14 - J. T. Ellison [74]
“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.
“Simon has them. Bless his heart, he was thrilled at the thought of keeping them today. He’s so tickled by everything 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 4Runner. In the window’s reflection, a flash of black hair caught her eye. Raven hair, pale face, crimson lips. Just another customer entering the spa. But the image of Giselle St. Claire’s broken body popped into her mind, followed by the massage-parlor victims.
The likeness of the pretty young woman to the murdered 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 appropriate wheels were in motion, she could put thoughts of everything else out of her head. Focus on Baldwin, on their life together. The idea of leaving the case open and active made her stomach hurt.
The CJC looked forlorn in the winter landscape. The cold stone appeared colder, the windows seemed to have empty rooms behind them. Since there was more snow predicted, she assumed people had taken off early. Taylor stared at the entrance, the back door she’d come through hundreds of times, realizing that this would be the last time she’d see it from this perspective. Swallowing the misgivings, she bounded up the stairs, swiped her card and took the hallway to her office. She didn’t run into a soul, confirming her earlier feeling. The building was practically empty. Except for the homicide offices.
She turned the corner and was greeted with a hail of shouts and cheers.
“Taylor, what the hell are you doing here?” Marcus scrambled out of a chair, making a place by the