named Bud had bodily taken her from the house and thrown her into his cruiser. He screamed off into the quickening morning with her in the passenger seat, slightly dazed at the ferocity of his action. She wasn’t accustomed to being pushed around.
Price had met her at the doors to the CJC, his mustache drooping. Fatigue, anger, hunger-all showed up in the man’s facial hair. Taylor had learned to read the twitching of his lips before looking into his eyes long ago. When she realized he was worn-out, she did look him in the eye. What she saw there worried her. More was happening than she was being told.
She’d been debriefed, escorted to this room, handed a cup of coffee and told to sit tight. Price had shut the door behind her and she’d half waited to hear the sound of the lock being thrown. It hadn’t, but she decided she’d listen to her boss and sit still. The minutes ticked by, ten, fifteen, thirty, forty-five, fifty-five. Nearly an hour passed with no word. The clock slammed into the top of the hour and she couldn’t take it anymore.
Oh, screw this, she thought. She stood, tossed the cup in the trash and got her hand on the door. She opened it to see Baldwin coming at her like a heat-seeking missile. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled. There was still a tiny bit of lingering tension after their fight, but when he put his mouth on hers, all was forgotten. She luxuriated in his kiss, in his nearness. She wrapped her arms around his body, wondering if he was always this warm. She didn’t want to be the one who ended the kiss, waited for him to pull back. When he did, she stepped away, breathless, slammed the door and crossed her arms across her chest.
“That took more than an hour. Talk,” she commanded.
“Wait a minute,” he replied. “Price is-”
The door to the break room opened again and she jumped out of the way. Price entered the room. He didn’t speak, just helped himself to a cup of coffee. He sat at the table, took a healthy gulp and grimaced.
“God, that’s bad. It must be old.” He reached over his shoulder and tossed the remains in the sink, set the cup down on the table with a soft plop, then sighed heavily.
“Captain, what is going on?” Taylor’s words were measured. She was starting to get highly annoyed.
Price and Baldwin shared a look. Price’s nod was barely perceptible. Baldwin gestured to the chair, indicating Taylor should go ahead and have a seat. With a glare at them both, she did.
“What?” she asked.
“Okay.” Baldwin pulled out a chair with a scrape, and sat. “There are two things happening right now. We’re searching the woods behind our house for Aiden. He is exceptionally dangerous, and pissed off at me, which makes him even more frightening.”
“Baldwin, who is he?”
He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “That is a very long story.” He looked at Price. “This guy is on our wanted lists. He’s international, which is why you aren’t familiar with him. We don’t know why he’s in the States.” Price nodded, and Baldwin turned back to Taylor. “We have something else going on that you need to deal with first.”
“Just tell me what’s happening.”
Both men grew silent. Taylor waited for a moment, doomsday thoughts spinning through her head. When neither spoke, she threw up her hands in frustration.
“For God’s sake, I can handle it. Did my dad break out of prison, or my mother die?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then the world isn’t at an end. Just tell me already. You know I hate this kind of shit. Stop protecting me.”
Baldwin looked at Price, then back at Taylor. “The media has your videotapes.”
Taylor didn’t move, but her heart fluttered. She’d spoken too soon. The apocalypse was upon her. “No,” she said.
Price cleared his throat. “Yes. It gets worse. There is a tape circulating of the night David Martin died. It shows you shooting him.”
“I know I shot him. I was there, remember? He was chasing me through the cabin, trying to kill me. I had to shoot him. It was him or me.” Her voice sounded weak, and she sat straighter in the chair. “It was him or me,” she repeated more firmly. “Everyone knows that already.”
Baldwin nodded. “We know. But the videotape that’s been released doesn’t exactly show that.”
“What are you talking about? If it’s off the cameras that took the shots of us having sex-sorry, Captain-then it will show exactly what happened. I’ve seen the sex tapes. The angle would have been perfect.”
“The angle was perfect. But it doesn’t look like self-defense. He was begging you not to shoot him, and you take a step closer and plug him.” She started to interrupt but Price raised his hand. “I know you didn’t kill him like that. Your version of what happened stood up in court, and I know you wouldn’t lie. But someone has made it look like that’s exactly what happened, and it’s been fed to the media. We have a bit of a problem, as you can imagine.”
“What’s the problem? I’ll go on television and tell them what happened. That whatever they’ve been given is a fake.”
Baldwin and Price exchanged glances again.
Price spoke first. “Taylor, I can’t stop this immediately. We have to go meet with the Office of Professional Accountability. They are making some serious noise.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Baldwin.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said. “It will all be fine. Go with Price. I’ve got some calls to make. We’ll figure it out, I promise. Okay?”
Taylor stared at him, recognized that he was barely holding it together. Things must be worse than she could imagine. She licked her lips and gave him a tiny smile. She realized he’d been holding his breath.
“Okay.” She turned to Price. “But Captain, tell me one thing. How did this tape make it to the media?”
He had the good manners to look embarrassed. “I got an anonymous phone call around seven-thirty this morning, saying you were filmed in a compromising position. The caller assured me that it was going to air on the midday news. But whoever did this coordinated their attack, Taylor. The sex tapes haven’t broadcast yet locally, they are on the national cable news networks. Damn media fuckers didn’t bother to confirm the source. It was out before I had a chance to stop it.” His voice broke. “And I did try, Taylor. I did try. We could demand they take down the story, but that’s going to add fuel to the fire. The sex tapes and the subsequent shooting video, all of this has been carefully planned to take you down. We’ll figure out another way to fight it, I swear to you.”
Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all. The word national replayed itself in her mind a few times, giving her a real flavor of the exact type of shit she was in. Taylor shut her eyes, tried to remember the last time she’d been called in front of the OPA. It was still called the Investigative Services Division then, and it hadn’t gone well. There were new people involved now, new management. Maybe this would go smoothly. A knot in her stomach gave way to a fiercer, gnawing pain. She winced, swallowed hard, then opened her eyes.
“Fuck,” she said.
Twenty-Eight
M etro’s Office of Professional Accountability was freezing cold. Someone had turned the air-conditioning on full, complete overkill considering the still moderate temperatures outside.
It took all of Taylor’s self-control not to shake. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression, didn’t want Captain Delores Norris to think she was scared. She figured the air-conditioning was a trick they used. Anything to make themselves feel more powerful. Price didn’t seem affected, just crossed his left ankle over his right knee and sat quietly, obviously lost in thought.
Taylor hadn’t had much contact with the OPA since David Martin’s death, only a standard investigation a month ago when she’d been forced to discharge her weapon into the killer called Snow White. That was fine by her. The officers of the OPA weren’t ever very popular with the rank and file. They couldn’t afford to be chummy, had to keep themselves separate, above reproach. No fraternization.
