She strode off and Taylor looked back into the room. She turned the volume back up. McKenzie’s face was twisted in alarm-she had missed something. Fane was talking again.
Taylor felt her blood chill when she heard the girl’s words.
“You know nothing. He’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them all.”
Forty-Three
Quantico June 17, 2004 Charlotte
C harlotte was fascinated by death. She felt at home, comfortable, at ease when staring into the abyss. Her job gave her the best of all possible worlds, an overwhelming supply of killings to analyze, hypotheses to form, and perpetrators to trace down. She knew empirically that they were monsters, but she was mesmerized by their actions, the sense of purpose that drove them to satiate their desires by exterminating their prey. Predators were her specialty. Knowing inside of them, their dirty little secrets, the twisted, rotted parts that made them tick-that’s what she was good at.
She hadn’t told Baldwin about the basement yet. Arlen’s basement. The crime-scene techs had gone over it and found nothing. It was empty, with no real indication of use outside of a lack of spiderwebs and dust, not surprising considering how organized and clean the rest of the house had been. But she’d felt something down there in the cold, dank dark. Something evil and wrong. Something she hadn’t told Baldwin about, because it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. And she knew bringing her theory to Baldwin, trying to explain her thought process, would lead to an exploration of her own past that she wasn’t ready to divulge, not just yet.
She had the Clockwork Killer file open on her lap, a glass of Scotch with just a splash of water sitting next to her elbow. Baldwin’s couch was extremely comfortable. Heightening this feeling was the fact that Baldwin himself was at the other end, staring into space.
She wondered what he was thinking about. The case, sure, of course, but was there something else in his face? A sense of tenderness, perhaps? Could he possibly be thinking of her?
They’d been distracting each other terribly. Sparrow knew; Charlotte could tell in the way the woman shrank back when Charlotte tried to stroke her arm. She was surprised to learn Sparrow wasn’t inclined to share. That was fine. She had more going on here with Baldwin anyway. A future. A life.
Baldwin took a deep breath and turned to her. “Charlotte, we need to talk.”
“That sounds ominous,” she said lightly. She didn’t want to scare him off, not now. Not when things were going so well. She had everything planned to perfection-she didn’t need him growing a conscience and ruining it all.
“Not ominous. Just…necessary. This affair needs to stop.”
Charlotte closed the file in her lap and sat very still.
“I thought we were having fun,” she said.
“I know. We are. But Charlotte, I’m your boss. I’m responsible for you, for the team. I can’t be sleeping with you. It’s not right.”
“I could transfer.”
She felt him tense. “You’d do that? You worked so hard to get into the BAU. You’d be willing to leave for me?”
“Yes, I would.” She tucked her feet under her and faced him. He was obviously surprised by her statement. She went all in. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I want to be with you more than I want to be in the BAU. I’ll happily transfer out if it means we can continue seeing each other.”
“I’m not sure what to say. I never thought-”
“Would you rather I stay and we stop seeing each other?” There, she’d thrown down the challenge. Now she’d know just how serious he was about her.
Baldwin didn’t answer right away. Shit. That wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for.
“Forget I said anything,” she said, injecting as much ice into her voice as she could. She stood up, dropped the file on the coffee table. It knocked into her Scotch, splashing some on the edge.
“Whoa, Charlotte, hold on.” Baldwin was on his feet too, his hands gripping her arms like a vise. He was so damn strong, even if she wanted to get away, she wouldn’t be able to pry herself loose.
He leaned in to kiss her. She tried to hold very still and not respond, but that only lasted a moment. She felt his tongue flick at the edge of her lips and opened her mouth, accepting him. He tasted like Scotch and honey, and she kissed him greedily, unsure whether this was the last time, or just the beginning.
When they finally broke for air, Baldwin gave her a smile.
“We’ll talk about it again in the morning.”
Forty-Four
Nashville 5:00 p.m.
M cKenzie leaned across the table.
“Who is he, Fane?”
The girl just shook her head, eyes darting toward the door.
“Talk to me, Fane. Who is going to kill everyone?”
She glared at him, lips closed tight together. McKenzie tried a few more times, then shook his head at the camera. He stood and left the room, met Taylor in the hall.
“At least she didn’t lawyer up, like Susan Norwood.”
“That’s a plus. Her parents are nowhere to be found.”
“Crime Scene find anything at her house?”
“Nothing that I’ve heard of yet. I’ll put a call into Tim, see if he’s got anything. I need to go talk to Susan Norwood’s parents. Want to come?”
“Yeah. When are you heading over to Forensic Medical?”
“Oh, damn. I forgot Sam needed to talk to me. I better call her.” She flipped open her phone and speed-dialed Sam. She answered, gruff and impatient.
“About damn time you called me back. I’ve got some stuff for you.”
“Sorry. It’s been a crazy morning. Can you cover it on the phone or do I need to be there in person?”
“I’ll just tell you. Brandon Scott? Anal tearing, evidence of extensive sexual abuse. Recent and past traumas.”
Taylor felt her heart drop. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Either he’s an active homosexual, or he’s been raped repeatedly.”
“How recent? Was there a PERK done?”
“Yes, and the physical evidence recovery kit got us exactly squat. I cultured some blood, but it ended up being his. There were no other bodily fluids. There was lubricant, probably from a condom. I couldn’t tell you the last time it happened definitively, but it was recent enough. One more thing-his tox came back clean, just like we thought. He was killed outright, overpowered and beaten to death. COD is blunt force trauma and attendant exsanguination. The rest are drug overdoses.
“He died first too, before the others. His liver temp and vitreous fluid confirm it. He was dead between 12:30 and 2:00 p.m. on the thirty-first. The others are in the two to three range.”
Damn. This was why she liked to attend the posts herself; she could have used this information in her earlier interrogations. No matter, she had it now.
“The dosed Ecstasy was the cause?”
“That’s the most likely scenario.”
“Okay, Sam. Thank you for this. I’ll toss it into our mix. Do you need anything else from me?”
“Just stop sending lab work to my husband. I haven’t seen him in two days.” But there was a smile in her voice.
