Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (54 page)

His voice rose, the ecstasy of the moment driving him. “But I am the fifth angel. And I call upon my brothers to unleash the winds of wrath upon us. Blow away the sins of our people, take those undeserving of my love. Ruin the nonbelievers, allow my vision to caress those worthy of my divinity.”

In answer, the wind blew harder, and he knew he was blessed.

Sixteen

The rain was coming down hard by the time Taylor rolled into headquarters. She was fervently hoping the captain had a plan.

The squad room was unnaturally quiet, so Taylor wandered out into the hall, looking for he people. Lincoln was walking toward her with a pot of coffee, gesturing to the conference room. She followed him in to find Price, Fitz, and Dan Franklin sitting around the table. Marcus had pulled out a white board; a thick black line drawn down the middle separated it into two columns. She’d have to hold off telling them about the possible herbs Sam had collected from Jordan Blake’s body. She didn’t want Dan Franklin to have the information until they were ready to use it.

One of her quick-thinking detectives had scrounged up a picture of Jordan Blake. She hung on one side, and a picture of Shelby Kincaid was taped to the other side. It was the first real look she’d gotten at Jordan. There was absolutely no comparison to the ruined body they’d found in the river.

While Shelby was pretty in an unassuming way, more cute than beautiful, Jordan Blake was stunning. Take-your-breath-away, movie-star, attention-getting gorgeous. How in the world a girl like that could have disappeared unnoticed was a real mystery.

Fitz shot her a smile and Price nodded a hello.

“You guys have been busy.”

“Hi, Taylor. Grab a chair. We’re going through our next steps and putting together all the info we’ve got so far. We’re short on Jordan, obviously. You and Marcus are going to Vandy when we finish and dig everything up on her you can find.”

Price was smooth and in control, just the opposite of how Taylor was feeling inside. “In the meantime, Lincoln is looking for the girl’s family. There was none listed on her print card, so he’s called over to Vandy to get her personal information.”

“If they give you crap, let me know. They can get prickly about releasing student information without a court order.”

“I went the back route,” Lincoln said.

On cue, the phone on the table rang. Lincoln checked the caller ID, then picked it up. “Lincoln Ross.”

He hadn’t answered with the standard “Homicide.” That must be the people from Vandy. Taylor was glad to see things were being handled so delicately. He jotted down a few notes and thanked the person on the other end of the line warmly. Taylor raised a brow at him. Wondered who he had called in the favor from.

Lincoln had the decency to blush. “Old friend,” he muttered.

“So what’s the deal?” Price obviously wasn’t in the mood to play “tease the detective” at the moment.

“Jordan is from Houston. I’m going to go call the chaplain, see if he can start working his magic to get her parents notified.” He headed back into the warren to make the call.

Price continued on. “Taylor, what did Sam have to say?”

“Her sense is we may have the same killer. On the surface, it looks like two totally different suspects. Jordan had been raped over a period of time and stabbed five times, two that caught her in the heart and killed her pretty quickly. But Sam saw the same liver necrosis as Shelby, the indicator of possible poisoning. She’s sent everything to Simon Loughley with an emergency push. One little snag. Jordan was six weeks pregnant. We could have a set of coincidental deaths here, two different men entirely.”

“Or we could have one man who’s ridding himself of dead weight.” Price stroked his mustache. “I don’t want any talk outside this room about serial killers, series killers or mass murderers on the loose with a hard on for Vandy coeds. Dan, we need a press conference. We’ll need a very succinct and brief statement for the late news. I’m talking bare bones here. And I want Taylor to be there with you to take a few questions.”

Both Franklin and Taylor opened their mouths to protest. Price held up his hands. “We’ve had quite enough controversy in this shop, and enough media attention to last a lifetime. Putting Taylor on camera will show we’re back to normal. She is in charge of investigating these homicides, and I want a female face on the case. It will make the coeds listen. And it will help after yesterday morning’s little snafu.”

Taylor closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes at Price. He simply smiled.   

“Now, Taylor, get a subpoena for Jordan Blake’s records, and do it fast. I want you and Marcus to go back to Vandy and check things out. Be a little discreet. This is eventually going to get out, and I don’t want it to look like we’ve stepped on anyone’s toes. Fitz, I’m pulling you back in full time. You head over to Private Match and sit on Loughley until he comes up with the results.”

Fitz shrugged. “It’s not going to happen tonight, Price. It takes time to run all those little tests.”

“I don’t care how long it takes. Just go over and help him out. Y’all are dismissed. Dan, stay behind, we’ll work on the statement. You can call Taylor later with the time she needs to show up.”

They stood, and Fitz said, “Taylor, can I have a second?”

“Sure. I need to check on Lincoln anyway.” They left the room, Price barking instructions to Dan Franklin in the background.

Lincoln was hanging up the phone when they walked in. “Here’s something interesting for you. The chaplain called his counterpart in Houston, who knows Jordan’s family. They ran out to the house—apparently the parents don’t live far from their HQ. Jordan’s parents have been in Europe for the past month. They’ve got another month planned, and their maid didn’t know how to reach them. She said the dad calls into his office every once in a while, so we called over there to have him call as soon as he gets a message. The maid gave them the number of a sister that lives in Washington, DC. They’re trying to get in touch with her, see if she can reach the parents.” He shook his head. “Some family. No one seems to talk to anyone else.”

“Very sad. Keep after them, Lincoln. If we’re having a press conference tonight, I’d like to be able to use Jordan’s name. Fitz, let’s go in Price’s office.”

They went in and Fitz closed the door. She saw the look of concern and steeled herself.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Of course I am.”

“Hey, little girl, this is me you’re talking to. Marcus told me about your panic attack over at Vandy.”

She felt her chest tighten. “Great, now he’s tattling on me?”

“No, no, no, he didn’t know what happened, exactly, only said he thought you were feeling sick. Lucky for you, you do look like you’re coming down with a cold. That’s what I told him. I’m the one who put it together.”

“Why does everyone think I have a cold?” she laughed. “I feel fine.”

“You don’t look like you feel fine. You look stressed and strung out and ill. What’s up? Are you worried about the grand jury?”

“Fitz, honey, I love you to death, but I’m fine. I just got a little hot and stopped to catch my breath. Maybe I am catching something. So stop worrying about me. We’ve got two very dead girls and a city that’s going to go into panic mode when they hear the connection. More important things, you know? Sam may have gotten some herbs off Jordan Blake’s body. Tell Price and Lincoln for me, okay?”

Fitz nodded but still looked doubtful. He knew about the dreams. He knew about the panic attacks. He knew she’d been riding the edge. He had tried to talk her into taking some time off after the shooting. She’d bullied her way back and hadn’t stopped. She was finally starting to show some cracks.

“You got me worried, little girl.”

“Fitz, I’m fine, I swear. I haven’t been sleeping, that’s all. We solve this case, I get my testimony over with, and I’ll take a few days off. Promise. But right now I have to scoop up the puppy and go over to Vandy. Okay?”

He leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. Squeezed, then got up and left without saying another word.

Taylor took a deep breath.
Shit.
If Marcus was noticing she wasn’t one hundred percent right, the others were too. She needed to get herself in check, and fast.

David Martin just wouldn’t let her go, the bastard.

Seventeen

Taylor and Marcus took the familiar route to Vandy’s administrative offices. Chief Graber was nowhere in sight. Taylor didn’t complain. They caught a plump, grandmotherly woman holding a clear plastic umbrella just as she was locking the doors to leave.

“Excuse me. I’m Lieutenant Jackson and this is Detective Wade—”

“Detective Wade. I remember seeing you yesterday. I’m Gladys Thorton.” She gave Marcus a sweet, inviting smile. He coughed and looked at the ground. “You were here about poor little Shelby Kincaid. I saw you talking to Chief Graber right after he came and got the Kincaid girl’s records. I heard more about it on the news. Poor little lamb.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is a shame. We need a favor, though. Would you mind letting us in and looking up another record for us? I promise it won’t take long.”

“Well, I’ve got my book club in an hour. Have you ever read
Middlesex
? I just couldn’t seem to get through it. I’m embarrassed really, I’m sure they’re all going to think I’m some sort of dummy, but it just didn’t capture my interest. These big books…”

Taylor smiled at Marcus and let the woman prattle, watching her unlock the doors. She led them into the office. Maybe they’d gotten lucky and she’d be too distracted to question their motive in pulling another record. News of Jordan Blake’s death wasn’t out yet; they needed to be delicate.

“Whose record did you say you wanted?”

Marcus finally spoke. “Uh, we didn’t. But we need Jordan Blake’s file.”

Gladys stopped. “Jordan Blake,” she said disapprovingly. “And you do have a court order for the records?”

Marcus waved the blue-backed paper in front of her.

“You’re supposed to go give that to the counsel’s office first, but since Chief Graber took responsibility for the last one, I’m sure he’ll do the same for this. He knows you’re here?”

Taylor shifted uncomfortably and told a tiny white lie. “Um, no, ma’am. I wasn’t able to reach him before we got here. He may have gone home for the day.”

Gladys clucked, “That poor man. His leg pains him something awful. You just leave the court order with me, and I’ll make sure it’s all taken care of. Jordan Blake. My, oh my. Did she kill the Kincaid girl?”

Taylor froze. “Why would you say that, ma’am?”

Gladys bumbled around the office like a bee in search of honey, smiling over her shoulder at Marcus all the while. “Oh, the Blake girl, she’s a bad apple, if you ask me.”

Bingo
, Taylor thought. Gossip was as good as anything right now. Taylor leaned in confidentially to give the woman more comfort to spill the beans. “She is? Can you tell me why, Gladys?”

“Well.” She directed her scandal laden voice at Marcus. “Jordan’s been trouble since day one. Always getting herself in scrapes. Drunk driving, wild parties, missing classes. She’s on academic probation again this semester. If I were the Dean, I would have kicked her out long ago.”

“Why hasn’t he?”

“Why, because she’s a Blake, dear. Jordan is Gregory Blake’s daughter.”

Marcus looked blank, but Taylor suddenly understood. She mentally kicked herself for not putting it together sooner. The Blake family was one of the largest benefactors to Vanderbilt. Gregory Blake was an incredibly successful oilman from Texas who had attended Vanderbilt for undergrad and law. He’d made a lot of money and wanted to give it back. He’d done his best to get his name on Vandy’s new library, but the honor had gone to Alexander Heard and his wife, Jean. Heard was the ex-chancellor of the University and had much more clout than the oilman from Texas.

But it made sense now. Out of the country, no contact with their wild child, just throwing money at the situation rather than dealing with it. It was going to take some tightrope walking to keep this from becoming a huge mess.

Taylor grabbed Marcus’s hand to keep him from talking any further. Gladys had led them into the records room by this time and was rifling through the cabinet marked
B – 2006
. Graduates scheduled to receive their wings in 2006. Girls and boys ready to take on the world, unknowing and untried. Innocent. Taylor felt the old familiar worthlessness creeping up, but shut it away firmly.

Gladys was still talking. “So did that girl get into trouble again? I can see her getting involved with the wrong crowd, one that could hurt the Kincaid girl. I swear, one of these times she’s going to get herself in some real trouble. Such a shame too, because she’s a smart girl. If she just applied herself…here’s the file.” She looked at her watch. “Oh my, I really do have to lock up and get to my book club. The rain makes the traffic so awful. Why don’t you just take it with you? You can bring it back in the morning. Leave the subpoena on my desk. I’ll deal with it tomorrow, too.”

As she spoke, she ushered them out the door, locking it behind them. “See you in the morning.” She gave Marcus another smile and hurried off, humming quietly to herself.

Marcus was still speechless. Taylor started laughing, then found she couldn’t stop. The fit of hysteria was catching, and they ended up sitting on the steps of the building, trying to catch their breath. The rain had calmed to a heavy mist, and the overhang of the ornate edifice gave them enough shelter. Taking advantage of the dry spot, Taylor groped in her pocket and came up with a wrinkled pack of Camel Lights. She offered one to Marcus, who accepted sheepishly. “You’re a bad influence.”

“If the whole squad hadn’t decided to quit smoking at once, it would be a lot easier to cheat.”

They lit up, sat companionably for a few moments, smoking, not speaking, lost in their own theories about Jordan Blake. Without warning Taylor burst out laughing again. She stood and started to the car, giggling as Marcus walked slowly after her, impervious to the rain.