The Cold Room

Forty-Six

Once in their room, she took advantage of the small distance between them and stole away to the bathroom, took a shower, taking her time. Too much had happened in the past few days. Too many emotions stirred up. Baldwin couldn’t leave the BAU, especially for her. It wasn’t right.

She toweled off, brushed her wet hair out. Now that it was over, she finally allowed herself to think about the horror of the brothers’ actions. What the victims had gone through at their hands. How they’d slowly wasted away, their organs shutting down, the pain dulling with the blur of unconsciousness.

She brushed her teeth, spit, then opened her mouth wide, looking at the molars, the incisors, the way each tooth aligned perfectly with its neighbor. Precision. Teeth were as unique as fingerprints. What would it look like if all the flesh were gone? If she’d been locked in a Plexiglas cage, had slowly, inexorably starved to death, then rotted away? She tried to imagine her skull as an anthropologist from an archeological dig might. Would he look at the teeth, the brow ridge, the nasal cavity, and think wow, this woman must have been beautiful when she was alive? The teeth must have flashed bright and ready in happiness when this skull breathed. Many men must have found her attractive.

She wished she’d slapped Memphis when he kissed her. The bastard was right. She had kissed him back. And she would have to live with that knowledge. Baldwin could never know.

She pushed all thoughts of Memphis away. She needed to focus on the good here, the fact that she’d caught her killers, solved the case. She’d made all the right moves. She’d proven herself, and that would be nothing but good for her career. There would be plenty of time later to worry about where things would go from here. Baldwin moving back to Nashville full-time would be lovely, but he wouldn’t be happy, even if he didn’t know that now. She had her own demons to wrestle with, her own issues to resolve. It was all bad timing.

With a sigh, she snapped off the bathroom light and went into the bedroom. She’d find a way to fix things; she always did.

Baldwin was already in the bed, reading through the news clippings on the Macellaio case. A special evening edition of the La Nazione had been printed. The front-desk clerk, knowing they were working the case, had kindly held the paper for them, handed it over with a silent smile when they retrieved their key. The headline screamed II Macellaio Interferito-The Butcher Caught. He had dark smudges under his eyes and she felt an unbearable fondness wash over her. They needed a break, someplace with no killers, no specters.

Baldwin rustled the print, the covers tossed carelessly across his legs. At least, he was pretending to read. He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, felt the warmth and love in them. She crawled onto the bed, put her head on his chest.

“We need to sleep. At least for a little bit. Put those away.”

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he said.

She gave him an embarrassed smile. “There’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t mean to be a brat. And I’m, well, that’s neither here nor there.”

“Still thinking about Memphis?”

She looked at him in surprise. How he read her mind sometimes was unnerving.

“Taylor, it’s blatantly apparent to anyone within a fifty-mile radius. I’ve never seen a man fall so hard. He’s going to keep pursuing you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. He’s just…just…a player. I would be a notch in his belt, that’s all.”

“Well, I’d certainly prefer you not becoming a notch in his belt.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. He holds no interest for me. I can handle him.”

“I doubt he’s going to limit his pursuit. I did some more digging into his background. He didn’t have an easy time of it. Being a peer and working for the Met isn’t a match made in heaven. He took a lot of heat at the beginning, didn’t fit in. Then he lost his wife, you know, and a child. She was eight months pregnant when she was killed in a car accident. Her name was Evan, and she looked an awful lot like you. After Evan died, he threw himself into the Met, rose through the ranks. He’s a damn good investigator, but he’s haunted. You’re bringing it all back to the forefront for him, and he’s ready to snap.”

“He’s told me all about it.”

“He’s a fragile man, despite what he may have told you. He’s been in treatment, and is grasping at anything that might get him back on track.”

“So you think I’m just a reminder of his dead wife? Thanks for that.” Her temper flashed briefly; she tamped it down. “I’m just ready to get back to Nashville. At least there I have a handle on my enemies.”

“Are you running from him, Taylor?” There was a strange tone in his voice, a lingering vulnerability that made her narrow her eyes.

“Baldwin, what is the deal? Are you honestly that jealous?”

He tossed his book to the side. He was angry; she could feel the control he was measuring out. “Damn straight I am. What, you think I’m going to sit back and watch some guy sweep you off your feet?”

She realized that he knew exactly what had been going through her head. All the little what-ifs that had been creeping around the edges of her mind. No wonder he was thinking about moving back to Nashville, where he could keep an eye on her. It was time to put those thoughts away, for good. She took his chin in her hand, made him look her straight in the eye.

“Yes, honey, Memphis is attractive. Yes, he’s funny and urbane.”

“And the son of a peer. Don’t forget that part,” Baldwin said.

“And the son of a peer. But sweetheart, you have to know that the thought never crossed my mind. Not the way you think it did.”

“So you’re admitting you thought about it?”

“Baldwin. Stop. I’m not thinking about anything. No one in the world matters more to me than you. Memphis is just a silly little boy. You’re a man, and the only one I love. You’re the only man for me. Don’t ever think otherwise. You hear me?”

“I saw him kiss you,” he said.

So that’s what all this was about. She’d wondered, that night in the piazza when she turned the corner and he was there. It felt contrived, and she assumed Baldwin had witnessed the whole scenario.

She tipped his face toward hers. “That was unconscionable of him, and I’ve told him so. I have made it very, very clear that I am not interested. I was hoping with this case partially wrapped he’d go back to London and be gone. Now it looks like he’s going to be around, at least around you. I will talk to him again, warn him off. If that doesn’t work, you have my permission to beat him up.”

She smiled, snuggled up next to him, rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arms around her and she was struck by how tightly he held her. As if he thought she might actually slip away. Surely he couldn’t seriously think that she wanted out, wanted to go with the British playboy.

Of course he thought that, Taylor. He saw how Memphis was looking at you. He saw him kiss you, for Christ’s sake. He must have seen you respond, even if it was brief. He’s not an idiot. He’s just human, a man like any other. In some ways.

“Baby.” She kissed him on the neck, softly. “I’m sorry.”

He accepted the invitation. He rolled over on her, grabbed her hair roughly in his right hand.

“You’re mine, Taylor. Don’t forget it.” His lips crushed hers, and took her breath away with the intensity. He kept a hold of her hair, had his other hand between her legs, was kissing her as if it was the last kiss they’d ever share, and she had no idea how much time had passed, just knew that she was almost there, almost, when she heard the phone jangling two feet from her ear.

“Ignore it,” she said, breathless, urging him on with her hips.

“It’s yours.” He stopped, inches from entering her, breath ragged with the effort.

Groaning, she wiggled out from under his hips far enough to grab her cell.

There was static, then emptiness. A void surrounded her.

That tinny, childlike voice, the one from her answering machine, from the earlier call, spoke. “I’ll see you soon, Taylor.”

The line went dead, and she started to shiver. It wasn’t over. It would never be over.