Field of Graves(85)

When Price had finished his briefing, she got up and went into the ladies’ room. She splashed cold water on her face and toweled it off. Her chest was still tight, but she was breathing easier. She had it under control. She looked in the mirror and was surprised at what she saw. There was no little girl with scared eyes staring back at her. The woman standing in the mirror was strong, and her jaw was determined. The panic was gone, her breathing was calm, and she realized that she was back. Taylor was back. And she would have Baldwin in her life, no matter what happened.

She gave herself a smile and looked at her watch. Five o’clock. It was starting to get dark. The streets of Nashville would be filled with people heading home to their other lives, students making their way to their favorite watering holes.

She walked back into the squad room, saying a small prayer under her breath. Please, God, let us find her. Let us find Jill alive and catch this guy. She stopped herself short of promising to go to church on Sunday if they did. She knew enough not to make promises she wouldn’t keep.

Baldwin came bounding back into the office with a book in his hand.

“What do you have there?” Taylor wandered over to him and stood close, happy to have him back near her.

“King James Bible.”

“That was quite a conversion. Are you going to start preaching to us now?”

“Naw, it’ll wait. I’ll tell you about it in the car. Are we ready to rock?”

“Actually, I’m heading to Hillsboro and you’re headed to Granny White with Marcus. Can you call me on the cell and tell me about it while we ride over?”

“No problem.”

Taylor looked at Price, who gave them a thumbs-up, then addressed the entire squad.

“Keep in touch, and I mean really keep in touch. No heroics here today, kids. If you find the Gates girl, call everyone in to that location. If she’s alive, we can go from there. You find this Gabriel Lucas, and you get him whatever way you have to. Am I clear?”

Taylor was surprised, but tried not to show it. “We have clearance to use deadly force if necessary?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. Lincoln, you ready?”

“Sure thing.” He gathered up his vest. “LT? Be good, girl!” He gave her a brief hug.

“Okay, guys, let’s go catch us a bad guy.”

There were backslaps and high fives. They all knew the case was going down tonight. The excitement was building in her chest. She was pumped, ready to roll, ready to save Jill Gates. She just hoped Jill was at one of the three addresses.

They made their way into the parking lots. Patrol cars paraded like ants along Third Avenue. Taylor got in her car and rolled down the window as Fitz climbed into the passenger seat.

Baldwin leaned in her window for a brief moment. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Just so we’re clear? No worries, okay. I’m up for this.”

Taylor felt her body melt. “Baldwin, I wouldn’t let you go out if I didn’t think you were. Now, get in that car with Marcus, watch his back, and call me on the cell. I want to hear your theory.”

She leaned out the window, kissed him full on the mouth, and heard cheers and honks from the cars around her. She just smiled, put the car in gear, shot them the bird out her window, and peeled out of the lot. Man, it felt good to be back.





71



Taylor was trying not to kill any of Nashville’s finest citizens as she drove toward Green Hills. She concentrated on the road, had her cell phone on Speaker, listening to Baldwin explain why he’d rushed off in search of a Bible.

“It was something that jerk-off Royce at Vanderbilt said. Lucas told him he’d had a revelation. It got me thinking about the prayer breakfast Lucas had gone to, the one where Father Xavier spoke? I called Royce and asked what the topic was. Get this. It was basically a modern-day interpretation of the Apocalypse. All of the problems the world is having. The war on terror, the religious fanaticism driving suicide bombers...he was sermonizing that if we all came back into the Church, it would all end.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I know it sounds naive, but I’ve never been able to understand why we all can’t just get along. Really, I don’t get it. All religions have a God. Buddha, Krishna, Mohammad, Christ. Everyone is praying to something they think has control or worships a word that represents what they believe in. Can’t they see that everyone, regardless of what religion they call themselves, is looking for that spiritual meaning? Does it really have to be so complicated? We all want to think that something is out there giving us strength and guidance. Who cares what you call Him? Sorry, I don’t mean to get on my soapbox. But most of what I see, the violence and greed and hatred, day after day, could be wiped out entirely if we’d only accept people’s differences, instead of attacking them for it.”

“No problem, preach away. I’d love to discuss it further, because you make an excellent point. But let’s get back to the Apocalypse.”

“Yes, let’s. So the world is going to end in a fiery crash, huh?”

“Perhaps. This sounds crazy, but this is what I think Lucas is up to. Shelby Kincaid. Jordan Blake. Mary Margaret de Rossi. Father Francis Xavier. Tammy Boxer, known as Mona Lisa. These are our victims, right?”

“Right. Don’t forget Jill.”

“I’m not, I just don’t think she’s dead. I think she’s holding the key to all of this.”