Taylor nodded. “Yes. Just do me a favor, be aware, all right? I don’t want to take any chances. You guys are too precious to me to risk getting involved in the Pretender’s little game.”
“Not such a little game,” Sam said, a grim smile on her face.
They heard water splashing, then a deep male voice rang out in the gloom. “We got ’im!”
All the noise around her ceased. They brought the body out slowly, trying not to lose any evidence, though the victim had obviously been in the water for several days. Covered in the beginnings of adipocere, a thick, gummy wax made of decomposing fatty tissues, the gases in his body had finally pushed him to the point of buoyancy and he had floated to the surface.
The still-folded stretcher crouched like a metal spider on the uneven ground. The ’gators had a bag laid out, ready to receive the remains. With a splash, four men strong-armed the body into place.
Sam immediately beelined for the corpse, tsking in her typically Southern way. Taylor hung back for a moment, watching. She didn’t want to interrupt Sam’s communion with the dead. Sam shouted back over her shoulder, “Come on, then. I know you want to take a peek.”
Taylor edged forward until she was parallel with what used to be the body’s face. Trying not to breathe, she leaned in for a closer look. Male, late teens, it seemed. The skin was gray and doughy, wet with water and bloated tissue. Bits of matter stuck in the brown hair. There was too much damage to his face to be able to tell for sure, but she was certain they’d just found Peter Schechter. Gut instinct, maybe, or just process of elimination. He was their only missing person tonight, and this body fit the description they had in the system.
“Looks like him, bless his heart,” Sam said. She knew about the boy’s profile, everyone did. He’d been missing for five days, long enough that every cop in the city was on high alert.
“Anything leap out at you?” Taylor asked.
“You know better than that, cookie.”
“I do, but I thought I’d try.”
Sam went to her bag and dug in for a thermometer. “Best get the priest out of bed, though. I don’t want to drag this out any longer than I have to, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Can you ID him tonight, do you think?”
“I have the dental records back at the office. I’ll call Mike Tabor on my way, see if he can’t swing by and take a quick look. It’s late, but Tabor asked to be informed if we found anything. If it’s the kid, we’ll want to get his parents notified before this all leaks.”
“You can say that again.” Taylor stepped away, let Sam do her work. Sorrow flooded her. What a waste. What a goddamn waste. At least she didn’t get the sense that this was the work of the Pretender. She didn’t think she could handle another death on her conscience.
Marcus was taking notes, face pinched in the artificial light. The scent of rotting flesh permeated the scene. Floaters were the worst. Decomposition mingled with dank winter water created an unmistakable miasma especially designed to help turn even the strongest of stomachs, like three-day-old roadkill drenched in a moldy blanket. He gave her a weak smile.
“Sam’s going to try to ID the body tonight. Have you called Father Victor?” Taylor asked.
“Yes, just did. He’s aware I may need him.”
“Good. I’m happy to go back to the morgue with Sam, let you continue running things out here while we work on the identification. You won’t have to rush.”
Relief flooded his face. It was going to be a late night regardless-splitting up the duties would make things go quicker.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a bit. I’ll call you as soon as we know something.”
“Thanks, Taylor. I owe you one.”
She punched his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, yeah.”
She went back to her cruiser, grabbed her cell. She needed to let Baldwin know what she was up to. He wasn’t going to be happy about it, but in truth, she was. She needed the distraction. Working a murder, even peripherally, would keep her mind off the one she planned to commit.
Seventeen
B aldwin answered his cell on the first ring. It was Taylor, her voice thick with exhaustion. He took the news and sighed. Another dead. As horrible as it sounded, he was almost glad she’d gotten involved. The distraction would be good for her. There was nothing like Taylor with a new case to solve; she was a force to be reckoned with. One that he loved to watch.
He wasn’t watching her now. He was home, waiting for her. He wasn’t sure how much he liked that, but if he pushed too hard, held her too close…Taylor would push back if he smothered her. Strong girl. His warrior woman. Despite that, though Taylor didn’t know it, there were four highly trained agents on their way to Nashville. They’d stay out of sight, her watchers, ready for any contingency. She would be safe, at least for the time being.
His other line beeped. He ignored it. Instead he listened to the woman he adored tell him she’d be late, for him to go ahead and eat without her. He told her he loved her, and let her go.
Baldwin set the phone down, ran his hands through his hair, making the black bristle stand on end. Scrubbing it helped him think, and he did so violently, accidentally scraping his nails along his scalp.
This had to stop. They needed to find the Pretender. This tightrope walking was going to end badly, for both him and Taylor, if he didn’t exert some control over the situation and find a solution.
He knew what that solution was, but he didn’t even want to think about it. Admitting it would make it real, and push him even further into the abyss. His ass was already hanging out with the FBI, killing a suspect while on suspension would be the final nail in his coffin. He needed to find a way around. Capture, not elimination. Then he could get back to himself, to his relationship, to his job. He damn well didn’t want to let it all slip away, let that fucking bastard take everything he’d been fighting for. It had been too long since he’d felt settled.
He went to the kitchen and poured a mug full of milk, added chocolate syrup and a package of instant coffee. He put it in the microwave and waited for it to heat through. He needed the sugar, the energy. Despite Taylor’s assurances, he would wait up for her. She’d be hungry when she got home, maybe for food, maybe for him. He ate a banana and drank his mocha, let the warmth fill him up. The hot mug felt good on his cold hands.
Back in the living room, he checked to see who’d called while he was talking to Taylor. He was elated when he saw the caller ID. Wendy Heinz. At last. Wendy was the graphologist he’d hired to look at the note from the trailer. Ayin tahat ayin- a most literal message.
His excitement grew as he listened to the voice mail.
Wendy’s voice had a sense of elation. “I’ve gone through the pages you sent me, and I have something you’re not going to believe. Please call me as soon as you can.”
Hot damn.
He checked his watch-10:30 p.m. Not too late to call, he knew Wendy was a night owl. Despite her long days testifying in court, teaching graphology at the University of California, and writing preeminent textbooks on the subject of criminal graphology, she was working on a novel in her spare time. Spare time meant early mornings and late nights. When she could find some quiet, away from her day-to-day responsibilities.
He dialed her number, and Wendy answered on the first ring, her tone jubilant.
“Dr. Baldwin! I’m glad you were able to return my call so quickly.”
“It was a message I could hardly resist. What do you have for me?”
He heard papers shuffling in the background. “A bit more than you’re expecting, probably. So you have something to write on?”
“So long as you promise me you won’t be analyzing it, yes.”
Wendy laughed. “Good one, Doc. Okay, here we go. The letter you sent me was so short that it’s hard to make too many impressions from it, outside of the fact that an increasing rightward slant is indicative of poor impulse control and the propensity toward rage. But that’s not the good part. I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time. I’ve seen a lot of handwriting, consulted on a number of cases. It took me so long to get back to you because I needed to go look at an old case file. There was something about this handwriting that felt…familiar to
