14

Twenty-Two

C harlotte Douglas schemed as the Lear jet left the terminal building. As far as John Baldwin knew, it was flying her away from Nashville.

The sheer audacity of Baldwin, to push her away with so little regard for her feelings. Who was he to say what she was to do with her life? He’d decided she should leave Nashville. He’d decided she would no longer be of use in capturing the Snow White Killer. He’d pushed her away like she was a whore. Well, she wouldn’t be treated like that, not by him, not by anyone.

He’d had a field agent escort her to the plane. Five minutes after her friend had left, an earnest young man with jutting ears and a solemn smile knocked on her door. After identifying himself as an agent with the Nashville field office, he’d taken her suitcases and practically thrown her out of the hotel room.

She wouldn’t stand for this kind of treatment. Who did these people think they were? They had no idea who they were dealing with.

She left the terminal in a cab and made her way back downtown. Checking back into the same hotel, she dropped her bags in the room and placed a phone call. She was lonely. She decided to go to the house for the evening instead of hanging at the hotel. A night in her old room, a meal with her father, a thrill with her lover-all would serve to get her back on track. She would come back to the hotel tomorrow, maintain the slim veneer of legitimacy she’d worked hard to conceive.

They weren’t finished. She would have her vengeance.