heard something, like a piece of paper was caught in the tracks. She ran the drawer back and forth, yes, something was sticking out, making a shurring noise. It was all the way in the back of the cabinet, past the file she’d just pilfered. She pulled the drawer out fully, extending it as far as it would go. Something was taped to the topside of the cabinet.
She pulled the loose corner, that was what had caught on the edge of the drawer, and felt the paper give way. She backed it out carefully, the tape peeling back slowly. She didn’t want to damage it, she knew immediately that she wasn’t meant to see this.
But she was feeling reckless, and Baldwin would never know. In case something happened, she wanted to find out what was so important to him to hide from her.
The last of the tape pulled free. She extracted it from the cabinet. Flipped it over. Felt the blood drain from her face, her head go swimmy.
It was a picture of a boy. Maybe two years old. Posed, in a soccer uniform. He had flaming-red hair, the color that would darken into bronze as the child aged. His face was still unformed, the skin pale and creamy, barely freckled, just beginning to show the edges of high, slanting cheekbones. It was the eyes that were unmistakable. They were the clear green of the forest after a spring rain. Bright. Wide. Stunning.
Baldwin’s eyes.
She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was looking at a child that had been fathered by her fiance.
Her breath caught in her throat. She felt like she was going to faint.
Baldwin had a son.
Thirty-Eight
T aylor felt her legs begin to give, wisely stepped back from the sharp edges of the cabinet and sat down hard on the carpet, the picture still clutched in her hand.
A son. Baldwin has a son.
This was what he’d been keeping from her. This was the big secret. What he’d nearly confessed to her in the car to North Carolina. No wonder he hadn’t been able to articulate his thoughts. How did you tell the woman you love that you have a kid with someone else? More importantly, if you truly loved someone, why would you keep a secret of this magnitude?
Why wouldn’t he tell her?
Taylor wasn’t sure she could stand just yet. She felt the anger begin to boil in her stomach. How long had he known? From the beginning? Recently? He’d been acting funny ever since he’d gone to Quantico for the hearing and gotten himself suspended-had he found out then? Or had the past two years of her life been a full-on lie?
And who was the mother of this mystery child?
Quick math and some basic intuition gave her an idea. Charlotte Douglas. It must have been. The red hair was the final clue. Unless Baldwin had made it his practice to do it with a bevy of redheads, planting his seed without discretion throughout D.C., which seemed rather unlikely.
My God. He’d had a child with Charlotte, and hadn’t told her. And assuming this was a current picture, if the child was only two years old, it must have happened just after Taylor first met him.
Who was this man she was planning to marry? She knew he had his secrets, all people did. She liked that he was mysterious, with murky and unspeakable bits to him. It gave her an excuse to keep parts of herself quiet. She hadn’t told him everything about her life. It was better that way. He’d admitted to so much-that he worked for the CIA in a very covert group. That he had been trained early and spoke thirteen languages. That he had planned on being a medical ethicist but instead had been drawn into profiling by Garrett Woods, a Machiavellian man if there ever were one. She knew he was strong, tender, and in love with her. Those things she knew without doubt.
But she had never known Baldwin to be a liar. Or a cheat.
Taylor swallowed back the lump in her throat, amazed at the emotions she was feeling. She had no time for this, no energy to handle his infidelities right now. She needed to find Sam.
She stood, amazed that her legs would hold her weight without shaking.
Took extra care to tape the picture back into its place. They’d have to talk about this sometime soon, but she had to prioritize.
She glanced at her watch, she’d only lost three minutes.
She felt hollow, the scar of knowledge across her heart burned. She opened the gun cabinet, extracted the weapons she needed, tucked them into her bag, closed and locked things back up. All the while, two words ran through her head: Find Sam. She felt her focus return, pinpoint and clear.
The guards were waiting patiently by the garage. She nodded to them, then got in the 4Runner and pulled out of the driveway. As soon as she got to the end of the street she opened her cell phone and called Lincoln. He was still at the CJC with Colleen Keck, ostensibly holding her, but in fact keeping her safe.
“Have you heard from Sam?” she asked.
“Not since yesterday. She sent over a postmortem report on the Schechter boy. High BAL, but no sign of drugs on the tox screen. He drowned, but was strangled first, carefully. There was hardly a mark on him. Maybe just enough to render him unconscious. There was water in his lungs, so he was still breathing when he went in the water. Why?”
“Listen to me very carefully. I need you to protect Colleen. Send Marcus to cover Fitz. I’m on my way to Forensic Medical. Sam isn’t answering her phone.”
“You don’t think-”
“Yes, I do. I think he’s taken her. He sent me a cryptic message that had her home address on it.”
“Have you seen the news this morning?”
“No, why?”
“Colleen’s blog is front and center. Zodiac letters were sent to the papers in both Las Vegas and Denver. There was a Son of Sam letter found at the scene in New York, too. Boston PD are trying to quell the fear. Their switchboard is completely overloaded. The idea of a copycat Strangler has that whole town on edge. So the story is totally out.”
Son of a bitch.
“San Fran, Vegas and Denver. The Zodiac copycat is moving east.”
“Yes. So far there’s no doubt, all the victims were regular commenters on Colleen’s blog.”
“Have there been reports of any other big murders? According to Colleen, there’s supposed to at least three of these fools running around. God knows how many more might be in play.”
That gave them both pause.
“Nothing yet, but I’ll keep checking.”
“I’ll call New York right now. Emily Callahan should have some idea of what’s been going down.”
“I’ll keep looking for similar murders. ViCAP’s going to take too long.”
“Wait,” Taylor said. “Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“Do you have a map?”
She heard clicking. “The United States, at your fingertips.”
“Look at the path the Zodiac is taking. Where does it look like he’s going?”
“Assuming he’s continuing to head east, he’s less than a day’s drive to Nashville.”
“Right. So if the other killers are doing the same thing, striking on their way here, what paths might they take?”
“Boston south could be D.C. Or maybe Philadelphia? Shoot, same with New York.”
“Lincoln, you’re going to have to start running through the entire eastern seaboard. Stick with major metropolitan areas. Call their Homicide offices and see what’s happened in the past forty-eight hours that could match these MO’s. Get a couple of people to help you, it’s going to take a while. And keep an eye on Colleen. She’s as much of a target in this as I am, though I’ll be damned if I know why.”
“We have his real name now, don’t we? Have you asked her if she recognizes the name?”
