Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (68 page)

“Ah. Will do. Thanks for everything, Lincoln. You’ve been a lifesaver. Bye.”

She hung up and turned back to Sam, expecting a chastising or brutal tease. Instead, Sam was standing in front of the radiograph view box, shaking her head.

“I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“The good news.”

“The good news is this isn’t Jill Gates.”

Taylor stood frozen, immobilized by the finding. “You’re sure?”

“No doubt about it. These dentals aren’t even close.”

“What’s the bad news?”

Sam turned to her friend, her mouth a grim line slashing her face. “The bad news is, this is not Jill Gates.”

She turned back to the view box. “Who are you, sweetheart?”

She and Taylor stared longingly at the radiographs as if the teeth would come to life and spell out the name of their owner. Taylor turned away and sat heavily on a hard backed chair, leaning her arms on a built in desk. As she put her head down, her cell rang.

“Yeah? Hey, Fitz. Okay, route it through.” She turned to Sam. “Call came in for me, some guy wants to talk to me and me alone. Won’t give his name. Oh, hello.” She listened to the other end of the phone, her eyes growing wide. “Can you…Damn, he hung up.”

“What the hell was that?”

“An anonymous call from someone who claims to have done a pregnancy test on Jill Gates. Six months ago.”

“Wait a minute. Jill Gates is pregnant?” Sam’s astonishment was catching.

Taylor nodded. “According to this guy, she was six months ago. He wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“Taylor, if it’s true, and she didn’t abort or miscarry, Gates could be at least seven months pregnant, maybe more. With all the emphasis on babies with this freak, I think you may have a bigger problem.”

“What’s that, Sam? Spit it out?”

“At thirty-four weeks, that baby can live on its own. Sometimes earlier, if they’re lucky. Assuming all’s gone well, she’s twenty-eight weeks at a minimum, and could be as much as thirty-two, depending on how far along she was when she had the pregnancy test.”

Realization of what Sam was trying to tell her finally sunk in. Taylor flipped open her phone and called back to Price’s office. No one picked up the phone. She hung up and dialed Baldwin’s cell. The voicemail came on almost immediately, and she left him a message that felt as desperate as it sounded.

“This body isn’t Jill Gates. She might still be alive, Baldwin. I think our killer is after her baby.”

Forty-Nine

Baldwin had been sitting in Price’s office for half an hour. He knew exactly what this conversation was going to be about and just wanted to get it over with. Yes, he was fine. Yes, he was interested in the case. No, he didn’t have any answers yet, only overblown theories.

His mind was chewing the tidbit of information Taylor had just passed along. The fact that the killer wasn’t the father of the child was of great importance to him. Though he didn’t know the motive behind Shelby’s killing, it was entirely possibly that Jordan had been killed
because
of the pregnancy. It had been known to happen: a man being inordinately jealous of a woman who had cheated. The theory played into several aspects of her murder as well; Sam had told him that some of the stab wounds were postmortem. Baldwin could see the scenario easily. He gets mad, stabs her in the chest, kills her, then in a fit of rage goes out of control and thrusts the knife into her flesh viciously, punishing her over and over again. But why the aconite? And the herbs? Why such a huge difference between the murders of Jordan and Shelby? And, most importantly, where was Jill Gates, and who was the woman at the morgue?

“You’re losing your touch, man.” He looked around sheepishly to make sure no one had heard him, but the offices were deserted.

It was time for him to start making some leaps, maybe try to get a little faith in himself back. He pulled out his notebook and started trying to tie things together. He muttered aloud as he wrote.

“Gotta assume this is the same killer. There’s no way all of them are coincidences. Okay. So we have the same guy. He kills Jordan because she got pregnant with someone else’s child. It was definitely an intentional murder. But Shelby, maybe she was an accident. If he was having an affair with both of them, maybe Shelby found out about Jordan and confronted him, told him Jordan’s baby wasn’t his. Is he having an affair with Jill, too? Is this a close knit group, and jealousy has crept in, or is this guy just a serial rapist who was close to being caught and had to shut the girls up?

“There’s a thought. Rapists do escalate; he could have graduated to murder. Shelby’s positioning could explain that, maybe she was the first one he murdered and he felt so badly about it that he tried to treat her with respect. But no, it looked like Jordan was killed first, and there was no respect there. Why poison Jordan if he was going to stab her? Did she fight back? Was he trying to give her the easy—yeah ha, easy—death that Shelby was given and she fought him? That could be…

“Step away from that for now. The victims at the church. What in the hell was that about? He kills a priest and another woman, using fire. The priest is easy to explain away, he could have just gotten in the way. But why take her to a church to kill her? We’ve got the church, the river, and the Parthenon. Church, river, Parthenon. God, this just doesn’t make any sense.

“What’s the most logical place to find this guy? All the girls are students at Vandy. Assuming the fire victim is as well, we’re up to four students, and a possible priest of opportunity. Gotta be someone connected to Vandy. And what is he trying to tell us? River, Parthenon, church. Catholic Church. Poison, stabbing, fire. Trial by fire? Cleansing by fire? Damn it, this is crazy.”

He slapped the notebook down on Price’s desk. There was something he wasn’t getting. The locations could be the key; granted, the murders were incredibly diverse, but if the guy was trying to send a message, he certainly had picked the right places. And there was something about Jordan’s pregnancy that was nagging at him. He stood up and stretched. He knew from experience brainstorming, word association, throwing a jumble of thoughts together often forced an answer later on. He was starting to get some ideas, but he needed to talk them out, run through them aloud with another person. Preferably Taylor. He sensed she was moving along the same lines as he was. He liked seeing how her mind worked.

Price walked back while he was mulling it over. He came around to his side of the desk and sat down heavily. As he did, the phone rang. He stared at it a moment, as if he really didn’t want to pick it up.

“I could get that for you, if you’d like. Let them know you’re not here?”

Price gave him a smile.

“A magnanimous gesture, but that’s okay, I’ll get it. I’m just sick of putting out fires.” He picked up the receiver. “Price.”

Baldwin watched him listen to the person on the other line, wondering at the emotions that passed across his face. Good news or bad? Baldwin couldn’t tell.

Price sighed and spoke again. “Yes, Julia, I can reach her. One hour? Okay. Bye.”

Holding up his finger in a signal to wait, he hit the speakerphone and dialed Taylor’s cell phone. She answered immediately.

“I was trying to call you.”

“Good. Julia Page just called. The grand jury wants you in an hour.”

Taylor let out a huge groan. “No, no, no, not right now. Please tell me you’re kidding. Can’t you get me out of it?”

Price chuckled. “You know I can’t. Just get it over with. We’ll mark you off the rest of the day. Give us a call when you’re back on the grid.”

The annoyance in her voice was barely concealed. “Damn it. Fine. I’ll let you know when I get out. But I have other news for you. The remains from the church weren’t Jill Gates.”

Price and Baldwin shared a look. The relief was palpable, yet tempered with concern. Price jumped back in first. “I take it you don’t have an ID for us?”

“No, I don’t. But we may have a much bigger problem. I got an anonymous phone call a little while ago. Jill Gates is pregnant. Assuming she’s still alive, very pregnant. According to Sam, she’s far enough along that if she had the baby now, it might survive without her.”

Price sat slowly, staring at Baldwin while Taylor continued.

“But I have to go testify in front of the grand jury instead of handling that little detail. I’ll leave that up to you guys. My suggestion would be to get Baldwin working the pregnancy angle. He might have an idea of what this guy is up to. He didn’t answer his phone when I called a few minutes ago.”

“I’m right here, Taylor. Sorry, I must have turned off the ringer accidentally.”

“Okay then. You guys have a fun afternoon. I’m outta here.” She hung up before they could wish her luck.

Price hung up and stared at Baldwin, who didn’t look terribly surprised by the news Taylor had just sprung on them. “Who was in that confessional?”

Baldwin sighed at the rhetorical question. “I don’t know. This is such a departure from the earlier killings, it is possible that it’s not related.”

“You don’t think that’s the case though, do you?” Price asked.

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. This is all connected somehow, but I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s not common, but killers do shift their patterns, especially when they’re trying to communicate. I think there’s a message in this church burning, and the victims were doubtless chosen for a specific purpose. I’m not sure what it is, though. And now, with Jill Gates having a late stage pregnancy combined with Jordan Blake’s pregnancy…Have there been any more missing person’s reports?”

“Lincoln is our guy there. He’s outside, still working, though Taylor sent him home to sleep.” He went to the door, called Lincoln in.

“What’s up, Cap?”

“We just got off the phone with Taylor. The remains from the church aren’t Jill Gates. But we have to find out who this woman is. Do you have any other MP reports?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been resolved. The only outstanding one was from a former pro missing from Magdalene, but she turned up this morning floating in Old Hickory Lake.”

“Think you can do some trolling, see if there are any others out there?”

“Yeah. I think I need to expand out the area. I was already running state-wide. I’ll go over the entire Southeast, see if anything else pops up. Check ya later.” He turned to go, shoulders slumped with weariness.

Price leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on his desk, and gazed at Baldwin, saying nothing. Baldwin waited him out. He had no intention of volunteering anything more without a good, long think about things.

Price dropped his feet off from the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Fifty

Baldwin was too surprised by Price’s invitation to do anything but agree.

They made their way out of the building, across the courthouse parking lot and onto Second Avenue, his mind churning with possibilities. Price didn’t speak much as they walked, lost in his own thoughts. He stopped in front of a restaurant with a neon red sign in the window that read
SATCO
.  The San Antonio Taco Company was something of an establishment in Nashville. Their main restaurant was over by the Vanderbilt campus, servicing the students with beer and cheap food on the oversized deck. The small offshoot they were entering didn’t have the ambiance, but the food was still quick and delicious.

Price held the door for Baldwin. “Hope you like Mexican,” he said in a tone that told Baldwin he didn’t give a crap whether he liked Mexican or not. Lucky for him, he did.

The restaurant was set up like a cafeteria. They ordered tacos and enchiladas, retrieved their food and made their way to a private corner. The restaurant wasn’t full, so they had plenty of privacy.

Digging into their meals, they were silent for a moment. Price took a long drink of his soda and eyed Baldwin, finally giving the younger man a smile.

“So how are you finding our little operation? Anyone giving you any trouble? Taylor keeping you in the loop on everything?”

It wasn’t the beginning Baldwin expected, but he rolled with it. “Actually, everyone has been very gracious and helpful. Taylor especially.”

They stared each other down.
Ah-ha
, Baldwin thought. Maybe this wasn’t about him after all.

“Son, I was a little dubious about letting you in on this case. But your boss and I go way back. Way back. And when he asks me a favor, I’m quite likely to comply. That’s why I agreed to let you come on board and gave you the option of whether you could handle yourself enough to participate. You seem to be doing fine. But I’m wondering just how committed you are to this case. You know what I mean?”

Baldwin suppressed a grin. He felt sure Price was going to ask his intentions toward his Lieutenant, like an overprotective father. It hit him that everyone was a little overprotective of Taylor, though he couldn’t see any reason for them to be so concerned. Her anxiety attacks aside, the woman seemed to have steel fused in her backbone. He was debating how exactly to answer when Price continued, almost reflectively.

“The stuff that’s been happening around here is unusual, to say the least. We don’t have a lot of high profile cases, at least not this many in so short a period of time. I’ve been doing this for a long time, since before you were running around in short pants. I’m inclined to agree with you; my gut’s telling me these murders are related and that we’re dealing with one killer. You said you think he’s trying to send us a message. You’re the profiler on this case. Time to earn your pay.”

Exam time. Baldwin decided to go for it. He felt Price was asking for his opinion sincerely. Perhaps it was time to trust him and show his worth to the man.

“I’m going to think aloud here, ok? We aren’t dealing with a serial killer, not in the accepted sense of the word. This guy is on a spree: a very calculated, very organized spree. Each death has a meaning to him; each placement of the body is intentional. He hasn’t left any physical clues except the semen from Shelby Kincaid. And I think that was deliberate. It’s part of the message. Shelby had been raped, but placed at the Parthenon and shrouded in herbs, which strikes me as a loving gesture. Jordan Blake was pregnant. Now we find out Jill Gates is pregnant as well. There is a fatherhood theme going on here. One interpretation: he feels protective toward them, he wants to be a father figure. Or, he desperately wants to be a father.
The
father. Look at the church fire. He kills a ‘Father.’” He made the sign of quotations in the air with his fingers. “He places the bodies in a house of God, the
Father
of Christ. There are so many interpretations out of that alone that we could be puzzling it through for months.”