her an excuse to look away. She flipped the phone open and chose a point well over Sam’s left shoulder to look at.
“Taylor Jackson.” She immediately started shifting in her chair. “Hello, Dr. Gregory. No, I’m fine.” She was silent for a moment. Then a moment more. “Are you sure?” The lightness that infused her voice made Sam look at her sharply. Taylor’s grin reached from one side of the room to the other. “Thank you. No, really. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone, biting her lip.
“Good news?” Sam asked.
Taylor settled back in her chair. “Apparently his nurse Shelby mixed up some of the test results. A woman with the last name Taylor is pregnant. I’m not.”
“I thought that might be the case. You didn’t have the look.”
“And you didn’t tell me that? I could have used a little doubt last night.” Taylor didn’t quite know whether to laugh or cry. But the relief she felt was overwhelming. The time just wasn’t right for her and Baldwin. Maybe, well, who knew?
Sam, in her ever-placating way, reached out a hand and patted Taylor’s arm. She didn’t need to say a word.
After a long moment, Taylor started to speak, but just as she opened her mouth, Sam’s pager went off. She unhooked it from her purse strap, looked at the readout and grabbed her cell phone. Punching in a few numbers, she quickly became the medical examiner instead of an excited expectant mom. She hung up, shaking her head. “Damn, I’ve got to go. Fatal car wreck at the entrance to Belle Meade Boulevard. That’s what all the sirens were about. Wanna come along?”
“Sure, why not. I’m waiting for Lincoln and Marcus to call me anyway.”
The two women got up quickly, tossing trash in silver containers at the door, and made their way to their respective cars. Sam called out, “Follow me,” then disappeared into her new silver BMW 330Ci, a wedding present from Simon.
The accident scene was as gruesome as the copious sirens had foretold. Sheets covered victims, blood leaked onto the warming pavement, glass and bits of automotive wonders were scattered carelessly about. A child’s doll lay forsaken in the middle of the street under a plate of shattered tempered glass.
Taylor marveled at Sam’s ability to shake off her normal life for her work. She was barking orders, looking under sheets, moving through the mayhem like a swan through a shimmering lake. As a medical examiner, it was her job to deal with carnage and mayhem, but she was so smooth and seamless that everything seemed under control the minute she got to a scene. Taylor just sat on the hood of a patrol car and tried to stay out of the way. This wasn’t her case, and there were enough people milling about that she didn’t need to get in the way.
Sam came over to her, her face a bit ashen.
“You okay?” Taylor asked with concern.
Sam shook her head and shrugged. “I am, but this is one nasty wreck. Woman in the X5 ran over the Audi over there like a tank. Killed the occupants instantly. Driver’s license says the mom’s name is Tina Young. They’re IDing the kids by the names on their backpacks-Meredith and Jason. Elementary-school age. It’s pretty nasty, took the mom’s head right off. At least I can tell the rest of the family it was quick, I doubt she had a second to know what hit her.”
“Who’s the chick from the X5? And what is it about Beemers in this town? Am I really the only person who doesn’t have one?”
“You finished? Good. The X5’s driver was Whitney Connolly. No seat belt, sailed right over the air bag and through the windshield.”
Taylor felt the shock go through her like a bolt of lightning. “Whitney Connolly, the reporter from Channel Five?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Sam. This place is going to be crawling with news trucks. What can I do?”
“Just try to distract them while I get her taken care of, okay? If anyone from Channel Five rolls up, they’re bound to recognize her SUV.”
“Do you want no comment, or do you want me to confirm that it was her?”
Sam looked at the scene for a moment. “You might as well realize her identity, but only to the Channel Five folks. They need to know right away anyway. Just use your discretion.” She walked back to the scene, moving quickly to get yellow tarps over the bodies.
Taylor walked back across the street. Uniformed officers had already closed the road. No one was going to get through but the news trucks. And they were bearing down already. Taylor was relieved to see that the first one was Channel Five, then remembered that they had the Rainman story. Oh well, they’d better stay clear of that with her. At the very least they could have a quick confab and get things straightened out. She waved them down and directed them to the side of the road.
She recognized the reporter and her cameraman. Thankfully, it wasn’t tiny Edith, but this particular reporter had covered many of her scenes in the past and had been just as obnoxious. She knew she’d have to hit quickly to keep them from rushing off and ignoring her. She motioned for the driver to open his window and slipped her head into the van.
“Tommy, Stacy, good to see you.”
“When’s the last time you’ve been happy to see us on a scene, Lieutenant? And why are you here? I thought this was just a car accident.” Stacy Harper was a bottle blonde with square tortoiseshell glasses and a distinctly Yankee accent. She had been poached from Channel Two the year before. She knew Nashville, but Taylor felt she was a bit too whiney. Rumor had it she was dating one of the Tennessee Titans football players, which wouldn’t surprise many. She had that perfect overbite that drove men wild.
“It is a car accident, but I need to tell you something.”
Stacy and her cameraman were getting impatient, ready to pull out the camera and start shooting some b- roll for Stacy’s package. The more raw footage they could compile, the better.
“What, Lieutenant? We need to start getting some shots of this scene so it can make the midday report. Hey, you want to comment on the Rainman?”
“Drop it, Stacy. Focus. Whitney Connolly was in the accident. Her X5 hit another car, killing all three people in it.”
Stacy’s eyes lit up for a moment. Immediacy was the name of the media game, and there was nothing like a scandal to boost the noontime ratings. “So you’re arresting her for vehicular manslaughter? Was she drunk? I have to call my producer, he’s going to flip.” She started to pull out her phone but caught Taylor’s eye and stopped. Realization dawned on her face.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. She’s not…”
“Yes, she is. So I think you do need to call your producer. We’re only telling you so you can talk to the station and get moving on whatever it is you need to do.”
Tommy and Stacy shared a long look. It was going to be a very complicated day. They swung into action, getting into the back of the van and starting to make calls.
Taylor stepped away from the van just as Channel Four’s van pulled up. She could see another satellite truck coming down from West End. She signaled a “hurry up” to Stacy and Tommy and started back toward the Channel Four van.
When they pulled to a stop, Taylor could tell they knew what was going on. Laura McPherson, the pretty brunette with what Taylor thought was one of the higher IQs in the field, stepped out of the van and came right for her. Taylor braced herself for the onslaught.
“Is it true that Whitney Connolly was killed in the accident?”
It never ceased to amaze her how quickly news could spread through Nashville. Taylor’s mouth started forming a “no comment” when Laura shot out her hand, palm up.
