14 - J. T. Ellison [129]
“What’s that?”
“We will not press charges against her father.”
Fifty
Nashville, Tennessee
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 department 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, 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 funny angle, and Taylor immediately went and placed a pillow under his cheek. He smiled and mumbled something unintelligible. The television was still on—a documentary about the Sex Pistols. She watched it vaguely for a few moments, then turned it off and shut off the light, leaving Baldwin to his dreams.
Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Where could she find some? She didn’t feel like going out. She really hadn’t wanted to leave the house at all. Purely a psychological reaction to having her life taken out of her hands, she knew that. She puttered around in the kitchen, opening cabinets, until Baldwin’s voice made her jump.
“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 went to the freezer, started scavenging. Behind two Tupperwares 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.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
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