14

Friday, December 19

8:00 a.m.

Taylor got up early, grabbed a latte and fought the melting snow and ice down to the spa where she was supposed to meet Sam. Even after three days, the roads were anything but clear, but they were passable if you knew what you were doing. Taylor did, and apparently so did the Vietnamese woman who owned the salon. Taylor parked in the lot, one of four cars. The snow was due to start again later in the morning, the temperature was going to drop, making the roads treacherous.

All of this just felt so wrong—she should be at work, should be combing through files, doing everything in her power to stop two killers, one old, one new. Yet here she was, sitting in front of a spa, looking forward to getting a massage, to spending some time away from the cases. The guilt of wanting to be disengaged from it all was bitter in the back of her mouth.

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J.T. Ellison

She looked at herself in the rearview mirror. What was she supposed to do? Last night she’d committed not to cancel the wedding, then sealed that promise. Baldwin was right. She wasn’t the only cop on the force. They could, would catch the killer. If she were around when it happened, fantastic. If not, the crew would have her neverending thanks. Cases don’t resolve themselves in a week. She kept that mantra ru

she’d say. “Lighten up and enjoy yourself for once.” She took a sip of her latte, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon and help her wake up. She was exhausted. Maybe Sam was right, a day of pampering couldn’t be all bad. She checked in with a young Vietnamese girl, then took a seat, fiddled with a brochure on micro dermabra

sion. It looked like it hurt.

Thirty hours from now, she would be a married woman. Looking at the sheet of paper in front of her, she laughed. She’d been doodling while she waited for her appointment to start, and she felt like a teenager when she saw the initials intertwined within a heart that she’d unconsciously drawn. TEJ + JWB = TLA. True Love Always. Oh, God. She wondered how long this was going to take, then mentally chastised herself. Day off, day off, day off. She kept repeating the words until Sam blew in the door. Wearing sweats and flip-flops, dragging a large Birkin bag that was stuffed with God knew what, she barked a brief hello in Vietnamese to the shop owner, then enfolded 14

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Taylor in a rib-cracking hug. Her nose was cold against Taylor’s cheek.

“Morning, sugar! I am so frickin’ excited. Are you not just about to die? It’s tomorrow, finally. Seriously, T, you’re getting married tomorrow! I feel like we’ve been pla

“That would be because you’ve been pla

“Taylor,” Sam admonished, ignoring the gibe. “C’mon, sweetie. This is going to be a simple, elegant wedding. Nothing fancy, no doves or horse-drawn carriages. It’s going to be exactly what you’ve always wanted. It’s very you.”

Taylor rolled her eyes at her best friend. When they were growing up, back when they still had some sem

blance of i

zines, assembled frilly, doily-packed scrapbooks with all the appropriate wedding accoutrements. They giggled and dreamed and grew starry-eyed at the thought of true love. As she grew older, those fantasies left her. The whole idea of a fairy-tale wedding seemed a bit absurd, so frivo

lous. But she was committed now. No turning back. No white-sand beach at sunset or Elvis impersonator in Vegas. No, she’d agreed to the whole church thing. Full circle for her. She’d started out wanting that, decided it wasn’t for her, and was now reaping what she’d sown all those years ago. At least after last night, her cold feet were strictly from the weather.

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J.T. Ellison

Sam was eyeing her patiently, waiting for some sign that all was well in Taylorville. With a wry smile, Taylor winked at her. Ah, who was she trying to kid? She was excited. Scared witless, but excited nonetheless.

“Okay. You’re right. I can’t wait. I’m nervous as hell, too, so I hope you made my massage an extralong one. With hot stones and shit. I haven’t been relaxed in the two months since the Snow White started. Hey, did you—”

Sam shook her head, interrupting. “Hell. No. We are not, I repeat, are not going to talk about work today. This is your day to relax and get beautiful. You got me?”

Taylor waved her hands in submission. “Fine. You don’t have to be so touchy. I was just wondering—”

“Zip it. No wondering.” Sam eyed her for a moment, then shook her head. “You just have the bug, don’t you?

Can’t stop thinking about this case for two seconds. To answer your question, no, I didn’t find the frankincense and myrrh on the massage-parlor victims. Now, you listen to me. That’s it. Moratorium on death and destruction for one day. Deal?”

Taylor smiled at her best friend. “Fine. Deal. What did you do with the twins?”

They were interrupted by a soft-spoken woman with arched cheekbones and blue-black straight hair. “Oh, Miss Sam, Miss Taylor. Pedicure first, ladies.”

“Thank you, Mai.” The lady led them to a side room where soft music played.

Taylor settled into a massage chair, dunking her feet in the warm water. Sam was seated to her right, happy to talk about her babies instead of dead bodies. Madeline and Matthew had come into the world only two months earlier, and were already the focus of everyone’s attention. 14

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“Simon has them. Bless his heart, he was thrilled at the thought of keeping them today. He’s so tickled by every

thing they do. Me, I love them to death, but I could use a nap. Twenty naps. I’m going to sleep through most of today as it is.”

They passed the morning comfortably, chatting, doing the girlie things that would signal to the world that Taylor was getting married. French manicures, pedicures, facials. A lovely massage, a quick eyebrow and bikini wax, then they were ready to go. Five hours of pure, unadulterated primping. As they walked out into the freezing air, Taylor was amazed at how relaxed she felt.

Taylor gave Sam a quick hug goodbye, then turned to her 4Ru

The likeness of the pretty young woman to the mur

dered girls instantly killed all the hours of relaxation she’d just experienced. Snow White was haunting her. Despite Sam’s wishes, she had to swing by the office, wrap up one or two little things, make sure the paperwork was up-to-date for all of her other cases. Maybe get one last glimpse into the Snow White war room before she left. Everything was being handled. The FBI were involved, and that Charlotte Douglas bitch. The case would be well covered by her team. Once she was satisfied all the appro