“Listen to me very carefully. I want you to go inside the house, hit the alarm, then get on your cell phone and call for backup. Do not hang up the phone, Taylor, do you understand me?”
She didn’t argue. Stepping inside, she locked the door behind her, went to the panel in the kitchen and pressed the button that would send a silent alarm to the security monitoring system. The call would let them know that she was in imminent danger, needed cops rolling her way immediately with lights and sirens off. She’d never had cause to use it before, simply pushing the button made the hair raise on the back of her neck. When she and Baldwin had the system put in, he’d insisted on the feature. She wondered now if this was the reason why. He knew something.
“Baldwin. I’ve tripped the silent alarm. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t, not entirely. This person you saw, describe him to me.”
“Hey. Tell me what is going on.”
“Taylor, please, I’m asking you to trust me. Just tell me what he looked like.”
Taylor conjured the man, feeling her pulse race as he reappeared in her mind’s eye.
“Tall, at least six-two. Brown hair, longish, falling over his right eye. Tan slacks, a cream sweater under a blue windbreaker. I couldn’t see any more than that.”
“If I faxed you a picture, could you ID him?”
“You know who this is? What the hell?”
“Just…go grab this fax. I’m sending it now. I think I might know who it is. And if it’s him, you’re in danger.”
“I can take care of myself, Baldwin. Unless he can stop bullets-”
“Not from him. No one is safe from him, gun or no. Just go look at the fax, Taylor.”
His voice was strained and coupled with a note she’d never heard before. Fear. It scared her. She climbed the stairs two at a time and went into Baldwin’s office on the second floor. The paper was printing out of the fax machine. She picked it up and glanced at it.
“Yes, Baldwin. It’s the same guy.”
“Oh, God.” Baldwin was breathing heavily into the phone. “Where the hell are the cops?”
“Uh, babe? I am a cop, unless you forgot.” Her doorbell rang. “Hear that? They’re here.”
“Check before you open the door.” She started down the stairs, listening to Baldwin screaming at someone in the background. Wow, she’d never heard him get this rattled before. This character must be quite the creep.
The doorbell rang again, and she saw movement through the glass insert. She reached for the knob. It felt slightly hot, but she knew that was her imagination. She turned the lock and swung open the door.
The vision before her looked like something out of the apocalypse. Surreal. B-movie cinematic. Two burly men, one blond, one redhead, both crumpled in a bloody pool at the top of her steps. She could see an early-model generic gray Ford Taurus parked on the street in front of the house, knew they were the undercover unit the alarm company had sent. Their throats gaped at her, slit wide from a sharp blade. The redhead was still alive, barely. She could see him mouthing the word sorry over and over, his eyes blank, emptying. His mouth stopped moving as she watched.
Her peripheral vision registered the man who’d been at the edge of the woods standing in the grass of the front lawn, hands in his pockets. She looked up and time stopped. They stared at each other, eyes locked. He didn’t move toward her, didn’t threaten. Then he nodded, puckered up his lips and blew her a kiss. Taylor blinked, hard, not believing what her mind was telling her was happening, and he was gone. Not more than two seconds had passed.
“Oh, my God,” she yelled. She slammed the door shut and threw the bolt. Jesus, she’d had a clear shot at him. She’d never raised her weapon. What in the hell? Had she frozen? Had he been a figment of her imagination? Her training was unconscious at this point, she should have leveled her weapon and taken a shot. Why hadn’t she? Confusion flooded in; she came back when she heard yelling.
“What, what?” Baldwin was roaring in her ear. She ignored him for the moment, ran upstairs and secured a second and third magazine for her gun. She came back to the top of the stairs, sat on the step. Putting the gun in her lap, she opened her cell phone, called in to dispatch. Two phones, one gun, and one suspect who was playing tricks with her head. She didn’t like the odds.
“Hold on,” she said to Baldwin as dispatch came through the line.
“Nashville dispatch.”
“This is Lieutenant Jackson. Code three, 10-51, 10-54. Repeat, 10-51, 10-54! Officer needs assistance code three. I need bodies at my location, my home address immediately. I have a suspect on my property, armed and dangerous, repeat, armed and dangerous. He’s just killed two security guards on my front step. I don’t have him in my sights-I am locked inside the house. I need you rolling now!”
“Oh, dear, sweet Jesus.” Baldwin was cursing in her right ear. Dispatch was moving, incredulous at her call.
“Lieutenant, confirm that for me again. You’ve got a 10-51, 10-54, code three, officers down. We are rolling, lights and sirens, Lieutenant, ETA three minutes. You all right?”
“Confirmed, off-duty officers down. I am uninjured, but I’ll be better when y’all get here. Tell them the suspect is six-two, brown on brown, wearing tan pants, cream sweater, blue windbreaker.”
“Will do, LT. Be careful.”
She hung up. She could hear the faint screams of the sirens already, knew she’d be fine, but her hands were shaking. She slipped the cell back into its belt hook, palmed the Glock. He couldn’t unlock doors and get inside that quickly, and even if he did, she had her weapon trained on the stairwell, locked on the front door. Sweat beaded on her forehead, in the small of her back, between her breasts. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to force the adrenaline back into dormancy. Anger replaced the physical rush. She hissed at Baldwin.
“What in the name of all that’s holy is happening here? And how do you know this person? Talk fast, the cavalry is coming.”
“Oh, Taylor. I am so sorry. I should have trusted my own judgment. I knew you were in danger, I just didn’t realize he’d move so quickly. I’m getting on a plane. I’ve already got the pilots gassing up and revving the engines. I’ll be wheels up in fifteen minutes. When they clear the scene, get out of there. Go to the office, make sure you’ve got a guard on you. If it makes you feel better, it’s me he wants.”
“Who wants? Baldwin, you are making no sense.” There was banging on her door. She looked out the front window, there were four police cruisers and multiple people milling across her front yard. “They’re here. I need to go deal with this. You’re coming now?”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Who is he, Baldwin?” She walked down the stairs, listening to his struggle on the other end of the phone. Knowing he was coming somehow gave her the courage to open the door, allowing the sight of the two dead security guards to fill her with horror again. Weapons were everywhere, black and dangerous, bristling with unvented fury. Officers surrounded her house, scattering like quail into the backyard and the forest beyond. The scent of blood was strong in the air; the dogs across the street were baying in frantic unhappiness.
“Who is he?” she asked again.
“His name is Aiden,” Baldwin answered. “It might as well be Death.”
Twenty-Seven
T aylor was sitting in the break room at the CJC, toying with a Styrofoam cup. She looked at the fat industrial wall clock for the thousandth time. Damn it, it was nearly noon. When were they going to come talk to her? And where was Baldwin?
This sense of doom, of not being able to do anything, was worse than anything she’d ever felt. Waiting wasn’t exactly what she was built to do. Kick ass, take names, and worry about the ramifications later, that was her job. Sitting around being protected, that wasn’t on the menu when she check-marked the box and signed up to be a cop. She was the one who was supposed to be doing the protecting.
Instead, she sat in this overly bright room, away from the nexus of communication. Hell, she hadn’t even been allowed to drive herself to the office. Baldwin must have called in to Price, because a burly patrol officer
