able to get him well placed, the best we could do, considering. He’s at the Guardian facility, off Antioch Pike and Old Harding.”
“Awesome, Julia. Thank you.”
“Do I want to know?”
“I just need to ask him some questions later. Nothing to worry about. This whole case ties back to his father, I just need to clarify something.”
“Okay, Taylor. Good luck.”
Taylor knew Julia had worked hard to take care of Joshua. A victim of Treacher Collins syndrome, he was blind, going deaf, his face deformed beyond recognition. The fact that he was leading a relatively normal, healthy life was a miracle in itself. His mother, Carlotta Fortnight, had died in childbirth. His father, Eric Fortnight, Snow White, dead by Taylor’s hand. His sister, Charlotte Douglas, impregnated by Baldwin, slain by Ewan Copeland…
Joshua’s history was a bloody one. It was remarkable that he’d survived unscathed-he’d saved his father from his creation by shooting Copeland in the shoulder moments before Taylor and the SWAT team burst through their doors.
The whole saga was much too incestuous for Taylor’s liking.
She was already past Ellington Parkway. She whipped it around and took the exit for I-24 East, settled into the fast lane. She could make it to Joshua’s group home in less than ten minutes.
Joshua. The innocent, surrounded by tragedy. The lamb staked out for the lions.
He may have the answers she needed.
She was going to find Sam and see her safely away from the bastard. She refused to give up trying to save the innocents around her, to wallow in her failures. There would be plenty of time to mourn the ancillary players once she was finished.
The phone rang again. She might have to just turn the damn thing off so it wouldn’t be such a distraction.
She glanced at the screen-it was an international call. She recognized the number, with its +44 prefix. Memphis.
What the hell? Why would Memphis be calling now? Should she answer? She pressed the button and connected the call.
“How are you, Special Agent Highsmythe?”
His thick British upper-class boys’ school accent flew out of her cell-phone speakers tinged with relief. “I’m so glad I reached you. Are you all right?”
He actually did sound relieved, the fool.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Taylor, I saw the case on the news. You’re everywhere. It looks like things have gone to hell. Please tell me you are taking care of yourself.”
“Worry not, Viscount. I’m always careful.”
“I’ve seen you in action, remember. Careful isn’t what I’d deem an appropriate term for you. You’re as dangerous as a courting lion.”
She couldn’t help herself, she laughed. He’d always had that ability, at least. Even when she was infuriated with him, he could turn her mood upside down.
“Seriously, I’m all good. What can I do for you?”
“I was worried,” he said simply.
He was quiet then, and she felt that strange guilt that always washed over her when Memphis revealed his true feelings about her. Memphis had formed an attachment to Taylor, and when he’d been selected to work at Quantico as the liaison between New Scotland Yard and the FBI on counterterrorism, she’d been terribly worried he wouldn’t let things lie. But Memphis had kept his distance, and behaved himself. For the most part. Baldwin didn’t know that Memphis called her, and that sometimes, when she wanted a laugh, she answered the phone.
God knew she needed something cheerful now, but this wasn’t the time.
“I’m fine, really. But I have to go. I’m tracking down a lead and I’ve just arrived.”
“Be careful then, Taylor. You and your chap need to come over to England sometime. I’ll show you around.”
“I thought you were in Quantico?”
“Back on the Queen’s soil now. The colonies no longer needed my expertise.”
He didn’t sound bitter, but Taylor couldn’t help but wonder if Baldwin had seen to that. He was wildly jealous of Memphis, and having him underfoot in Quantico was probably too much of an annoyance, even for a man with Job-like patience.
“I’m sorry about that. I know you were enjoying yourself.”
“Yes, well. One can’t have everything one wants, isn’t that right?”
And boom, he crossed right on over the line. Typical of him, he could ride the edge for only so long. He was trouble, with a capital T, and Taylor knew it.
“I’ll talk to you later, Memphis. Have a good night.”
She hung up the phone and forced Memphis, and Baldwin, from her mind. She must focus on Nashville.
Fifty
B aldwin had been using the Nashville field office for his day-to-day needs for a couple of years. Its biggest advantage was its proximity to downtown, and to Taylor. Morning traffic into town from the east side was usually terrible, and today was no exception. He took advantage of the crawl to call Garrett back.
“It’s about time you rang. Don’t your minions give you messages anymore?”
“I have no minions. Just loyal, hardworking souls who would never take the chance of contacting me while I’m on suspension.”
“Yeah, right. Tell Salt I believe that.”
“Things are going to hell, Garrett. Taylor’s bodyguards just killed the Zodiac copycat at Sam’s office. Sam is missing. Our best lead is dead. Everything is falling to pieces.”
“I know that. Which is why I needed to talk to you. I’ve spoken with the director. We’re reactivating you and rescinding your suspension. There’s too much happening out there to have our best player on the bench. Try to stay away from the media, but get a handle on these copycat killers and wrap this case. Where are you with things?”
It was about time.
“I’ve been working the angle with Ewan Copeland, trying to figure out who he is and where he’s from. He’s been working at Forensic Medical as a death investigator named Barclay Iles. We nailed his sister-she’s the shooter from North Carolina. She’s from Raleigh, North Carolina-the SBI are on that part of the case. Her name is Ruth Anderson, and she’s on the run. Copeland can’t be far behind her-he sent Taylor a CD with the license plates of the copycats. He blew their cover on purpose. It was probably just another part of the game, or he got bored. Who the hell knows. And the true-crime blogger is dead.”
“I heard. Salt says they have one of the other copycats in custody. I want you to talk to him face-to- face.”
“He’s in Knoxville, Garrett. I need to stay here. The game in is Nashville.”
“The pawn of the game is in Knoxville. You need to get up there.”
“But-”
“Baldwin, your return is conditional. The director feels the media attention to the case warrants finding out why three men decided to start pretending to be famous serial killers. We have too many dead, all over the country, and two more killers in the wind. This fool has had direct contact with the Pretender. The director wants answers, and results, and he thinks the key to the case lies in Knoxville. So get up there. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make plans to get to Knoxville right away.”
“Let me know what you find out. And no cameras, you hear me?”
