Текст книги "Judas Kiss"

Автор книги: J. T. Ellison

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“None of your beeswax.” She stabbed out the cigarette, turned away. The childish answer broke Taylor’s heart. There but for the grace of God go I. Then again, maybe not. Taylor had never understood the cycles of domestic violence. She’d seen the outcomes time and time again. The plays for control, the vicious fights that escalated to beatings, the beatings that got more and more severe until they sometimes resulted in death. How hard would it be to just walk away? These men who knew how to strike without leaving visible bruises, Taylor would like to round them up and shoot them all. She caught Baldwin’s eye. He was the psychiatrist, let him try.

As Baldwin moved to talk to the girl, Marcus and Taylor took a lap around the house. Dirt-filled crevices, roaches, abandoned magazines without covers, pizza boxes. The bathroom hadn’t been cleaned in weeks, and a lone plastic stick sat on the cracked vanity. A pregnancy test. Too much time had passed for the results to still be visible, whether hours or days, Taylor didn’t know. There was no sign of Henry Anderson, no men’s toiletries, no clothes. It seemed Wendy had been telling the truth, Anderson didn’t live here. Not anymore.

They went back to the overheated living room. 364

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Wendy sat on the decrepit couch. She was crying quietly. Baldwin was perched on the milk crate next to her, holding her hand.

Baldwin spoke without taking his eyes off the girl.

“Anderson lives in East Nashville. He holds this house as an address for the police, rents it out. Wendy hasn’t seen him for weeks. I believe her,” he added. A fragile trust had obviously been forged between them. Baldwin handed her something. His card, Taylor assumed, and they bid the girl goodbye.

Out in the yard, Baldwin ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. Taylor saw a glint of silver deep in the black, a precursor to the more salt than pepper look he’d obviously have in a few years. He had a few strands starting in his temples already; this streak was new.

“I’ve got the address for Anderson. She mails him a money order biweekly to cover the rent. She just lost a baby. You were right, the boyfriend kicked her in the stomach a few days ago, she miscarried yesterday. Didn’t miss her shift at work though. She said she couldn’t afford to skip work. Poor girl.”

Marcus leaned against his car. “Are we going to go pick him up?”

“You betcha,” Taylor replied. “Let’s go.”

Judge Sophia Bottelli was less than pleased with Taylor.

“And why didn’t you know about this alternate address for this Anderson, Lieutenant?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. This is a breaking case, moving quickly. We only discovered Anderson’s involvement less than twenty-four hours ago.” C’mon, Judas Kiss

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lady, just initial the fucking amendment to the warrantand let’s be done with it. Quit busting my chops, time’sa-wasting. She couldn’t say that, of course, there’d be no surer way to a cell for contempt charges if she spoke aloud. You’re being bitchy to the bench, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. But jeez, busting her balls wasn’t helping things.

“I trust that this is the last time I’ll be hearing from you about this warrant, Lieutenant. I’ll have it faxed with my signature. But no more. I expect to see results from you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Your Honor.”

Actually, Taylor kind of liked Judge Bottelli. She was tough as nails, but so far had treated them fairly. She’d see what time brought. Obviously her fall from grace earlier in the week was still fresh on the minds of Nashville’s judicial branch. Damn it. She was going to be rebuilding herself for quite some time. The Oompa’s overreaction in stripping her of her badge would have lasting effects.

The fax machine spit out a single sheet of paper.

“Got it,” Taylor yelled. No more time to feel sorry for herself. It was time to roll.

She hustled out to the homicide office. Marcus and Lincoln were in consultation, Baldwin standing behind them, leaning in with interest.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing yet,” Lincoln answered. “I’m working on something, but if it doesn’t pan out, I don’t want to waste your time. Go snatch up Anderson before he gets wind of your imminent arrival.” He nodded once at Baldwin, then left the room.

Taylor looked at Baldwin, who threw his hands up in the air. “I know nothing. Let’s go.”

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The drive to East Nashville only took five minutes. As they turned onto Eighth Avenue North, the leafy street filled with restored Victorian homes, Taylor shook her head.

“You realize that he lives one block away from Betsy Lerner, our Lieutenant in Sex Crimes? He must be using a false name.”

Baldwin shook his head. “He isn’t. Marcus pulled the records while you were talking to the judge. The property rolls for this address have him listed as owner, but he had a cosigner on the loan, so that name is primary.”

“What’s the cosigner’s name?”

“Antonio Giormanni.”

Taylor expertly whipped the vehicle into a parallel spot that didn’t look large enough for their sedan, then slammed the car into park and turned in her seat.

“I am going to spit nails in about two seconds.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve met the son of a bitch. Though he uses the name Tony Gorman in public. Baldwin, I have been played. Royally played. Tony Gorman and Henry Anderson are buddies, and hoo-boy, I have been played to the fucking hilt.”

She banged her hands against the steering wheel. Marcus came to her door. She put the window down.

“Antonio Giormanni is listed as the co-owner of this house,” she said. “Does that name sound familiar?”

Marcus looked at her for a long moment, then smacked his hand against the roof of the car. “Tony Gorman?”

“Exactly.”

“No wonder we couldn’t get anything good on him. Judas Kiss

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He’s using false names. The Tony Gorman is a legit ID, that’s what he’s registered in Tennessee’s DMV system as, the property rolls too. That’s how we picked him up. Wow, they’ve got some kind of vendetta against you, don’t they, LT?”

“Excuse me,” Baldwin cut in. “Care to give me a clue what you’re talking about?”

Taylor was shaking her head, a smile on her face that wasn’t borne of amusement.

“Tony Gorman manhandled me at a charity dinner earlier this week. Called me Tawny. That’s how we got to the sex tapes on Selectnet. This entire wild-goose chase was engineered, up to and including me getting my badge pulled. Though I’m guessing they thought their handiwork was good enough that it would be permanent, or that I’d slink away with my tail between my legs and resign from the shame. Oh, they are going to regret the day they were born.”

She got out of the car with fury in the pit of her stomach. The last laugh would be hers.

Baldwin looked at Marcus. “We might want to go after her. She looks like she could burn down the whole neighborhood if we don’t get her calmed down.”

Marcus laughed. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. You know how she is when she’s fired up. A train couldn’t stop her. I wouldn’t be laying money on Anderson surviving this one.”

They started after her. As they crossed the street, Marcus called in to Lincoln, asked him to execute a warrant for Antonio Giormanni ASAP, and to get him picked up. Lincoln put the pieces together immediately, cursed and promised to handle things on his end. Baldwin signaled he wanted to talk to Lincoln. After a 368

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few moments, he hung up, and they caught up with Taylor.

“You ready to do this?” Baldwin asked her.

“You know it. Let’s take this fucker down.” She unholstered her weapon and went to the door. Banged on it like she’d done at Anderson’s other house. “Police!

Open the door.”

Open sesame, she thought. The door was opened immediately and a familiar face stood in the doorway. Michelle Harris looked completely and utterly shocked. Her face went white, and she moved on instinct, away from the brandished weapon Taylor had in her right hand, pointed right at her. She turned to flee. Taylor took three steps after her and got a handful of her hair, yanked her to a stop.

“Ow!” Michelle screamed.

“Shut up!” Taylor screamed right back at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Thirty-Eight

Baldwin was through the door now, Marcus too. Taylor looked at both of them, released Michelle’s hair.

“Where is Henry Anderson?”

“He’s upstairs, taking a shower. What in the world are you doing here? And why are you looking for Henry?” Though she sounded genuinely shocked, Taylor wasn’t falling for it. She knew that Michelle Harris wasn’t here by accident.

“I’ll get him,” Marcus said, charging up the oak staircase. Baldwin followed right on his heels. Taylor steered Michelle by the arm, settled her roughly on a cinnamon-colored leather couch in what could best be described as a den. Dark wood, bookshelves lining the walls—there was a fleeting impression of beauty, but the irony of the situation was too strong. She blocked everything out but Michelle’s horror-stricken face.

“Why are you here? What is your connection to Anderson?” she peppered.

“Duh. He’s my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for 370

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over a year. What’s it to you? Why are you here? What do you want from Henry? He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?”

Taylor stayed standing, looming over Michelle.

“You are dating Henry Anderson. You’re kidding me, right?” Baldwin had sidled up beside her.

“Marcus has Anderson cuffed and in custody, has him Mirandized with me as a witness. Patrols are on their way to execute the search warrant. He’s lawyered up.”

“You arrested Henry? For what?”

“Oh, let’s see, Baldwin, what all do we have him on?

Child pornography, for starters. Libel, slander, breaking parole, falsifying information about his whereabouts to the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations, falsifying his information on the sexual offenders database. That’s just for starters, I’m sure the D.A.’s office will have an indictment the length of my arm when they get done with him. Federal and state charges. Your Henry is going away for a long time. Oh, and there’s that other pesky little thing. Your sister’s murder.”

Michelle shook her head, swatting her hand in front of her face like she was shooing away a bee. “Wait, wait, wait. Todd killed Corinne. You arrested him. All the evidence pointed right at him. They are working on a trial date, for God’s sake. Henry has never met my sister in his life. There’s no way he could be involved. And what are you talking about, the sexual offenders’

database? Henry isn’t a sex offender. I live here, you think I could miss it if he had a problem?”

“You’re so sure about that, Michelle?”

Taylor heard the boots of the additional patrol Judas Kiss

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officers arriving. The house was quickly teeming with officers. Henry Anderson was already stashed in the back of a patrol car, awaiting a ride down to the CJC. Taylor hadn’t even seen him brought out of his house. She stowed the disappointment, there was plenty of time to deal with him.

Michelle met Taylor’s gaze without flinching. “Yes, I am sure. I’d like to see Henry now,” she answered. She might as well have been sucking on ice cubes, the words were so cold.

Jesus. The woman didn’t have a clue. How was that possible? Her lover was a full-time video pimp, running a massive, diverse organization of smut, and she didn’t know? Taylor found that extremely hard to believe.

“Why don’t you come downtown with us, Michelle. You can tell me more about Henry.”

Taylor reached for Michelle’s arm. It was one step too far. Michelle snatched her arm away and turned on Taylor so swiftly that three weapons were drawn.

“You know, I trusted you. That first day, in Mrs. Manchini’s living room, when you’d just come from Corinne’s house. All I saw was a kind woman, a woman I could trust to bring justice for Corinne. Now look at you. Tilting at windmills, discredited, demeaned. You’re the laughingstock of Nashville, you know that? Can’t even keep your own playthings off the air. Not to mention solve a predictable murder. Henry told me what you did to him. I hate you, you…you… SLUT!”

Michelle stormed out of the room, leaving Taylor stunned.

She’d only focused on one line in Michelle’s tirade. 372

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The laughingstock of Nashville?

Could that be true?

Stop it, girl. Look at the source. Michelle was obvi- ously disturbed. First her sister is murdered, then she finds out her boyfriend is a liar. If anything, she was the sad case here. She’s having an awfully tough week. Just wait until she finds out her beloved boyfriend was banging her dead sister. Might make me a little testy, too.

Taylor swallowed hard, then followed Michelle out the front door of Anderson’s home. One way or another, it was time for some answers.

Thirty-Nine

Taylor was in Interrogation two, Henry Anderson across from her. He’d aged since she last saw him. The close-cropped hair was prematurely white, his skin tanned but starting to go crepey around his eyes and mouth, his teeth flashing under a still black goatee. He still had those icy green eyes too, the ones that made her so uncomfortable all those years ago when she was putting the cuffs around his wrists the very first time. The eyes that distracted her just long enough for him to try to escape. Back then, she didn’t know the difference between lust and hate. She wasn’t intimately familiar with the seductiveness of evil. Now she was. And there was no question which emotion Anderson was feeling right now.

Hate was probably too gentle a word. Absolute and complete abhorrence, that was a better description of the daggers he was shooting at her.

“You know, bitch, I’m gonna be out on bail before you finish sucking your boyfriend’s dick tonight.”

“Henry, shut up.” Miles Rose was seated next to 374

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Anderson, looking decidedly less jovial than when he was last in the room with Todd Wolff.

Taylor’s opinion of Rose had shifted one hundred and eighty degrees. Rose was on the direct retainer of The September Group, Henry Anderson’s umbrella company that housed his illicit video empire. Selectnet was just one of the companies he operated, staying anonymous through multiple layers of business bullshit.

It was a damn shame Henry Anderson was such a lowlife criminal. If he were straight, he could be president.

“You still like your pussy licked, Lieutenant? I always liked watching those boys go down on you. Hard to come that way for you though, isn’t it? Givin’

up too much control, I expect. ’Cept for with that new boy. He’s quite the artiste, if you know what I mean. That why you’re marryin’ him? He makes you cream?”

Rose had the decency to blush. “That is enough, Henry.”

“No, Miles, it’s fine. This is the only way Henry can get off.” Taylor met the frosty eyes. “Isn’t it, Henry? I should have known you’d be a watcher. Still having those impotency issues? Hit or miss, huh? Poor thing. Though I guess that works out well for Michelle Harris, doesn’t it? She’s not that into men anyway. Since you aren’t much of a threat in the bedroom, that must be a sweet setup for you. You have a pretty woman to give you legitimacy, and you don’t have to get it up for her. Did she ask you why?”

“Lieutenant, I think that’s enough from you, too.”

Miles tapped his hand on the table, palm down. The slap echoed, but it didn’t work. Taylor’s and Henry’s Judas Kiss

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eyes were locked, pure venom shooting from his, something akin to gloating streaming back from hers. Taylor held Henry’s gaze for a heartbeat longer, then smiled. “Hope it doesn’t hurt too bad, Henry. Do you have that phantom limb pain when you can’t get it up? Tch. Sorry about that. I might have gotten a bit carried away way back when. Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked you in the balls when you tried to run. But I see you’ve found new and different ways to inflict pain. Apparently you didn’t need to use your prick to screw people. Too bad you blew it again.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am golden.”

“You’re shit. We have everything. The whole setup. Every company, all the records. All the videos, all the studios. Todd Wolff gave you up. And you just admitted, on tape, mind you, that you’ve seen the videos.”

Anderson leaned back in his chair. If he wasn’t cuffed to the table, he would have crossed his arms in nonchalance. “Pppft. Little pussy knows nothing. Though I will miss that little wife of his. She was quite a piece of ass. Had her every which way from Sunday, and then some.”

“Too bad your son died with her.”

“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about, Lieutenant. I’m impotent, remember?”

“Intermittently. You forget, I was there at the hospital after you took my boot in the crotch. The doctors specifically said that you’d have trouble getting it up and keeping it up, but that time would heal the wound. Since you’d been fucking Corinne Wolff, I assume the old adage is true.”

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There was finally a small degree of wariness in Anderson’s eyes.

“You’re saying that kid was mine?”

“DNA doesn’t lie, Henry. Yes, the baby was your son. Shouldn’t have killed her. You robbed yourself of a chance for an heir.”

“I didn’t kill her. The boy was mine?” Anderson had gotten still. My God, Taylor thought, he actually had feelings for Corinne.

“Tell me how it worked, Henry. How you slept with one sister and lived with the other. I don’t understand.”

“Henry,” Miles warned.

“This doesn’t matter, Miles. I refuse to let them try to pin Corinne’s murder on me.” He turned back to Taylor. “Yes, I lived with Michelle. She knows nothing about any of this. Corinne and I kept things quiet. Very quiet. I loved her.”

“I didn’t know that was an emotion you could feel, Henry.”

“Fuck you, cop. You don’t know anything about me.” He turned his head away and Taylor could have sworn she’d seen a tear. But Henry was done talking. When she realized he wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming, she turned off the tape recorder.

“You’re right, Henry. Todd doesn’t have all the details. But he had nothing to lose, testifying against you costs him nothing. He’ll probably get special consideration for Corinne’s murder, come to think of it. Since he’s been so helpful and all. No, it wasn’t all Todd.”

“What are you talking about, bitch?”

This time, when she smiled, she stood up. “What, you think I’m going to lay out the whole case against Judas Kiss

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you? You can worry about that all the way to court. And you’ll be quite the star in prison this time, Henry. I heard they called you Henrietta last time.”

She ignored him when he lunged at her, knew the shackles attached to the table would hold. Turning her back on Henry Anderson felt good. Ever since she’d gotten a little overzealous with him all those years ago, had to stomp on his private parts, she’d harbored a slight sense of guilt for hurting him so badly. That emotion was gone.

“Bye, Henry.”

When the door shut behind her, she let out the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. She went two doors down the hall.

“Did we get enough?” she asked the rest of her team, who’d crowded into the observation/printer room to watch the interrogation.

Baldwin was the one who answered. “Yep. Like you said, he openly admitted to seeing your tapes. The voice prints should be perfect, you captured a range of emotions. This will seal the deal with the videotape of you and David Martin, the voice on the tape can be digitally matched to the spliced voice and we’ve got yet another charge to hang on him, and another example of how your good name was falsely besmirched.”

“Besmirched. I like that word.”

They shared a smile, then Lincoln cleared his throat.

“Oh for God’s sake, you two need to get a room.”

Laughter rang out, which helped. Taylor felt dirty after her meeting with Anderson. He’d always known just the right things to say to get under her skin. It was the reason she’d lost her temper with him all those years ago, kicked him in the nuts so hard that they 378

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ascended and had to be surgically fixed. The odds of him fathering a child were exceptionally slim, and Taylor caught herself before she felt bad about his loss of a son. Her grief was reserved for the baby, a child that never had a chance to live because his parents were idiots.

Antonio Giormanni was being indicted as they spoke, but was cutting a sweet deal with the D.A. to testify fully against Henry Anderson. Todd Wolff, still swearing up and down that he didn’t kill his wife, was also getting some consideration in exchange for his testimony. It was going to be a long, convoluted trial, but Taylor had every confidence that the state would throw Henry away for life this time.

As everyone made plans to get drinks at Mulligan’s Pub, down on 2nd Avenue, she wished she had that last little bit of the puzzle. Direct causal verification of Corinne’s murderer. They’d get it sooner or later, but she’d prefer it sooner.

Everyone split up to do the last-minute items that needed to be addressed before they could call this a day. A successfully solved case, on several different levels. She straightened all the papers in her office. She answered a couple of e-mails. She placed the last items in the murder book, Corinne Wolff’s autopsy photos juxtaposed with a photo of her and Todd on their wedding day, lifted from the front table in their foyer. The woodsy background looked especially green tonight, Corinne a luminous wood sprite in white. What an incredible waste.

And that precious little girl, Hayden. A thought hit her. Hayden’s blond hair, so different from her parents’

dark. What if Anderson had fathered Hayden as well?

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It was a long shot, but Taylor wrote the idea on a Postit note and stuck it to the inside of the murder book. It didn’t really matter if Anderson was Hayden’s father, but it might help with the timeline. There were plenty of details to be ironed out, the case still needed to be properly prepared before going to trial. There were no guarantees in today’s judicial system. She heaved a sigh.

A soft knocking made her look up. Baldwin stood in the door, Lincoln behind him.

“Come on in,” she said. “I’m ready, I was just putting a couple of notes in the files so I don’t forget. I could use a Guinness, I’ll tell you that.”

“We might have to hold off on that a moment.”

Lincoln had that look, that “I found something you’ve got to see” look that he only got when he had something explosive to tell her. Her stomach dropped. She took her hair out of the ponytail, then put it back up. “God, don’t tell me. More tapes?”

“No. Nothing bad for you.” He smiled and sat in the chair opposite her. Baldwin stayed standing in the doorway.

“Spill. I’m out of patience today, Linc.”

“Michelle Harris has a juvenile record. A sealed juvenile record.”

Taylor’s heart thumped twice, resetting its rhythm for a faster pace.

“For what? Did you get them unsealed?”

“I did, but Baldwin had to help. It was a federal case.”

“Michelle Harris was charged with a federal felony when she was a kid?”

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“Not exactly. She was raped. When she was fourteen. By a really bad guy who was a serial rapist, preyed on young women in Connecticut. That’s why it was so hard to get, the records are tied up in a completely separate state’s jurisdiction as well as with the FBI. Because this guy transported some of his victims across state lines, the FBI was able to level kidnapping charges against him. But he slipped the net. Got off in court on a bogus technicality. I could go into details, but let’s fast forward to why. He slips the noose and goes out to get himself some play.

“He found them at summer camp. Tennis camp. Michelle was fourteen. We don’t have all the details, but on the night he raped her, Michelle managed to kill him.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It’s a wild story. He raped her, left her, and instead of reporting it, she followed him. He went to a bar, she waited on him. He came out drunk, she took advantage of the situation. Lured him behind the bar, took care of business.”

“How?” Taylor asked.

“With a piece of steel pipe. She beat him to death.”

Forty

Taylor 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 382

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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.”

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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 384

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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, Judas Kiss

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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.