ponytail, then stopped. Her arms dropped to her side as exhaustion overcame her.
“Still want that cigarette?” he asked.
Taylor shook her head. “Hon, I need to go to bed. Take me?”
“Of course.” He stood, pulling her to her feet. He intended to be tender, to gently raise her to her feet, brush her lips with his, but the proximity of her body coupled with this strange vulnerability was too much for him. He kissed her roughly. She responded, arms wrapped around him like a vise, and for a moment he wondered if they’d even make it upstairs. The kiss deepened and he felt himself harden. She grabbed his hand and led him from the kitchen. He turned off the light as they went.
Friday
Thirty
T aylor woke at 5:00 a.m. The barest hint of light nudged at the blinds, day trying to force its way into their bedroom. She glanced at Baldwin-he was lying on his back, naked, arms flung over his head. She rolled toward him, snuggling in to his bare chest. His arms came round her body automatically, their warmth and safety allowing her to close her eyes again.
She was just drifting back to sleep when the phone rang. They both jumped. She glanced at the clock, more time had passed than she thought. It was now six-forty.
“You get it. I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she said.
Baldwin groaned, then unhanded her and reached for the phone. She curled up on her side, strangely happy. After everything that happened yesterday, the knowledge that he was here with her made the bad stuff seem less important.
Baldwin rumbled hello into the phone, sounding so hoarse and male that it warmed her insides. A few seconds later he stiffened, then sat up, pulling the sheet with him. He reached for the television remote, clicking it on and turning the station to MSNBC. He nudged her in the back. She rolled to him, and he pointed at the TV. He turned the sound up, and her heart sank. A blonde wearing a well-cut cream suit and a New York newscaster bob was in a split screen with Michelle Harris. Concern was etched across her artificially smooth forehead.
“Miss Harris, you’re telling us that the Metro Nashville Police have mishandled your sister’s murder investigation? It was our understanding that a suspect has been arrested in the case, your brother-in-law, is that correct?”
“That’s true, they have arrested Todd. But after the situation yesterday, I can’t be sure that he was the right person to arrest. If the police can’t be trusted not to kill their own, how could they possibly arrest the right man?”
“Oh, God,” Taylor said.
The blonde pursed her lips and tapped a pen against them, looking pensive. “Ms. Harris, is there something that you’ve discovered that questions the veracity of the arrest?”
Michelle looked confused for a moment, and Taylor realized she didn’t know the meaning of the word veracity. A moment of pity overcame her and just as quickly fled when Michelle spoke again.
“All I know is that this investigation has been a mess from the word go. And to top it all off, the woman leading the charge has been on the news here because of her sordid private life.”
A malicious smile spread across Michelle’s face. Taylor thought don’t do it. Michelle ignored the silent plea.
“It was all over the news last night, those disgusting tapes of her having sex with her partner, then shooting him to death in cold blood. What kind of person does that? And how can the Nashville police leave her on the job?”
“An excellent point, Ms. Harris. Representatives from the Metro Nashville police have confirmed to MSNBC that Lieutenant Taylor Jackson has been relieved of duty pending an investigation into her actions.”
Taylor’s stomach turned. “Oh, Jesus. I think I’m going to throw up.”
Baldwin started to turn the television off. His face, unguarded for a moment, was contorted with anger.
“We will sue the living shit out of them for that, babe. Don’t worry for a minute. They have no right-”
“Wait, shhh. Stop, stop, don’t turn that off. What’s she saying?”
The blonde had finished her character assassination of Taylor and gone back to the matter at hand. “Now, tell me, Ms. Harris, what did you find last night that convinces you that this investigation is being mishandled?”
Michelle Harris gleamed. She held up a sheaf of papers and shook them. The rustling was amplified, she’d gotten the papers directly next to the mike that was clipped to the top of her blouse. “That detective on the case, the lieutenant, she’s got a history of brutality. I have a friend who told me she has been cited several times in the past for over-the-top violence against suspects. She’s killed more people than anyone on the police force. It’s all right here.”
The anchor was beside herself with glee. “We need to take a break, please stay with us.” The screen went to commercial and Baldwin hit mute. Taylor already had the phone in her hand.
“Whoa, who are you calling?”
Taylor stopped, then set the phone back in the cradle.
“Work. Fitz. Someone. I don’t know. I can’t believe she’d go on the news and say that. Where is she getting her information?”
“That’s an excellent question. Mischaracterized as it may be, that’s damaging.”
Taylor started to pace. “I figured she was a fame seeker the second she started doing the talk shows. Corinne was the favorite, Michelle was the one in the family who always felt outcast. I’ve assumed this is her way of getting some attention-first going on everywhere to talk about finding the body, the 911 tapes, and now this. Something isn’t quite right with Miss Michelle, I’ll tell you that right now. No way, Jose.” She grabbed the phone again.
“Taylor,” Baldwin said.
She continued dialing, setting the phone between her shoulder and her ear, looking for a pad she kept on the night table to write some quick notes.
“What?”
“Babe, you can’t do that. You need to let me handle it.”
“Of course I can. What do you-” The realization hit her. She stopped short, nearly fell back in the bed with the weight of it.
She had no badge. She was suspended. Without her shield, she couldn’t do a damn thing to stop this. Anger rose to the surface. That damn bitch Norris.
The phone was answered on the other end. Taylor murmured, “Wrong number.” She hung up the handset, looked at Baldwin.
“I can’t just sit by and let this slide, Baldwin. I have to do something. What do they expect, I’ll sit here like a good little girl while they submarine my career?”
“Honey, you’re going to have to do just that. Let me handle this. We’ll be able to prove your innocence in no time, but while that’s happening, you need to keep out of it. Keep your nose clean. Though I admit, I’m not comfortable letting you sit here unguarded. Aiden is still out there. He’s not happy with me.”
Great. An international psycho camped in her backyard, her shield and gun confiscated, a case breaking wide open, and she needed to keep her nose clean. Right.
Baldwin climbed out of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower and head downtown. Let me think about how to keep you protected.”
“I don’t need protecting, Baldwin. For God’s sake, I’m a cop. I have weapons. We have the alarm. Aiden isn’t going to get anywhere near me again.”
He turned to her, sat back down on the edge of the bed. She slid closer, rested her head on his shoulder. She didn’t want someone else protecting her. Between the two of them, they could handle anything.
“Babe,” he started again, softer this time. “You need to understand my position. Aiden is a cunning bastard. He’s been killing with impunity for years, practically sanctioned by my own actions on his behalf. He doesn’t lie
