Field of Graves(37)

This time. Oh boy. She knew she’d have a job in front of her with Baldwin, just didn’t realize it would entail dragging him out of the jaws of Cerberus. She was shocked to see tears roll down his face.

“I’m kinda glad I showed up when I did. You’d have been a hell of a mess to clean up.” Her tone was light, but the look she gave him wasn’t.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” He gave her the first genuine smile she’d seen since she met him that morning. God, it had only been a day, but she felt as if he’d been under her skin forever. She let out her breath, suddenly aware that she had been holding it.

She gave him a small smile back. “Seriously, let me clean you up a little bit.”

He brushed a big hand across his face, clearly embarrassed. “No, let it be. I’m fine. I want to know why you really came over here.”

He was staring at her so intently that she felt a shiver run down her spine. “To be honest, Sam had some news at dinner I thought you might be interested in. Some results came back from the tests on Shelby Kincaid and Jordan Blake.”

Baldwin looked at her with doubt. “And why do you think I’d be interested in any of it? I quit tonight, remember?”

“You can’t quit something you never started.” She was surprised at how bitter she sounded. Not exactly the tone to be taking with someone who looked as though he had been prepared to kill himself a half hour prior. “I mean...”

Baldwin’s face had hardened. “I know what you mean, Taylor. You’re right. I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want to work this case, and I certainly don’t intend to start now. Why don’t you take your do-gooding ass out of here?” He got up quickly and headed for the bedroom.

Taylor didn’t hesitate, ran after him, heart pounding. If he had a second weapon in there and was intent on finishing the job...

But Baldwin had only gone in the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She let out a breath. Good. If he was going to tend his wound, he wouldn’t be trying to shoot himself at the same time.

“Baldwin, I...”

“I thought I told you to leave,” he said, not turning from the mirror, where he was gingerly dabbing alcohol on his cheek. “Damn,” he hissed.

“Come on, man, let me do that.” Taylor pushed her way into the bathroom and grabbed the cotton before he could resist. She felt all the fight go out of him as he slumped against the counter. He didn’t resist when she finished cleaning the cut, pulled out a bandage, and gingerly placed it over the wound. On impulse, without thinking, she reached in and kissed it.

Baldwin jumped and grabbed her wrists. “What did you do that for?”

Taylor was at a loss for words. She mumbled something and backed away. He let her go.

Baldwin turned and stared in the mirror. He shook his head, snapped off the light, and followed Taylor’s trail. He could hear her in the kitchen, messing with ice. He sat on the couch and said nothing.

She came out of the kitchen with an improvised ice pack. She handed it to him with a shrug. He took it and set it carefully on his face. The cut was starting to throb. Taylor stood with her arms crossed, looking at him as if he were a ticking bomb that would go off at any moment. He met her eyes and gave her a weak smile.

“There’s Advil in the cabinet next to the refrigerator. Will you get me four?”

Taylor nodded. She needed to get out from under that gaze. She took her time finding the pills. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but as long as it kept the gun out of his hand, she’d keep doing it. She spied the revolver under the kitchen table. Picking it up gingerly, she checked the chambers, found them empty, and stuffed the gun in the back of her jeans.

Baldwin’s eyes were closed when she came back in the room. She thought maybe he’d gone to sleep, but jumped when his deep voice softly rumbled, “Thanks.”

“Sure.” She got the feeling he was thanking her for more than the painkiller. She handed them to him and backed away again, stationing herself against the mantel of the fireplace.

“You can’t understand,” he said. “You’ve never been in a place like this. A place with no hope.”

“Yes, I have.”

Baldwin’s eyes shot open, and he saw her staring at the marble inlay at the base of the hearth. He felt the sadness radiate from her. He started to ask, stopped himself. He didn’t like to talk about his demons; he couldn’t imagine she would either. He was surprised when she answered the unspoken question.

“I shot a fellow detective a few months ago. Killed him. Let’s leave it at that for now, okay? So yeah, I’ve been there. It’s not a nice place to be. Besides, I don’t think talking about my problems will help you right now.”

Baldwin was intrigued, but didn’t push it. His natural inclination was to fall back onto his training and try to draw her out, but he laughed instead.

“Sure thing. Neutral ground then. What was so important to bring you over here at midnight to interrupt all my grand plans?”

Taylor was suddenly serious, all business. A spark flashed in her eyes, and she grinned.

“Aconite.”





28



Baldwin sat up in surprise, wincing as the ice pack smacked hard against his cheek. He leaned back slowly. “Aconite? They were poisoned with aconite?”