All the Pretty Girls

Fifty-Three

Taylor and Baldwin were seated on the back deck, drinking ice-cold beer from the bottle. Reese Connolly was being arraigned today.

The past week had gone by in a blur. Reese had made it to the hospital, and after several touch-and-go hours, the doctors had repaired the damage and declared that he would live. Taylor felt such immense satisfaction at the declaration. The bastard would pay for his crimes, would be brought to trial and judged. Reese’s instincts had been right, he was a national story, one his aunt would have been desperate to cover. As it was, in death Whitney Connolly had gained the fame and notoriety she’d always craved.

Quinn kept insisting Reese was so consumed with hatred and misguided loyalty that he wasn’t in his right mind when he committed the atrocious murders that paralyzed the Southeast for the summer. The D.A. had decided not to seek an indictment against her. She had hired the best criminal attorney in Nashville and was fervently seeking support for an insanity defense for her eldest son.

Baldwin had spent a long afternoon at Riverbend prison, visiting with Nathan Chase, trying to find if there were any missing pieces to fill in. Nathan happily admitted to his past crimes and showed genuine pride in his son’s accomplishments, as he’d referred to Reese’s murderous spree.

For his part, Reese was seeking sympathy from all quarters, doing his damnedest to make sure all involved knew he wasn’t culpable for his crimes. At the hospital, after his surgery, he had explained in detail what he had done. How he had shadowed Jake Buckley, watched him cuckold Quinn again and again. Had decided that Jake would be the perfect fall guy for the crimes.

Reese had admitted that he had started running out of time, had started killing the girls on the road instead of taking the time to get them back to their homes. Blood evidence had been found in a roadside rest stop just forty miles south of Roanoke. The blood matched Marni Fischer. Baldwin had been correct about Noelle Pazia’s asthma attack. She’d died in the trunk of the car, and his fury at finding her dead drove him to new lengths of horror with Ivy Clark.

There is no such thing as killing for the right reason. But in his mind, Reese was doing just that. He was reaching out in the only way he knew how, trying to get the approval and nurturing he thought he’d been denied for so long. Ironically, it was Quinn who met all those needs, something he never recognized.

His lawyer, a shrewd and experienced man, was making it quite clear to anyone that would listen that Baldwin had coerced a confession out of his client while the man was still under the influence of narcotic drugs from the surgery. He was making a play to get the whole case dropped on the technicality. It was turning into one of the most impressive three-ring circuses that Nashville had ever seen.

Baldwin was quiet, basking in the late-summer sun. The days were cooling, the evenings bringing a chill to the air. Fall would be here soon.

“Taylor,” he said softly. She looked at him, eyes smiling.

“I talked to Garrett this morning. Told him that I was resigning.”

Taylor turned to him, putting a hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not kidding. I want to strike out on my own, get away from the Bureau. Maybe start my own firm, consulting. You could come work with me.”

“I’m not ready to leave Metro, Baldwin, you know that.”

“Then you could confer with me on some of the consultancies. Regardless, it’s done. I’m mailing the papers in the morning. I want to be here, Taylor. With you.”

He stood and went to her, hands on her arms, head bent to touch her forehead.

“I’m tired of this life. Tired of watching these crimes, waiting for the next killer to surface. I want more. I want to be with you. Today, tomorrow. Forever. I want you to be my wife.” He took her left hand in his and she felt something hard slide down her fourth finger. She looked at her hand, astounded by the sparkling diamond.

Taylor was stunned. Not so much by the proposal, but by the emotion she was feeling. Wife. The word was so foreign to her. It wasn’t something she had really thought about, not seriously. She knew Baldwin loved her, and she him. But the idea of spending the rest of her life with him wasn’t something she’d let herself think about.

They faced such danger every day. Evil spread like a cancer through their lives, binding them to the darkness. Marriage seemed like such a hopeful proposition. Happiness wasn’t a luxury she’d thought she could afford.

“Baldwin, I…I don’t know what to say.”

The look on his face broke her heart. “I don’t mean that I’m saying no. I just hadn’t thought about it. Not seriously. I…Baldwin, I hate the thought of losing you. I’m scared that if we do get married, I might lose you.”

“Taylor, that’s crazy thinking. I’m not going anywhere. No one is going to come between us. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep us both safe.”

She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. Baldwin was standing back a few feet now, looking at her as if she might explode. The naked vulnerability on his face overwhelmed her. He took it as a sign that she was refusing, started to leave, to go into the house. Taylor caught his arms. She grasped his hand, brought it to her lips. The tears were coming now, trickling down her cheeks. She swiped a hand across her cheek, smiled through the haze that was clouding her eyes. She pulled him close, drawing him back down to her. She brushed his lips with hers.

“No, please don’t. Please, don’t go.”

She took a deep breath.

“Yes.”