Judas Kiss (31 page)

T
aylor was tired. They were sitting outside Henry Anderson's home again. The sun had gone down. The air was cool, nippy almost. The lights in Anderson's home looked warm, inviting. She watched Michelle Harris bustle through the living room, couldn't tell if she was crying or singing with joy.

When Taylor knocked this time, it was with her knuckles. Polite. Rap, rap, rap.

Michelle came to the door, saw Taylor and Baldwin standing on her step again. Her face contorted in anger. Before she could react, Taylor held up her hands, palm forward.

“It's okay. Can we come in? We need to talk to you.”

“Why would I let you in? You've completely destroyed my life in the past week.” But she walked away from the door, leaving it open. With a shrug to Baldwin, Taylor went into the house.

Michelle had lit a fire and looked to be having some sort of celebration. Takeout containers and an open bottle of wine sat on the coffee table in the den. This time, Taylor did take a moment to look around, and was struck by the incongruity of the scene. Anderson was a foul creature, profited from the basest of people's emotions, yet his home was as warm and inviting as Taylor's own. It made a chill go down her spine.

Michelle sat on the leather sofa, drew her bare feet up under her. She picked up the glass of wine, toyed with the stem.

“Do you want some,” she salvoed. It wasn't really a question and Taylor didn't bother answering.

“Why did you do it, Michelle? Why did you kill Corinne?”

Michelle didn't look up, just stared deep into the contents of her glass. A pinot noir, judging by the lightness of the red and the brown notes that caught in the reflection of the merrily dancing fire. Taylor glanced at the bottle. Yes, she was right. A David Bruce, decent vintage too. Jesus, was Anderson an amateur oenophile like herself as well? Dark and light, that's what they were. Two sides of the same coin. She shuddered, forced her thoughts back to Michelle.

“I loved him,” Michelle said. “It was as simple as that.”

“Were you with Todd that weekend? Was he with you instead of in Savannah, like he claimed?”

“Yes. We met up in Crossville, stayed the night.”

God. Cold-blooded was getting a twin. Killed her sister, framed her lover. Nice girl.

“You know we have to arrest you now.”

“Can I finish my wine?”

Taylor glanced at Baldwin. His green eyes had gone nearly black in the firelight. He nodded.

“If you tell us how it happened.”

Michelle leaned forward, took the bottle, and poured herself a hefty dollop. With an almost apologetic smile at Taylor, she took a gulp, emptied the rest of the bottle into the glass, then sat back with a smile, as if she were going to tell a wonderful story.

“She had them both. Both of them loved her. They'd fuck me. Well, Henry couldn't do it so much, but he panted after Corinne like a dog in heat. Todd was so wrapped around her little finger, he'd do anything she told him. She ran things, you know that, don't you?”

Taylor nodded. An exhaustive search of all the records indeed showed Corinne's hand dipping into each aspect of Anderson's empire.

“She was even better at being a criminal than she was at tennis. There was nothing she couldn't do. I loved them both, and they both loved her. Gave her children. Gave her everything. I got the scraps. Always had. It wasn't fair. You know about Connecticut?”

“Yes. You beat a man to death.”

She went blank, her piercing blue eyes shuttered. “He raped me. He deserved it. He promised me he'd come back the next day, rape Corinne too. I had no choice, I had to defend her.”

“You killed a man to protect her. If you loved her so much, why did you kill her? Why did you frame the man you loved with your sister's blood?”

Michelle was silent, drank more of the wine. Her eyes were starting to droop; she looked a bit tipsy. Michelle knew she was caught. She had nothing to lose, not anymore.

“That was convenient. She cut her hand in his truck. I knew he'd get the blame. We always fought, but we had a horrific fight on Friday night. We'd been going through some of the tapes that we were going to sell. She made a crack about Henry not being able to get it up with me, I made a crack about Todd being able to get it up just fine. Yes.” She waved her hand around. She was getting deeper into the liquor. Taylor reached for the glass, set it aside. Michelle didn't notice.

“I had such fun with Todd. She didn't know we were doing it. Right under her noshe, her
nose
. She din't like that. I said too bad, if she got to fuck my man, I got to fuck hers. One thing led to another. I couldn't stand looking at her anymore. She said I was a failure, that I'd always been the biggest disappointment in Mother and Daddy's life. She wash mean.”

Michelle's eyes were clouding, and her pupils seemed huge in the soft light.

Taylor jumped to her feet. “Shit! Baldwin, call 911. She's OD'ing. God damn it. She must have taken something before we got here. Michelle!”

Taylor shook her, and Michelle smiled. “I forgot…to turn off the lights. Don't tell…Mom. She'd be…mad…if she…knew.”

She stopped responding. Baldwin called the ambulance, then came and felt for a pulse. They laid her down. Her breath was short, her heartbeat thready against Taylor's fingers.

“Damn, Baldwin, what did she take?”

“I don't know. I don't see anything here.”

“Maybe in the kitchen? Come on, Michelle, stay with us. Michelle?”

Baldwin left for a moment, came back with a prescription bottle. “She took lorazepam. Corinne's prescription. I don't know how many were in here though, it was refilled this afternoon. It's empty now. She wasn't kidding around.”

The EMTs were banging on the front door, and Baldwin let them in, telling them what they knew.

“Will she live?” Taylor asked him.

“I don't know. Alcohol and lorazepam can be deadly, but it seems we might have caught it in time. It's going to be touch and go.”

His voice was cold. They stood side by side and watched as the EMTs worked on Michelle. The urgency of the rescue effort became nearly frantic. They were forced to secure an airway and do active CPR. A few moments later, the EMTs screamed out of the house with Michelle on a gurney, not willing to let her die on their watch, headed for Baptist Hospital.

Taylor stood in the door, watched them leave. She crossed her arms and glared accusingly at Baldwin.

“You knew,” she said.

He nodded.

“We could have called for help sooner,” she said.

“We could have. But we know the truth now. If she didn't think she was going to die, she wouldn't have told us.”

Wearily, Taylor called for a crime scene investigative team to come to the house. She didn't want to take any chances.

She felt like she was walking through mud. It was midnight when she and Baldwin got back into the car. The call came as they drove home. Michelle Harris had died at 11:56 p.m.

T
he media was having a field day with the planted camera story.

National and local news reporters were fleshing out all the details of the past week's events. The print and online journalists were digging up some extra salacious tidbits. It felt like the whole world was focused on Nashville.

Taylor was wrapping up the report on her interview with Michelle Harris when she got a call. She was to report to the Office of Professional Accountability immediately. The Oompa wanted her.

Taylor had no idea what the problem might be, and waited a good ten minutes before finally shutting off her light and wending her way to the third-floor offices of the OPA.

Delores Norris's door was open.

“Come in,” she demanded. There was no pleasantry in her tone. Taylor entered the office for the third time in a week, wishing she were anywhere but here. God, she hated this woman.

Delores looked like a very satisfied jackal, one who'd spent the previous day and night feasting on the deserted remains of an antelope. She launched in immediately, obviously thrilled.

“We have a
problem
, Lieutenant.”

Taylor started to sit, and Delores tsk'ed at her. Taylor raised an eyebrow and sat anyway, crossing her arms across her chest. The Oompa was still forced to look up at her, maliciousness sparking in her eyes. Power hungry bitch, Taylor thought.

“And what problem would that be?”

“I've been looking
over
the reports on the Harris suicide. According to the EMT report on Michelle
Harris
, there
was
a chance her life could have been saved. Instead, you and your boyfriend interrogated the suspect, allowed
her
to continue drinking. Is
this
true?”

“Let me see. Yes, we interrogated her. It's called solving a case. As for whether she would have died or not, only God can tell us that.”

“So you've imbued yourself
with
the power of God now?”

“Captain Norris, what do you want? I'm tired. The cases are closed. Satisfactorily to all involved, I must say.”

“I have a
choice
to make, Lieutenant. Seeing as there is
yet
another complaint against you, I could
suspend
you pending the outcome of the investigation into
your
actions.”

“You're kidding me. I've done nothing wrong.”

“Eyes of the
beholder
, Lieutenant. Shall we review your past week? One of
your
detectives did drugs with a confidential informant, and you didn't report it. You threatened a suspect with your weapon, a
suspect
that wasn't being questioned in an official capacity. According to your
peers
, you worked on a murder investigation
while
you were on suspension, even going so far as to contact the
mother
of the murder victim. You've been
playing
extremely fast and loose with the rules. And that's not how we work things here at Metro.
Not
with me.”

Wow. The Oompa had been doing her homework. Lincoln must have done his debrief and admitted he'd checked in with her. How she'd found out about Taylor's morning of interviews was beyond her. Oh, the cop who was guarding her must have talked. Or Mrs. Harris. Damn.

“I understand how some of that might look. Detective Ross confided in me. In an ordinary circumstance, I would have gone directly to Captain Price, but Detective Ross was on assignment, and we had a breaking murder investigation. As far as the suspect I questioned, I could have arrested him for assaulting an officer. He tried to detain me the evening before. I was doing him a favor by not arresting him.”

“But, Lieutenant,
you
don't get to make the rules.
That
isn't how you've been trained, now is it? There is
only
one option left to me at this point. I've already
discussed
it with the chief,
and
he agrees that this is the correct course of action. You have
gone
off the reservation
one
too many times, and
we
feel a
full
psychiatric evaluation and continued monitoring would be
beneficial
to your career at the present time.

“And your team will
have
to report to
different
management while you're under evaluation. We
can't
have our team leaders on the brink, and it's become
obvious
to all involved that you're not capable of this
level
of leadership. Your team needs to be
instilled
with some discipline. They need to
learn
that they don't
get
to take the law into
their
own hands. And you need to learn that you
don't
rule this department.”

Taylor let her emotions take control. She stood, forcing the chair back from the table with a rending screech. “You can't do that! That is completely unfair. I've done nothing wrong. My team has done nothing wrong. You're just pissed off that you can't fire me.”

The Oompa smiled. “That's
not
true. I'm not upset with that
outcome
in the least. You'll learn that you need to
obey
your superiors. And your
superiors
have learned their lessons as well. Captain Price is going to be taking
early
retirement.”

Taylor flashed back to Price, grimly challenging Delores, defending Taylor. She borrowed his words. “You bitch!” she snarled. “I'll fight you to the death on this one.”

“Temper,
temper
, my dear. Wouldn't want
that
to get into the daily reports, now would we?”

“There are better ways to get at me, Delores. You don't have to punish them.”

The Oompa shifted in her chair, her eyes narrowing, face tightening. “Oh,
on
the contrary. I think this is
the
finest way to get to you. I don't believe
you,
Miss Jackson. I think you
did
kill David Martin. At least you set it up so
you
could have a favorable outcome. Maybe next
time
, you'll think twice
before
you suborn and perjure yourself. Videotapes are
easily
manipulated, I believe you told me? You should be careful
what
you say, my dear. It can come
back
and bite you in the ass. If they can
be
manipulated one way, why
not
the other? Your story about Martin doesn't ring true. And too many
experts
got involved. We'll be taking the tapes to an
independent
analyst.”

“I haven't lied about any of this. Not once,” Taylor spit through clenched teeth. “You know that.”

“Do I? Well,
all
I can say is time will tell. To top your
stellar
week off, a serial killer you allowed to escape has returned to town, has
killed
in your name. No, my dear. It's high time for this
department
to make some changes. We need a
full
accounting of the actions of your homicide team over the
past
year. Lincoln Ross
will
move to the North sector. Marcus Wade
will
be in South. And Sergeant Fitzpatrick
will
be encouraged to take early retirement along with Mitchell Price.”

Taylor felt the fury rise in her gut. This woman was past power-hungry, she was giddy in her joy at Taylor's misfortune. Delores handed her the papers.

“
You
can tell them. I'm
sure
it will sting less coming from you. You've
taken
such good care of them all this time. Maybe you'll learn to keep
your
alley-cat tendencies out of their hair now so they can
try
to move on with their lives. You
will
report for your psychiatric evaluation Monday morning.”

Taylor was mute. A million thoughts raced through her mind. The most prevalent was don't get yourself fired. You can fight this. Her actions are unwarranted and possibly illegal. Just don't get yourself fired.

“Oh, and
one
more thing.”

Taylor dragged her eyes to the Oompa's face. The bitch had the audacity to grin.

“You will be bumped
down
. Two grades. You're a detective again.” The Oompa leaned her stubby hands on the desk, leaned in toward Taylor, hissed, “You're damn
lucky
I didn't get you put back out on the street.
Maybe
if you learned to think like a cop again you'd
realize
that we
all
have to follow the law.”

Taylor felt her mouth open, knew if she left it open, she'd say something she'd never be able to take back. She didn't know if this was for real, if Delores Norris had enough power to make these things happen. Back to being a detective? Bumped two grades? Holy shit. She snapped her teeth together with an audible click that make the Oompa smile wider. She knew the control it was taking Taylor not to mouth herself right out of a job, was hoping Taylor's famous restraint would fail.

No. Taylor refused to let this harridan win. She took the papers, turned and left the office.

 

“What are you going to do?”

Baldwin was steaming mad, stalking their back deck as Taylor tried to sip a beer. The lightning bugs were putting on a show. The soft spring air glittered with humidity, the promise of a storm. The grass seemed greener in the gloaming, the bark of the trees black against the verdant lawn. A rabbit nibbled at the edges of tall grass, taking advantage of a spot where the lawn mower couldn't quite reach.

“You can't let this happen. What are you going to do?” he asked again.

Taylor shook her head. “My hands are tied. The team has been split up. Price was practically fired. Fitz is seriously considering the early retirement. I'm at a loss, Baldwin.” She stood up, went to the railing. Words were failing her. She was on the verge of tears. Frustration always brought her emotions to the surface, this moment was no different. She took a few deep breaths and tried to focus.

She pointed at thin air. “Do you know this spider has been out here every night this week, trying to set up a home? He's like a camper pitching his little tent to get out of a raging storm. He runs around the edges of the web, desperate to get it built, waits and waits and waits for a gnat or moth or lightning bug to fumble their way into the sticky edges. All that work, to sit and wait, hoping for a meal.”

She took a broken branch from the tree, used it to break apart the web. The spider scuttled away. “All that work,” she repeated.

Baldwin crossed to her, took the branch and laid it on the railing. He turned Taylor to face him, his voice soft. “Seriously, babe, what are you going to do?”

Taylor looked into his emerald eyes and felt the despair build in the pit of her stomach. She turned away, looked out into the woods. Took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.

“Baldwin, there's only one thing I can do. I have to fight.”