He glanced at the floor, the new cement dark against the old. He couldn’t take the chance of them coming after him.
A canister of gasoline stood quietly in the corner. Raven’s eyes fell on it and he smiled. How fitting. That’s what he needed to do.
He took his bags upstairs, lugging the heavy one over his shoulder. He loaded it all into his car, then went back into the house. The gasoline, just enough for a lawn mower date on a given Saturday afternoon, splashed merrily against the walls, the stink welcome in his nose. It was time to shed the chrysalis once and for all.
He took a cigarette from the pack of Camels that had sat on the counter for the past three weeks, the lighter, too. He was careful not to inhale-he would never sully the temple of his body with something so unnatural. A few puffs got the end glowing red, and he threw it down the stairs to the basement. There was nothing.
Frustrated, he took the lighter and a dish towel, walked halfway down the stairs, lit it and tossed it to the floor. A thin blue flame ran from the rag, and the fire caught, chuckling into a roar as it found the edges of the gasoline.
Raven rushed out of the house and jumped into the Rat, his worldly possessions lined up behind him, the stink of fear and regret washing away as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway for the last time. He glanced back, swore he saw a flame waving goodbye to him, and then the house was engulfed.
There was only one place where he would be safe tonight. He drove the car west, to his graveyard, to shelter under the oak. In the morning, he would show them all what it meant to be a God.
Ariadne woke with a start. The image from her dream was vivid against her closed lids. She let it coalesce for a moment, then sat up and began to draw. Bars. A uniform. The pale face of a young man, far from home. Sadness in his eyes.
Then a fire, a raging inferno took him, burning his soul. The boy appeared under an oak tree, in a graveyard, curled into a ball, weeping.
Ariadne knew where he was.
She laid back against the pillows, noted absently that it was deeply dark out. She’d been asleep for several hours. After a few moments, she threw back the covers and went to her altar, intent. She must meditate on this vision. Find the right path to combat the evil.
If the police wouldn’t listen to her, she’d have to do this alone.
Fifty
Quantico November 2
B aldwin weighed his options for how he wanted to tell this part of the story. He was treading into the most dangerous territory. He wasn’t blameless, far from it. But a misstep here could cost him his career. And he was suddenly sure that he wanted to stay at the FBI. He wanted to continue working with the BAU, to help Garrett. All of his early doubts vanished. All he could do was tell the truth, and hope for the best.
“Dr. Baldwin? We’re waiting.”
Reever gave him a concerned look. “You okay, buddy? You need a minute?”
Baldwin shook his head. “No. No, I’m okay.” He took a deep breath, and finished the story.
Quantico June 19, 2004 Baldwin
The dawn came early. Baldwin had managed a couple of hours of sleep. Charlotte was in the kitchen-he could hear her moving about and smelled fresh coffee. He roused himself from the bed, took a quick shower and dressed.
When he entered the kitchen, Charlotte was at the table, legs drawn up on the chair, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“I know what we need to do,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“We know it’s him, right? We know it’s Arlen. It’s not just me.”
“Right. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind.”
“Then it’s up to us to stop this.”
“Of course it is. We’re doing the best we can. The Fairfax Homicide team is excellent. They’ll find something.”
“Yes, they will. I have an idea, though. I think it’s time we circumvent Fairfax and do this ourselves.”
“Charlotte, we can’t do that. It’s their case. We’re just consulting, at their pleasure. We push too hard and Goldman will have us off this case in a heartbeat. Don’t think he won’t, he’s getting frustrated.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Sorry, you lost me.”
She sighed, hard and impatient, breath coming out in a huff. “Think about it, Baldwin. We have access to the blood evidence.”
He didn’t like where this was going. All his warning bells began to ring.
“Yes, we do, but what of it?”
“All we need is a few drops. A few drops on a handkerchief. We conduct another search of the house, and voila, there’s the evidence we need to put this bastard behind bars forever.”
Baldwin’s breath caught in his throat. “Charlotte. You’re talking about-”
She whirled on him, face contorted. He’d never seen her angry, and the sight of it unnerved him.
“I know. I know! But what else can we do? We have to take matters into our own hands. No one would ever know. And think of all the lives we’d save, of the closure we could give to the families. It’s for the greater good.”
She was inches from him now, the fire coming off her body in waves. Righteous indignation didn’t look good on her. He felt every muscle in his body tense, and realized he wanted to hit her. He’d never felt such a pure, fine rage flowing through his veins.
She grasped his hand and he jerked back as if burned. She ignored that, reached for him again. He froze as her arms went around his body. She began her succubus dance, the moves depending on the siren call in his blood to rise up and meet her. He didn’t feel it. She’d killed whatever feeling he’d had for her, all with one stupid thought spoken aloud.
This was not what he wanted. This was wrong, every bit of it. He’d always known that, but this, this open ploy at seduction after suggesting they break every code of ethics he stood for, sickened him. He stepped back and grabbed her arms, holding her away from his body. He couldn’t help himself, he gave her a little shake, trying to get her full attention. He stared hard into her eyes, making sure she understood him very clearly.
“You listen to me. I’m going to forget you said this. I’m going to look the other way while you gather your things and get the hell out of my apartment. I’m taking you off this case. You are not to get anywhere near Harold Arlen. Do you understand?”
Charlotte’s lips tightened and she wrenched her arms from his grasp. “Fuck you, Baldwin. You can’t tell me what to do. You want me just as much as I want you. You can’t deny that. And you know in your heart that this is the right path.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong. Get out, Charlotte. Get out now.”
He was yelling, and it took all his effort to ratchet it back down and calm his voice.
She stared at him, the hurt in her amber eyes palpable and deadly.
“Don’t you dare try to throw me out of your life, Baldwin. I will make sure you regret it.”
“Charlotte, threats? Is that how you keep people in your bed, under your spell?”
“I love you.” She started to cry, the tears flowing down her face, dripping off her chin. She didn’t try to hide it, stood proudly, back straight, and looked him in the eye.
“I said I love you. You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way.”
Baldwin just shook his head. He didn’t take her threats seriously, really, what could she do? Yes, they’d been having an ill-advised affair, but it wasn’t the first at the Bureau, nor would it be the last. He’d get a nasty slap on the wrist, but that was all.
