The Immortals by J.T. Ellison

wasn’t going to be a good experience. He’d fought hard toclear his name back then, and he’d do it again now. Surely Charlotte’s notes were exaggerations of the truth. That was her forte.
    He could only hope that it didn’t go any deeper.

Six
    Nashville
8:00 p.m.
    T aylor shut the door on the Norwoods and leaned back against the frame. She needed to see the last two crime scenes—the second double especially—but she needed a break. She wondered where Baldwin had gone.
    She had just flipped open her cell phone to call him when he rounded the corner of the house, hands in his hair. The ends were sticking up in the back. She stepped off the porch and met him in the yard. He was white, obviously furious.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked.
    He look startled for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve just got to go back up to Quantico. Garrett needs me on a case.”
    There was something in his voice, a note of doubt that she immediately seized on. He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. She reached out and touched his chin, turning his face to hers.
    â€œA case?”
    He gave her a halfhearted grin. “An old case. They need some testimony about it. I’m so sorry to have to run out on you.”
    â€œWe’ll be fine. Are you leaving in the morning?”
    â€œNow, actually. Garrett sent the plane. I’ll have to review my notes and the hearing starts at 7:00.”
    She could feel his distraction, decided not to force it. One thing she’d learned about Baldwin, he would eventually tell her what was going on. Pushing him when he was still working things out wouldn’t get her anywhere. And she had enough on her hands here.
    â€œDo you need a ride? I can get a patrol to take you to the airport.”
    He nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”
    He kissed her, letting his hand linger for a moment around the back of her neck. He felt so…sad. It was coming off him in waves. She wished she could help, knew he’d come to her when he was ready for actual consolation.
    â€œHoney, can I help?” she asked softly.
    His answering smile was grim. “I wish you could, Taylor. But I have to handle this myself.”
    Â 
    Taylor watched the patrol car drive away, wondering again what in the world could drag Baldwin to Quantico at this hour. She didn’t have time to worry about it; she had too much work to do. The chill was setting in, the air crisp with cold. She shivered, started to go back inside the Vanderwoods’ when her cell rang.
    It was Marcus, distraught and short.
    â€œWe have another body,” he said. “Female teen, four streets over from Estes, Warfield Lane. Completely off the original path.”
    Jesus. She thought they were in the clear. There’d been no new reports for over an hour. The house-to-house canvass had calmed, people were off the streets and barricaded in their homes. The media was frustrated, being kept away from the crime scenes. Too bad. They’d be able to dine out on this news for weeks anyway.
    â€œI’ll be right there,” she said.
    Taylor bolted out the front door, ran directly into Sam.She grabbed Sam’s arm for balance, narrowly avoided falling down the front steps.
    â€œGood grief, cookie, who lit your hair on fire?”
    â€œSorry about that, Sam. I’ve got another. Want to hit it with me?”
    â€œAnother? Good God. That makes, what?”
    â€œEight. Can we go now? Marcus just called and he’s obviously crushed.”
    â€œYeah. I’ll come back and declare this one afterward. Where’s Baldwin?”
    â€œHe got called back to Quantico, some sort of emergency.”
    â€œLike this isn’t one.”
    â€œNo kidding.”
    They wound their way under the crime-scene tape strung across the road and drove down a few streets to Warfield Lane. This house wasn’t as fancy as those on Estes—just a single-story