“Yes, she does. She’s brilliant, can write like the wind. I’d…well, I admire her. She’s got what it takes to make something in this industry. Went to the J School at Columbia, that’s as good as it gets. Wrote for the paper there, had some freelance jobs for the Times
…she’s a sharp cookie.” Daphne fiddled with a pencil she found on Taylor’s desk, tappity, tappity, tap.
“So why is she working here? If she was that talented, couldn’t she get hired onto one of the big papers?”
“No, no, that was her choice. She decided to take a year and get out of New York, see if it didn’t broaden her horizons. She chose Nashville because she’s got some god-awful crush on John Siegenthaler.” Tappity, tappity, tap.
“Siegenthaler Senior? Isn’t he a little old for her tastes?” Taylor reached over the desk and took the pencil.
Daphne stared at her for a moment, then broke into the first smile Taylor had seen from the girl.
“No, no, not in a sexual way. His mind. She finds him intellectually stimulating, wanted to walk in his footsteps for a bit. Of course, the Tennessean isn’t the investigative powerhouse it used to be, we all know that.”
Taylor shot Baldwin a look, put the pencil back in its holder. He took the hint, continued with the questions.
“Jane is from New York?”
“Yes. She’s such a city girl, too. Really kind of funny, the way she reacts to all the Southernisms around here. She’s got this nasally accent, not a hard, brassy one, just definitely uptown. When she orders food she gets all kinds of looks.”
Ah, good, Taylor thought. Something like that would make her stand out, and someone might remember when they saw her last.
“Where would she have gone last night, Daphne? You said she wanted to get out of the house because your boyfriend was over. Did she usually leave when he stopped by?”
“Yeah. She thinks Zac is some kind of idiot because he plays football. He isn’t, but she just turns up her nose. She’s like that-has the literati attitude. Like just because she can manipulate words, she’s smarter than everyone. She was actually having kind of a difficult time here. She pissed off a few people at the paper with her attitude. I mean, yeah, she’s brilliant, but sometimes you don’t need everyone in the room to know just how brilliant you are.”
Taylor leaned back against the door and crossed her arms. “Who did she piss off?”
Daphne laughed softly.
“Who didn’t she piss off? She just grates some people the wrong way-it’s the Yankee in her. She doesn’t see the need for subtlety that often, and you know how it is here. People bristle when you put on airs. Not that she was so bad, but any time you get a young, pretty little thing mouthing off, it’s going to cause problems.”
“Any idea where she might have headed when she left the house last night?”
“No. I mean, she’d go to Starbucks sometimes, hang out there with her laptop. But she left it at home last night, just took some book and jammed, obviously pissed at me. I wasn’t really worried about it, that’s just how she gets sometimes. Likes to have a quiet environment, and Zac’s a little rowdy sometimes. Especially during the season, he can get temperamental. But since the Titans put him on injured reserve, he’s been kinda down. We were planning on having a couple of drinks and hanging out, watch a movie or something. Nothing terribly loud. She didn’t really have to go. I think she was just in a mood.”
“She a big drinker?”
“Naw, not too bad. She’ll have a few beers at a bar, or some wine, but she’s not into the hard stuff. She’s a little goody-goody like that. Total lightweight.”
“Does she talk to home often?”
Daphne shook her head. “Not that I know of. She isn’t close to her family, she did tell me that. I think her dad is dead. Jane has only ever talked about him in the past tense. She had a picture of him in her room a while ago, but I haven’t seen it lately. Her mom must have remarried-she left a message for Jane once and her last name was different. It’s not a topic she’s ever been open about, you know? I don’t think we’ve ever gone in-depth about her background.”
“That’s a little strange for roommates, isn’t it?”
“Naw. We met through Craig’s List. I needed a roommate fast, so we didn’t know each other at all when she moved in. We’ve only been in that apartment since September, and we can go days without seeing each other. We don’t hang out or anything. Just aren’t all that close.”
“Okay, Daphne. I’m going to have a uniform take you back to your apartment. After you gather some things for me, he can take you back to work if you’d like. I’d like you to give the officer her date book, if you can find it, and any pictures you might have. You said her laptop was still there? Give that to him, too.”
“It’s password protected. You’ll never get in.”
Taylor smiled at her. “We’re actually pretty good with that kind of stuff, Daphne.”
“Jane wouldn’t like that, though. She’s really proprietary about her stuff.”
“You let us deal with that, okay? We’ll take full responsibility. If you hear anything from her, I want you to call me, okay? I’m sure this is all going to work out.”
“No, it won’t. This creep, he does bad things to women. He doesn’t let them go once he has them.” She teared up, and Taylor laid a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re making assumptions. You spend all day with journalists, you know better. Let us look into this. Everything is going to be fine.”
I hope, Taylor thought. I hope.
Taylor arranged for the girl to be taken home, watching Baldwin stalk her office. Two steps, turn, two steps, turn. There wasn’t enough room to pace; he looked more like a caged circus lion in a too-small pen.
“What’s wrong?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, a lopsided smile on his face. “What isn’t wrong?”
“Getting a bit melodramatic, aren’t you?”
“Oh, come on, Taylor. This is supposed to be a great week, and here we are, chasing another madman. We’ve got the queen bitch out there waiting to drop some sort of bombshell, a possible missing person, and I just want to get on a plane Sunday morning and spend three weeks drinking wine, eating carbonara and fucking you silly.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.”
He stopped and turned to her. “You ready to face the ice princess?”
“Baldwin, Charlotte Douglas doesn’t scare me, ‘doctor’ or not. I can handle myself, thank you very much. Let’s get it over with.”
As she walked to the door and opened it, she heard Baldwin mutter, “Nothing scares you.”
Man, she wished that were the truth.
Charlotte Douglas was right where Taylor had left her fifteen minutes earlier, batting her eyelashes at Marcus and Fitz. Lincoln had retreated to his desk, and Taylor gave him mental brownie points for not falling for the act. She hated women like Charlotte, women who thought the only power they had resided between their legs. Taylor knew where her power was-between her ears and strapped to her hip. She’d never felt simpering a necessity to elicit a response from the opposite sex.
Taylor cleared her throat, and Charlotte stopped mid-sentence and turned. Taylor looked her up and down-an expensive woman. Finely tailored tweed jacket, a pencil skirt, brown calfskin boots-the outfit probably cost more than Taylor’s truck payment. Her auburn hair was swept into a chignon, her makeup artfully applied. Yep, this was one high-maintenance chick. Beautiful, if you liked the cold, pale look. Taylor didn’t.
“Dr. Douglas, we can go into the conference room for your presentation now.”
Charlotte’s eyes were bright. “He took another one?”
“We have nothing to indicate that, Dr. Douglas. Now, if we could just get to your presentation, I’d like to know what’s so exciting that you felt the need to fly down here to share it with us. After you.”
I’ll be damned if I’m going to discuss my case with you, you bitch, Taylor told her with her eyes.
Fuck you, too, Charlotte’s empty gaze said back.
