14

Wednesday, December 24

9:00 a.m.

Taylor was searching the house for Hershey’s Kisses. She knew there’d been a bagful in the dining room, in the Italian pewter basin on the sideboard, but the bowl was empty now. She foraged through the kitchen cabinets, found three packs of Smarties left over from Halloween and transported from the cabin, but that wouldn’t work. She needed chocolate. Something inside her was craving the sweetest thing she could find, as if that sweetness could fill the chill in her soul.

After the usual rigmarole—the meeting with the de

partment shrink, the placement on administrative duty, Baldwin had taken her home. They’d gotten to bed much too late, and she’d woken abruptly at three, her hands tight around L’Uomo’s neck. She’d strangled him in her dream. Unable to get back to sleep, she’d played a round of pool, then sat and stared blankly at the television, 14

385

watching reruns of the day’s news until she drifted off again.

She woke in desperate need of something. She knew she was subconsciously craving a cigarette. Damn Stella. Finding nothing on the first floor of the house, she made her way upstairs, ostensibly to wake Baldwin and demand he tell her where her Kisses had gotten off to. She went into their bedroom. Baldwin had fallen asleep fully clothed the night before, on top of the bedding. His head was at a fu

“Look in the freezer.”

She turned and saw him smiling at her. It wasn’t a happy, good-to-see-you smile, it was more of a grim reminder of what they’d both been through over the past couple of days.

She gave him a look. “How do you know what I’m looking for?”

“You’re looking for chocolate.”

“How do you know that? How in the world could you possibly be that in tune that you know what I’m thinking, what I’m looking for? I hate it when you do that.” She 386

J.T. Ellison

went to the freezer, started scavenging. Behind two Tup

perwares of soup, there was a bag of chocolate chips, left over from some cookie-making venture.

She saw the hurt in his eyes, and started to apologize, but something held her tongue.

She pulled the bag out and crossed to the counter, hauling herself up onto a corner. Legs dangling, she dove in, filling her mouth with the sweet goodness. They were hard and crunchy, but delicious.

Baldwin went to the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, then set about making her a cup of tea. She watched him, then accepted the steaming cup. Somewhat mollified, she sipped and said, “Thank you.”

“Wa

She looked up from the yellow bag. Baldwin was staring at her intently.

“Not really, no.”

“You need to get it out of your system. I can’t imagine all the feelings you must be having now, knowing what’s happening. You did everything right, did what you were supposed to do. And you’re safe, for which I am forever grateful. But you still need to talk about what happened. The kidnapping. Snow White. About your Dad and Malik. About the cases. Us. Anything, Taylor.”

She sipped her tea, not certain why she was angry at Baldwin. He’d done nothing wrong. “No, I really don’t.”

“Babe—”

“I said, no, I don’t. Don’t push me, Baldwin. It was my wedding, too. I’m not in the mood. I’ve killed two men this week, found out my father is alive but I have to send him to jail, my wedding was ruined….”

He took three strides and invaded her space. 14

387

“I don’t care what kind of mood you’re in. You have to talk about what happened. We have to talk about all of this. It will fester if you don’t. You have to tell me what’s hap

pening in your head so I can be sure I’m not putting you in a situation—”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? You putting me in a situation?” Taylor jumped off the counter, threw the empty bag in the trash. “I can handle myself just fine, Agent Baldwin. Don’t forget it.”

She stomped out of the kitchen through the mudroom and into the garage. How dare he? She was fuming. She knew she was overreacting, but couldn’t help herself. She slapped the button and the garage door started its lumber

ing journey up. She went down the steps and yanked open the door to her 4Ru

And God damn Win Jackson. This was all his fault. How he had the conscience to put her in this position, to make her choose between the right thing to do and his life. Well, fuck them. Fuck them all.

She drove, not thinking about where she was going. There were fields to her right, a fence and a tree on a hill. One Tree Hill Farm, she knew. Brilliantly original name. As a rule the bucolic setting calmed her spirit, made her happy. They raised cattle, and normally had two sets of calves a year, one in the spring and again in the fall. She loved to drive by and see the babies trotting after their mothers, lowing for milk. It was one of the reasons they’d bought off of this road, because for a brief moment, Taylor felt like she was in the country driving to and from work. 388

J.T. Ellison

There were three vultures sitting on the fence posts, leering at a grouping of cattle. Taylor slowed, watching them, so out of place in her mind and her pastoral getaway. Vultures meant death. She glanced at the bulk of black and realized that it was a grouping of cows, each facing out

ward, protecting something at the center of their circle. She looked closer, trying to figure out what was happen

ing. Her mind filled in the details.

A calf had been born, hopelessly out of season. It was struggling for life. The vultures were there, smelling death, knowing that they would have full bellies this evening. And the cows were protecting the calf from the harpies who would celebrate the end of its life with a feast.

She realized she’d stopped the car only after she was out the door, screaming in fury at the vultures. They hopped away for a moment, glaring at her with all-knowing eyes. Short of hopping the fence and taking the calf in her arms and spiriting it away, there was nothing she could do to stop this.

The anger welled in her, bright and furious. She blamed the farmer for allowing one of his cows to mate out of season, for not watching closer to make sure she gave birth in the barn instead of on a snow-drenched hilltop. She blamed the vultures for being such disgusting beasts. To sit and watch your di

One of the cows caught her gaze. It stood, implacable, watching her tantrum. It met her eyes and lowed, a bovine 14

389

acknowledgment of her pain. She was feeling helpless, as well, knowing the life of the calf was ebbing behind her. The sound stopped Taylor’s fury and she dropped to the ground, all the pain releasing in frustrated tears. The vultures took their place on the fence post again, patiently awaiting their turn.