backtracking Arlen’s life. See if he’s got something in his juvenile jacket. We’ll keep working it from our end.”
Goldman gave her legs an eyeful, then turned to Baldwin.
“Can I ask you a question, Doc? How did you narrow it down to this guy?”
“The Depo-Provera. The stabbing is a stand-in for sexual penetration. Arlen is only one of ten in the local files who are on the shot who fit the profile. I’ve got my people looking for something that might be a stressor, a breaking point that would drive him to start killing. And to be perfectly honest, when I talked to him, he gave me the creeps.”
“That’s pretty damn scientific, if you ask me. Instinct counts for a lot in this business.”
“I know. You can’t teach instinct. I tell everyone on my team to follow theirs. So I’m practicing what I preach. Arlen is involved.”
“Okay then, if you say so. I’ll get the team rounded up, and we’ll take a gander.”
Baldwin stood, stuck out his hand to shake goodbye. Charlotte just stood by his side, listening, feeling the power surge off of him. He smelled good, warm and clean, like leftover soap and shampoo and the tiniest hint of male sweat squeaking through. He didn’t wear cologne, which made her happy. She liked men who smelled like men, not flowers or wood chips or cedar. Her mind drifted back to their earlier romp.
A few seconds later, things were wrapping up. She’d missed something. Wow, she really needed to try and focus. Just being around him made her lose all track of time and space.
“Good. Thanks for your time. We’re going to go back to the office, we have more interviews to conduct. I’ve got my people back tracing the hard copies of Arlen’s life. Just give us a yell if you need anything,” Baldwin said.
He and Goldman shook hands and Goldman said, “I’ll let you know. One little problem-we do need some sort of evidentiary material to get a warrant. Judges up here aren’t easily swayed.”
“Remind them that we have a missing girl, then. See if they want Kaylie’s death on their conscience.”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya.”
Baldwin seemed willing to let it go at that, but Charlotte didn’t think he was taking the request seriously enough.
“Mr. Goldman, we need that warrant. We have to find some evidence,” Charlotte said.
“Then you do that, girlie. You go find me something that will talk these judges into letting us into the creepo’s house.”
“It’s agent, sir. ”
“Hmm. So it is. Sorry ’bout that.”
He smiled meaningfully. He wasn’t sorry at all. Charlotte had spent her life being second to the men around her, and she got damn good and tired of having to prove herself.
Goldman saw them out and Charlotte waited until they were back in the parking lot before she spoke. Complaining to Baldwin about Goldman’s treatment wouldn’t work. Besides, she’d stuck up for herself. She decided to use a different tack.
“Was it just me, or did the commander there seem to be in a hurry to get the cuffs on someone?”
Baldwin looked at her queerly. “And you think he should be taking it slow? We’ve got a missing girl out there, plus five already dead.”
“Not slow, no. But we need more information about this guy before we arrest him. Goldman was right-we need actual evidence of wrongdoing. We’re just going on a hunch. Your hunch.”
“Charlotte, you have my blessing to drum up whatever evidence you can on this guy.” He held the car door open for her. She ran a hand along his stomach as she got in.
After he slammed the door and turned the engine over, Charlotte leaned over and rubbed his crotch. “What do you say we stop off for a quickie on our way back to the office?”
“Now’s not the time. We can wait until later.” Baldwin adjusted his sunglasses, pulled out of the parking lot a tad faster than necessary.
Charlotte was getting bored with being told no. She wasn’t used to it. Most men she slept with couldn’t take no for an answer. Well, she knew just how to fix that attitude. She waited until they hit the highway south before leaning over again, this time tugging down his zipper. He groaned.
“You’re not.”
“I most certainly am.”
She heard the ghost of a laugh from above.
“We’re going to get arrested,” he said a few moments later.
She stopped and looked up at him, the back of her head tapping the steering wheel. “Just don’t wreck the car. I’m not wearing my seat belt.”
Twenty-Four
Nashville 4:45 p.m.
T aylor had never wished so hard for a day to end. Homemade horror films, vampires and now a self- proclaimed witch. She was waiting for a werewolf to come turn himself in, just to complete the ensemble.
Ariadne sat across from her, back ramrod straight, not touching the chair behind her. The woman didn’t blink much, and Taylor found her gaze disconcerting. She edged a paper clip around the top of her desk with a finger.
“Okay, go over it again. You’re a witch.”
Ariadne laughed, a musical, tinkling sound that made Taylor want to smile. “I am a sole practitioner Dianic witch, yes. I have been studying Wicca for many years, but my family is made up of witches, my mother and her mother before her. I found my path in my mid-twenties, when I couldn’t ignore the power I’d attained any longer. I was causing change, causing problems, actually, and I needed to find a way to harness the power that was building in me. Extensive practice has allowed me to temper myself, to focus my energies. And I normally wouldn’t be found dead sitting in the office of a homicide detective, but the Goddess told me to help you. And trust me, you need my help. You’re on the edge of something very strong, evil, and you need a protector.” She stopped and gazed speculatively at Taylor, eyes blank. “Though who would have ever thought I would be protecting Athena?”
“Huh?”
“You can’t see yourself very well, Lieutenant Jackson.”
Taylor abandoned the paper clip. “Listen. This is great, and I appreciate that you want to help. But I don’t believe in spells and magic, and I have a lot of work to do.” She started to stand, to dismiss this crazy woman who stared right through her.
“Don’t you?” Ariadne asked, unmoving. “You aren’t the least little bit superstitious? You don’t throw salt over your shoulder, or lift your feet when you go over railroad tracks?”
Taylor folded her arms across her chest. “I’m as superstitious as the next person. But that doesn’t mean I believe in witches.”
“But you do believe in evil, Lieutenant. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. I know evil exists. I think you’ll find that we can be of use to one another, if you’ll let me.” She paused, focused on her hands, which were spread across her lap, dainty and manicured. “I promise not to put a wart on your nose.”
She looked up and grinned, and Taylor couldn’t help but smile back. The woman had a charming laugh and small white teeth-she certainly didn’t fit the image Taylor had of a witch.
A flash caught Taylor’s eye. She glanced at it, saw the delicately wrought chain of silver encircling Ariadne’s neck, and the ornate pentacle that hung just in the indentation between her clavicle and her throat. Without thinking, she drew back slightly.
“Maid, mother and crone,” Ariadne said.
“What?”
“You were thinking I didn’t look like a witch. We believe in the incarnations. Maid-the young witch, Mother- the fertile witch, Crone-the wise woman. I’m more the maid side of things, as you can tell.” She laughed again, and Taylor couldn’t help but join her this time. She felt good, reenergized. She sat back down, chewed on her lip.
“Okay, so how did you know what I was thinking?”
