14 BOOK 2 (13 page)

“She left. Grabbed one of my books off the shelf and took off in a huff. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry. I should have called the police when she didn’t come home. I just figured she was pissed off, decided to stay over at Skip’s or something.”

Taylor’s radar went off. “Skip?”

Daphne rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the air simultaneously. “He’s this guy who’s been mooning around after her since she moved to town. She went on a couple of dates with him back in the summer, but they’re just friends. He bugs her.”

“Do you know how to get a hold of him, Daphne?”

She turned sharply, staring at Taylor. “You think Skip did this?”

“I want to talk to him, that’s all. Hopefully, there’s nothing wrong. Your roommate just spent the night elsewhere. But if you have a way I can contact him, that would be very helpful.”

Daphne bent her head, tears dripping off her sharp chin.

“Jane has his number in her cell phone. I don’t know it.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Don’t cry. We’ll figure it out.”

Taylor pulled into a parking spot in the lot behind headquarters. They got out of the truck. Taylor marched the girl around the side of the building, up the back stairwell and through the door. It was stiflingly warm in the hallway, and barely better in the homicide offices.

Taylor got the weepy Daphne seated in her office, then made a quick run to the Ladies’. After splashing her face with water and brushing out her hair, she felt a little more human. She realized she hadn’t thought of the wedding for hours, and smiled.

Her boots made a clopping noise on the linoleum, a singsong beat that got stuck in her head, ca-chun, ca-chun. Snapping her fingers in time, she stepped into the homicide office and ran into a wall.

A female wall, to be exact. Taylor stumbled back in surprise. The doorway was blocked by a tall redheaded woman balanced with an arm slung across the opening, as if she knew whoever wanted into the room would have to get through her first.

The blow moved the redhead forward three or four inches. She whipped around with a sneer, then saw who was trying to get in the room. The sneer morphed into a semblance of a smile.

“You must be Taylor Jackson. I’m Dr. Charlotte Douglas, FBI.” Charlotte stuck out a hand and Taylor accepted it. They eyed each other coolly. Charlotte made no move to get out of Taylor’s way. Taylor dropped her hand and cleared her throat; Charlotte continued to appraise her frankly.

“Excuse me,” she said finally.

“Oh, sorry, silly me. Whatever was I thinking? I didn’t mean to be in your way, Lieutenant.” 

She didn’t move. There was the slightest bit of mockery in Charlotte’s tone, and Taylor narrowed her eyes in response. A deep voice grumbled past Charlotte’s body check.

“Knock it off, Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s eyes flashed and she stepped out of the doorway just far enough for Taylor to stride through, shooting daggers at Baldwin, who was sitting at the desk just outside her office. He jumped to his feet, reached to stop Taylor, but she was past him in an instant. At the threshold to her office, she stopped and turned.

“Miss Douglas, it’s—”

“Doctor.” The cold, imperious tone was meant to intimidate, but all it did was annoy Taylor further.

“Fine. Dr. Douglas. I’ll be with you shortly. I’ve had a development that I need to tend to immediately. Please, make yourself at home.”

She turned to Baldwin. “Could I see you for a moment?”

She heard Charlotte giggle as Baldwin stepped into the office and shut the door behind them. Baldwin started to talk, but Taylor cut him off.

“I don’t have time for foreplay right now. I assume you just got here?”

“Two minutes ago, and it’s already been a long half hour since I picked her up. The sooner we can get her presentation, the sooner we can get her out of town.” He ran a hand wearily through his hair, making the ends stand up like porcupine quills.

“Okay. We have a development.” There was a quiet whimper from Taylor’s chair, and she waved a hand at the girl. “This is Daphne Beauchamp. Her roommate, Jane Macias, has gone missing, and she fits our profile.”

Daphne had become a small, unkempt girl in the few moments that Taylor had known her. Sitting at Taylor’s desk, she exuded none of the edgy savoir faire she’d given off at the paper.

“Daphne, this is Dr. John Baldwin. He’s a profiler with the FBI. He’s working with us on the Snow White cases. I’d like him to hear a little about Jane. Could you share some of what you’ve already told me?”

Daphne sat up a little straighter, visibly pulling herself together. “Sure, of course. I mean, I don’t know how much to tell. Jane’s a great girl. Really smart, going places, you know? She wants to be an investigative journalist, the oldschool, hard-nose type. Wants to bring down administrations and change the course of humanity.”

Taylor watched the girl speak. “Those are pretty tall orders. Does she have what it takes?”

“Yes, she does. She’s brilliant, can write like the wind. I’d…well, I admire her. She’s got what it takes to make something in this industry. Went to the J School at Columbia, that’s as good as it gets. Wrote for the paper there, had some freelance jobs for the
Times
…she’s a sharp cookie.” Daphne fiddled with a pencil she found on Taylor’s desk,
tappity, tappity, tap.

“So why is she working here? If she was that talented, couldn’t she get hired onto one of the big papers?”

“No, no, that was her choice. She decided to take a year and get out of New York, see if it didn’t broaden her horizons. She chose Nashville because she’s got some god-awful crush on John Siegenthaler.”
Tappity, tappity,
tap.

“Siegenthaler Senior? Isn’t he a little old for her tastes?” Taylor reached over the desk and took the pencil. Daphne stared at her for a moment, then broke into the first smile Taylor had seen from the girl.

“No, no, not in a sexual way. His mind. She finds him intellectually stimulating, wanted to walk in his footsteps for a bit. Of course, the
Tennessean
isn’t the investigative powerhouse it used to be, we all know that.”

Taylor shot Baldwin a look, put the pencil back in its holder. He took the hint, continued with the questions. 

“Jane is from New York?”

“Yes. She’s such a city girl, too. Really kind of funny, the way she reacts to all the Southernisms around here. She’s got this nasally accent, not a hard, brassy one, just definitely uptown. When she orders food she gets all kinds of looks.”

Ah, good, Taylor thought. Something like that would make her stand out, and someone might remember when they saw her last.

“Where would she have gone last night, Daphne? You said she wanted to get out of the house because your boyfriend was over. Did she usually leave when he stopped by?”

“Yeah. She thinks Zac is some kind of idiot because he plays football. He isn’t, but she just turns up her nose. She’s like that—has the literati attitude. Like just because she can manipulate words, she’s smarter than everyone. She was actually having kind of a difficult time here. She pissed off a few people at the paper with her attitude. I mean, yeah, she’s brilliant, but sometimes you don’t need everyone in the room to know just how brilliant you are.”

Taylor leaned back against the door and crossed her arms. “Who did she piss off?”

Daphne laughed softly.

“Who didn’t she piss off? She just grates some people the wrong way—it’s the Yankee in her. She doesn’t see the need for subtlety that often, and you know how it is here. People bristle when you put on airs. Not that she was so bad, but any time you get a young, pretty little thing mouthing off, it’s going to cause problems.”

“Any idea where she might have headed when she left the house last night?”

“No. I mean, she’d go to Starbucks sometimes, hang out there with her laptop. But she left it at home last night, just took some book and jammed, obviously pissed at me. I wasn’t really worried about it, that’s just how she gets sometimes. Likes to have a quiet environment, and Zac’s a little rowdy sometimes. Especially during the season, he can get temperamental. But since the Titans put him on injured reserve, he’s been kinda down. We were planning on having a couple of drinks and hanging out, watch a movie or something. Nothing terribly loud. She didn’t really have to go. I think she was just in a mood.”

“She a big drinker?”

“Naw, not too bad. She’ll have a few beers at a bar, or some wine, but she’s not into the hard stuff. She’s a little goody-goody like that. Total lightweight.”

“Does she talk to home often?”

Daphne shook her head. “Not that I know of. She isn’t close to her family, she did tell me that. I think her dad is dead. Jane has only ever talked about him in the past tense. She had a picture of him in her room a while ago, but I haven’t seen it lately. Her mom must have remarried—she left a message for Jane once and her last name was different. It’s not a topic she’s ever been open about, you know? I don’t think we’ve ever gone in-depth about her background.”

“That’s a little strange for roommates, isn’t it?”

“Naw. We met through Craig’s List. I needed a roommate fast, so we didn’t know each other at all when she moved in. We’ve only been in that apartment since September, and we can go days without seeing each other. We don’t hang out or anything. Just aren’t all that close.”

“Okay, Daphne. I’m going to have a uniform take you back to your apartment. After you gather some things for me, he can take you back to work if you’d like. I’d like you to give the officer her date book, if you can find it, and any pictures you might have. You said her laptop was still there? Give that to him, too.”

“It’s password protected. You’ll never get in.”

Taylor smiled at her. “We’re actually pretty good with that kind of stuff, Daphne.”

“Jane wouldn’t like that, though. She’s really proprietary about her stuff.”

“You let us deal with that, okay? We’ll take full responsibility. If you hear anything from her, I want you to call me, okay? I’m sure this is all going to work out.”

“No, it won’t. This creep, he does bad things to women. He doesn’t let them go once he has them.” She teared up, and Taylor laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re making assumptions. You spend all day with journalists, you know better. Let us look into this. Everything is going to be fine.”

I hope,
Taylor thought.
I hope.
Taylor arranged for the girl to be taken home, watching Baldwin stalk her office. Two steps, turn, two steps, turn. There wasn’t enough room to pace; he looked more like a caged circus lion in a too-small pen.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, a lopsided smile on his face. “What isn’t wrong?”

“Getting a bit melodramatic, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on, Taylor. This is supposed to be a great week, and here we are, chasing another madman. We’ve got the queen bitch out there waiting to drop some sort of bombshell, a possible missing person, and I just want to get on a plane Sunday morning and spend three weeks drinking wine, eating carbonara and fucking you silly.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.”

He stopped and turned to her. “You ready to face the ice princess?”

“Baldwin, Charlotte Douglas doesn’t scare me, ‘doctor’ or not. I can handle myself, thank you very much. Let’s get it over with.”

As she walked to the door and opened it, she heard Baldwin mutter, “Nothing scares you.”

Man, she wished that were the truth.

Charlotte Douglas was right where Taylor had left her fifteen minutes earlier, batting her eyelashes at Marcus and Fitz. Lincoln had retreated to his desk, and Taylor gave him mental brownie points for not falling for the act. She hated women like Charlotte, women who thought the only power they had resided between their legs. Taylor knew where her power was—between her ears and strapped to her hip. She’d never felt simpering a necessity to elicit a response from the opposite sex.

Taylor cleared her throat, and Charlotte stopped midsentence and turned. Taylor looked her up and down—an expensive woman. Finely tailored tweed jacket, a pencil skirt, brown calfskin boots—the outfit probably cost more than Taylor’s truck payment. Her auburn hair was swept into a chignon, her makeup artfully applied. Yep, this was one high-maintenance chick. Beautiful, if you liked the cold, pale look. Taylor didn’t.

“Dr. Douglas, we can go into the conference room for your presentation now.”

Charlotte’s eyes were bright. “He took another one?”

“We have nothing to indicate that, Dr. Douglas. Now, if we could just get to your presentation, I’d like to know what’s so exciting that you felt the need to fly down here to share it with us. After you.”

I’ll be damned if I’m going to discuss my case with you,
you bitch,
Taylor told her with her eyes.
Fuck you, too,
Charlotte’s empty gaze said back. Ah, detente.

Left with no choice, Charlotte tossed her head and walked out of the room. Taylor, Baldwin and the rest of the team followed her, a pied piper line of cops. They went the short distance to the conference room. A young woman was already there, cocoa-brown skin glowing in the glare from a PowerPoint slide. The presentation was ready to go.

Charlotte took a seat at the head of the table. “This is Dr. Pietra Dunmore. She’s the lead forensic investigator for this case and will be presenting her findings on the DNA samples you sent. Pietra, we’re ready for you now.”

Dismissive bitch, Taylor thought. She’d rather die than use that tone with a subordinate. But the woman didn’t seem to notice. Either that, or she didn’t care. The rest of the team took their seats. Taylor saw the tech slide her honey-brown eyes over Lincoln as he sat down, and Taylor could have sworn he blushed. Good grief, she’d have to pass out keys to the locker room for cold showers after these two women left.

“Excuse me, Charlotte.” Taylor went to the young tech, extended a hand. “I’m Taylor Jackson. Thank you for coming all this way to present your findings. We’re grateful for your time.”

Taylor couldn’t read the thoughts behind those spectacular chocolate eyes, but Pietra nodded as she shook Taylor’s hand. Okay, good. Maybe there was something to be gained from this dog-and-pony show after all.