Текст книги "Judas Kiss"

Автор книги: J. T. Ellison

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Why didn’t you arrest him?”

“I thought about it, but if he was truly mistaking me for someone else, I had no cause. He was just an overzealous jerk. Not a prison offense, you know? But he won’t forget meeting me anytime soon. I got him in a forearm lock and he tried to get away. Another few seconds and I would’ve snapped his arm in two. I bet he’s got a nice bruise this morning too.” She slipped her arm back into the sleeve of her sweater, pulled it down.

“I’ll find out what his deal is, Taylor. You can count on it.”

“Thanks, Marcus. Let me know when you find something. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a mistake.” Her words were stronger than her mind. Gorman had looked at her like he knew her intimately; she had the distinct feeling that there was more to the sexy moniker than met the eye. Either she had a doppelganger out there plying her wares, or something was up. Combine that with the dead rabbit from this morning…. 166

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Marcus was just outside the door. She called after him. “Marcus, one other thing?”

He turned back. “Sure, what?”

“Have Tim Davis take a run out to my house. Someone left me a present in my backyard this morning, a dead rabbit. It had been garroted. I secured the remains. Ask him to run some forensics on it for me, okay?”

Marcus came back into the office, eyes filled with concern. “Someone killed a rabbit and left it in your backyard? Are you sure it wasn’t caught in a snare and flailed into your yard?”

Taylor saw the desecrated creature in her mind’s eye, gray and red commingled, the wound ends of the silver wire thrusting out of its neck. A shudder ran through her.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Marcus was eyeing her. She could see the speculation rampant behind his gaze. He shut the door and sat opposite her.

“Is everything okay, boss? You seem a little…”

She pulled the rubber band from her hair impatiently and slung it back up. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a long couple of days, and someone is playing a sick joke on me. That’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She gave him a winning smile, but he didn’t smile back. He just nodded and rose, looking at her with obvious concern.

“I’ll let you know what we find, okay?”

“Thanks, Marcus.” She hesitated a moment. “While you’re at it, put a trap on my line. I’ve been getting hang-ups. I’m sure it’s just someone trying to make me Judas Kiss

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uncomfortable.” When he started to speak again, she just shook her head. He stared at her, but kept his mouth shut.

After he’d left, she looked at the phone. She really should call Baldwin, let him know everything that was going on. She toyed with the phone receiver, her hand tracing figure eights on the smooth black surface. The phone lit up, the caller ID indicating the call was from Forensic Medical. There was plenty of time to call Baldwin and play damsel in distress. Later.

“Lieutenant Jackson,” she answered, her voice strong once again.

“Taylor, it’s Sam. I’ve got something you need to hear about Corinne Wolff.”

Fifteen

Taylor listened to Sam, writing down the words to make sure she had the record in front of her, then hung up the phone. She toyed with the cord for a moment, wondering. On its face, the news wasn’t anything significant. But considering the victim’s previous delicate condition, it was…interesting.

More questions for Todd. Taylor glanced at her watch. Ten thirty-five.

“Oh, shit.” She scrambled up from the desk, bringing along the yellow notepad with her scribbles. She was already five minutes late to her third interview with him.

Taylor met Fitz outside interrogation one. He gestured for her to follow him into the printer room where they had the camera feed from the interrogation rooms. The antiquated television monitor was on, the cameras rolling, capturing the movements of the two men ensconced in the room. Todd Wolff had brought a lawyer this time, not willing to make the same Judas Kiss

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mistake twice. They were sitting side by side at the table, each man sitting with his arms crossed across his chest, not speaking. They looked impatient, slightly annoyed, and worried. Perfect.

Taylor watched for a moment. “Look at Wolff. He looks nervous, don’t you think?”

“He doesn’t look happy, I’ll give you that.”

Taylor pulled her hair down, reworking the ponytail.

“I just talked to Sam. We’ve got some interesting items to discuss with Mr. Wolff.”

“Well, the hotel he claimed to have stayed at said he wasn’t there over the weekend. So he’s got one whopper of a lie in the bank already.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Can the cell phone company triangulate where he was when he got the call?”

“There’s a warrant being drawn up as we speak.”

Fitz looked at the monitors again. “Think he’s responsible?”

“I don’t know. I want to gauge his reaction to this information Sam just gave me, see what he gives us.”

“Then let’s get this over with, shall we?” Fitz gestured toward the door. Taylor nodded and knocked, rapping her knuckles along the wood for effect, then entered the close room.

The lawyer jumped to his feet, hand out expectantly, a broad smile across his swarthy features. He had thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a thick bridge of a nose that amply supported a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. His eyes were slightly bulbous, irises blue but whites bloodshot, whether from too much alcohol the night before or stupendous allergies, Taylor couldn’t tell. He pumped her hand, asked if she was well, 170

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greeted Fitz, all in a capable, no-nonsense way. Then he sneezed, ah…ah…ah-chooing with gusto into a white embroidered handkerchief. That explained the eyes, Taylor thought.

“Miles Rose. Good to meetcha.”

Todd Wolff barely acknowledged their presence. She studied him. Was he grieving, and too distressed to play nice? Or was he upset to be treated like a suspect? Taylor couldn’t tell. Wolff had completely shut down since their last conversation.

They got situated, Fitz and Taylor on one side of the table, Rose getting resettled in his makeshift office on the other side with Todd staring silently at the wall. Taylor watched Rose decant his briefcase onto the table, waited patiently while he chose a particularly fine ballpoint from his collection of pens, placed the pen on a yellow legal pad, then grinned.

“Ready,” he said.

Amused by the display, Taylor asked, “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. Got everything I need right here.” He tapped the pen to the legal pad, then touched it to his temple. She heard Fitz sigh through his nose with the utmost derision.

“Okay then.” She turned to Todd. “Mr. Wolff, I’d like to continue where we left off yesterday. We are concerned about the time frame on the day of your wife’s death. You were notified of her death while you were in Savannah, is that correct?”

Todd looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Why does that even matter? Do you have any more leads on who killed my wife and son?”

“We’re working the case from every angle, Mr. Judas Kiss

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Wolff. Trust me. Now, back to your drive home. You were in Savannah when you got the call, that’s correct?”

Wolff looked away. “That is correct.”

“And you made the trip home, an eight-hour drive, in just under six hours. That right?”

“Yes.”

“Any reason you didn’t fly? Wouldn’t that have been quicker?”

“You already asked me that.” Wolff crossed his arms.

Rose leaned into the table. “My client called the airlines, but there was nothing that didn’t connect through Atlanta. I don’t know if you’ve ever flown through Atlanta, Lieutenant, but I’m sure you’ll understand that my client didn’t want anything interfering with his return to the Nashville area.”

Taylor gave Rose the briefest of smiles, then turned back to Wolff.

“No chance you got pulled over, is there? Something to give us an actual time and place to go from?

Because I’ve made that drive, Mr. Wolff. It takes the full eight hours, even traveling at eighty miles an hour.”

Todd shook his head, glancing at Rose before he spoke. “No, I didn’t get a ticket. I was going faster than eighty, I’ll tell you that. I nearly got myself killed more than once.”

“How about a gas receipt? Big truck like yours, there’s no way you could possibly make it home from Savannah on a single tank of gas.”

“I could give you that, but I don’t save those receipts. I rely on my bank statements to tally up my gas costs.”

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When Taylor didn’t respond, Wolff quickly filled the silence. “I’ve got a gas card. That way I can keep those charges on one card to keep it all straight. I can get deductions on my taxes, you know. So yeah, I stopped in a little town…I can’t remember the name of it now. But I’m sure I can find the information once my statement comes.” He smiled for the first time, satisfied with his answer.

“That’s great, Mr. Wolff. We’ve already pulled all of your financials, so we’ll be able to get that answer right now.” She leaned back toward the corner, where a small table sat with a phone. She stabbed at a button, then hit speaker. Marcus’s voice rang through the room.

“What can I get you, LT?”

“I need the bank statements for Mr. Wolff analyzed. Please look for charges specific to his gas card so we can see the stops at gas stations on the day in question. He says he stopped in a little town, but can’t remember the name. Any chance you could ID the place for me, so we can check that out?”

“Sure thing, LT. I’ll get back to you in a minute.”

She clicked the speaker off and looked at Todd Wolff’s vividly white face.

“Was it something I said?” she asked.

“I just, I didn’t realize, I…” He trailed off. Rose jumped in. “This is highly irregular, Lieutenant. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen—”

“Stow it, Mr. Rose. This is hardly irregular. Mr. Wolff is lying to us, and I’d like to know why.” Taylor ignored Rose sputtering and hand-wringing, instead focusing on Todd.

“Todd, when was the last time you had sex with your wife?”

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Todd’s eyes got round. “What does that have to do with anything?” He stopped, and Taylor could see his mind whirling along the process. He became rigid in his chair.

“Oh, my God. Are you saying she was raped?”

Taylor didn’t react, just sat back in her chair and glanced at Fitz. He gave her a barely perceptible nod.

“Mr. Wolff, all I’m asking is when you last had sexual relations with your wife.”

Miles shot up a hand. “I’d like a moment to confer with my client, please.”

“It’s really not that difficult a question. Mr. Wolff, how about it? When did you and Corinne last have sexual relations?”

Todd’s head was on a pivot, swinging rhythmically between his lawyer and Taylor. She could almost hear each distinct turn.

Rose got to his feet. “Don’t answer that. Lieutenant, we need the room, please.”

She gave it a moment, then nodded. She clicked the remote, turning off the audio and video feed. They stood and went into the hall. Rose closed the door quietly behind them.

“The monitors?” Fitz asked.

“Oh, yeah.” They went into the printer room, stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the show. Too bad it was illegal for them to listen in; the sound mike remained off, the tape wasn’t rolling.

“Why’s he balking about answering the sex question?”

“Fitz, that is an excellent question. I’d like to know the answer myself. Shouldn’t be such a big deal, they were married. Granted, according to the kid brother, 174

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they’d had that huge fight, but that was a month ago. They’d probably made up. Unless…”

Taylor could tell that Rose was doing all the talking. Todd just sat, head in his hands, shoulder hunched in misery. After a few moments, Rose threw up his hands in exasperation, then looked straight into the camera, motioned for them to come back.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. Rose knew the score. They went back into the room, got settled, and Taylor hit the button to restart the tape. Rose spoke first.

“I have advised my client that unless you intend to arrest him immediately, he should no longer participate in the interrogation. My client does not agree. He wants to continue talking to you. I’ve warned him that this isn’t a good idea, but he is quite insistent. So. The floor is yours, Todd.”

Todd’s eyes were rimmed in red. He met Taylor’s gaze. “I didn’t kill my wife.”

“That wasn’t the question, Mr. Wolff. I asked when you last had sex with your wife.”

Taylor crossed her arms and waited. Todd was obviously wrestling with something. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Corinne and I hadn’t had sex for at least a week before I left town.”

“Would you be willing to take a DNA test to confirm that statement, Mr. Wolff?”

“Why do you need DNA from me? I just told you I didn’t have sex with her.”

Taylor glanced at Fitz. He read her gaze and made a note on his paper.

“Because you may or may not be telling the truth, but the tests don’t often lie. The autopsy showed that Corinne had engaged in sexual relations recently.”

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Todd stared at her hard, a muscle in his jaw working furiously. Gritting his teeth. He was trying not to react, and it was difficult for him. She found that response more interesting than denials and lies. What if he did kill his wife? Lying about the sex would be a great starting point for their evidentiary investigation. So far Todd had displayed little emotion outside of his initial despair at the loss of Corinne. But some people are natural actors. He obviously had a temper, that much was apparent right now. She decided to push a little harder, see what broke free.

“Was your wife having an affair?”

Wolff flinched. “No. Of course not. You’ve obviously made some sort of mistake. We did have sex before I left. I forgot.”

“You just told us that you hadn’t had sex for a week.”

“I was mistaken. It was the night before I left. I’m very upset, Lieutenant. Surely you can understand that. Details aren’t perfectly clear in my mind.”

“Okay, Mr. Wolff. That’s fine. We’ll arrange for that DNA test as soon as we wrap up here. Let’s talk about something else for a moment. Was your wife taking any prescription medication that you were aware of?”

The subject change caught him off guard. He sat back in his chair, eyes squinted in distrust. Then he answered.

“As far as I know, she was taking a prenatal vitamin, and some extra folic acid. She might pop some Tylenol if she had a headache or a sprain. My wife was extremely healthy. She was very careful with what she put in her body, even when she wasn’t pregnant. But if you’ve been through the house, you’ll have noticed that already.”

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The organic milk carton sitting on the counter popped into Taylor’s head. Okay, so that much was consistent, at least.

“Then would it surprise you to learn that she had a large presence of benzodiazepine in her system?”

“A benzo what?”

“A benzodiazepine called lorazepam. It’s a prescription anti-anxiety medication. Ativan is the brand name. We found a therapeutic level in her bloodstream.”

Todd was shaking his head dismissively. “There’s no way.”

“Unfortunately, there is a way. She’d been taking it for several weeks at least, according to the medical examiner’s office. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about it? She never mentioned feeling anxious, calling the doctor, getting the prescription?”

“No. There’s no way she was taking anything like that. Hell, she wouldn’t even drink a cup of coffee since she found out she was pregnant. There’s no way she knowingly took any kind of prescription drug. God, not without telling me first.”

“Who is her obstetrician?”

“Katie Walberg. At Baptist. She’s been going to her for years. They’re big buds. You can ask her, she’ll back me up. No way Corinne would do anything to jeopardize the pregnancy. If she was anxious, she would have told me. Trust me on that.” He crossed his arms again and clenched his teeth. Taylor recognized the signs. He was getting defensive, and that meant he was hiding something.

“We’ll be sure to contact Dr. Walberg this morning as well. It seems, Mr. Wolff, that your wife was doing a few things outside the scope of your knowledge. Is Judas Kiss

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there anything else you’d like to tell us before we tear your life apart? Because trust me, the more you lie, the worse this gets. There’s nothing I can do to help you if you keep lying to me. If you tell me the truth, I’ll be able to fight for you. But if you’re being dishonest with me, I won’t give you a second chance. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Todd looked her in the eye and nodded. “I’m not lying.”

“The hotel you supposedly stayed in doesn’t have any record of you over the weekend.”

Todd looked wild-eyed at his lawyer. Rose put his hand down on the table. “We’re done here, Lieutenant. Charge him, or we’re leaving.”

Taylor let a silence settle on the room before she answered. “All right. You guys sit tight. I’ll have one of our crime scene techs come take the DNA sample, and then I’m going to go talk with Dr. Walberg. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back.”

She and Fitz rose and left the two men behind.

“Wow,” Fitz said. “Nice bombshells.”

“He’s changing his story. Let’s give them some time, see if he changes it again.”

They split in the hallway, Fitz to go handle the DNA collection, Taylor to talk with Corinne’s doctor. Taylor went back to the homicide offices. Marcus was sitting at her desk, the phone to his ear. She dropped in the guest chair opposite him and waited. He was muttering into the phone, writing rapidly on a sheet of paper. After a few moments, he thanked whoever he’d been talking to so intently and hung up. He gazed at Taylor for a brief second, then handed her a sheet of paper.

“We need to arrest Todd Wolff.”

Sixteen

Taylor read the sheet Marcus handed her twice, chewing on her lower lip. Damn. Marcus was right. She needed to arrest Todd Wolff. Suspects lie about the stupidest things, and Wolff had been telling some whoppers. But not enough to push her over the edge into believing without a doubt that he’d actually killed Corinne. But this was evidence that she could use for an arrest warrant.

“Who found this?” Taylor asked.

“Tim Davis. He just faxed the report to us a few minutes ago. I called him to double-check his findings. He’s back at the Wolff residence right now, combing through the house again. He said he’d call immediately if anything else popped up.”

Taylor read through the report a third time, focusing on the line Marcus had highlighted in pink. Blood drops found in two areas of decedent’s husband’s vehicle. The first grouping of .20 centimeter diameter blood drops are collected from Judas Kiss

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the gearshift column of a 2006 Lincoln Navigator, black in color, registered to Theodore Wolff. The second grouping of .5 centimeter blood drops appears on the inside left corner of the silver built-in tool box custom made to fit the rear of the Navigator. Both areas have been collected and submitted for DNA testing, but initial examination show them to be A positive, matching the blood type of the decedent, Corinne Wolff. Well, wasn’t that just the shit. Corinne’s blood in her husband’s truck. They would need to do further testing to prove that it was actually Corinne’s blood, and there was always the chance that the blood was old, unrelated to the murder. But that would be awfully convenient. On its face, this was enough to both secure a warrant, and to convene the grand jury and to seek a true bill indicting Todd. The first step in any solid investigation, physical evidence collection, so often cut through the bullshit the criminals were spewing.

“What do you want to do?” Marcus asked, leaning back in her chair. He looked good behind her desk, she’d give him that.

Taylor drummed her fingers along the edge of frayed wood. She rarely saw this side of her desk anymore, though she’d spent years in this very chair, reporting facts to her superiors. The wood was splitting in two areas, the new damage most likely from a chair being scraped along the edge of the desk. She fingered the gashes. She liked the change; this old perspective made her feel like she was back in the trenches.

“Well, we already have Todd here. Fitz is setting him up for a DNA test. We’ll have to ask the lab to do 180

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a quick blood typing on the sample, make sure Todd isn’t A positive, then we can get the warrant prepared. Julia Page will be able to convene the grand jury session once we’ve got the blood type established. I need to do some follow-up on the drug found in Corinne’s system. You say Tim is still at the house?”

“Yes. He was going to fine-tooth everything again, just to be absolutely sure he hasn’t missed anything before we release the scene.”

The phone on Taylor’s desk rang, and Marcus read off the caller ID to her.

“Well, speak of the devil. This is Tim Davis calling you right now. Here.” He picked up the phone receiver and handed it to Taylor.

“Lieutenant Jackson,” she said into the phone.

“Hi, Lieutenant. This is Tim Davis. I’m at the Wolff crime scene, and I’ve got something I think you need to see.”

“Marcus just gave me your report on the biological evidence you’ve found in the husband’s truck. Is there more of the same in the house that we missed?”

“Oh, no ma’am, I’ve collected every bit of biological evidence that is relevant to this case. I’ve gone through the house several times, on my hands and knees in the appropriate sections. I’ve got all of that. This is something…well, you just need to see it for yourself, ma’am. It’s in the basement, ma’am.”

Tim wasn’t a fly-by-night kind of guy. If he felt that strongly that Taylor needed to attend him at the scene, that’s what she was going to do.

“I’m on my way, Tim. Hang tight.” She hung up, stood and stretched.

“Okay, Marcus, do me a favor. I need you to call Judas Kiss

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this Dr. Katie Walberg while I go out to the Wolff house. See if you can get me in to see her, today. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

Taylor grabbed an unmarked Impala and headed toward West Nashville. She crossed the Woodland Street Bridge and took the highway. It would be faster that way. As she drove, the sun disappeared, roiling black clouds building on the horizon.

Traffic was light, a pre-rush-hour reprieve. Her cell phone rang and she answered. It was Marcus.

“I’ve got a couple of things for you. First off, I talked to Dr. Walberg. She couldn’t stay on the line, she’s in the middle of a delivery. She confirmed that Corinne Wolff was a patient, but can’t release any of the records without a court order. She was real nice about it, just needed to cover her ass. I’ve put in the request. She said she’d call back after the delivery, as long as she knows the papers are in the works she’s happy to talk to you.”

“Okay. I’ll just plan to swing back by her office when I finish here.”

“You know, LT, I can do that for you. There’s no need for you to be running around doing all the legwork on this case. That is why they gave you the title, you know.”

She grinned. Marcus always knew just the right thing to say. “I know you can, Marcus, and I appreciate the offer. It feels good to be out and about, you know?”

“I know. Management definitely puts a crimp in your style. No worries, LT. I’ll handle the warrant and let them know you’re coming in, then I’ll get back to your mystery man from last night. I haven’t found 182

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anything yet, but I’m early into it. This Wolff stuff derailed my morning. I’ll let you know. Now, there’s something else. About the rabbit.”

“Oh yeah. Tim can go do it later.”

“He sent Keri McGee. She just called me. There’s no rabbit.”

“Of course there is. I saw it. I put a flowerpot over him. Did she go to the right house?”

“Yeah, she did. The flowerpot is on the side of your house, and the rabbit was gone. Maybe one of your neighbors cleaned it up thinking they were helping?”

Taylor thought about that. A logical explanation. So why was the hair on the back of her neck standing on end?

“You’re probably right, Marcus. I’m sure that’s the deal. I’ll ask around when I get home. The folks next door have a couple of dogs, they were probably making a ruckus, smelling something dead. Tell Keri thanks for trying for me.”

They hung up. Taylor took the Charlotte Avenue exit and cut through Hillwood into the Wolffs’ neighborhood. She pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked behind Tim’s Metro Crime Scene truck.

Tim was sitting on the front porch swing, unmoving, his back so straight that it didn’t make contact with the seat back. He hopped to his feet as soon as Taylor exited her vehicle.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself. Sorry to drag you back out here, but you need to see this in person before I start disassembling.”

“Disassembling what, Tim? Now that I’m here, clue me in.”

He blushed and looked away, eyes cutting to the Judas Kiss

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right. Oh, good grief. Old-fashioned Southern men, they actually believed in respecting women. Her curiosity won out over teasing him. “Fine. Just show me if you’re too embarrassed to talk about it.”

He nodded once, then whipped around and headed into the house. Taylor followed. He went directly to the basement stairs, headed down without a word. The air smelled cool and musty, similar to the day before. When they reached the bottom, Taylor saw Tim’s light rigging set up, the five-hundred-watt beam pointing to a spot on the wall.

He was talking again, his words jerking out of his mouth rapid fire. “I was moving some of the boxes, looking for anything I might have missed. A box fell off the stack here.” He pointed to a cardboard bankers’

box, the contents spilled on the concrete floor. Plastic jewel cases, the kind that house music compact discs, were spread across the floor, the flash of the silver contents catching the light from the stairwell.

“Were they bootlegging CDs? Let me guess, there’s cartons of cigarettes too. The Wolffs are working for Al-Qaeda.” Taylor threw Tim a smile to let him know she was kidding. Poor boy was so serious all the time.

“It’s worse than that, LT.” Tim walked around the spilled box and went to the back wall, the one that was painted. He knocked on the cement. Instead of making no noise, a sharp clang rang out. Raising an eyebrow at Taylor, he pushed. The entire wall swung away, opening into a dark gap.

“A secret chamber. Cool.”

Tim just shrugged in answer and disappeared into the wall. Taylor followed him. The air changed in this room, there was no must, no humidity. It smelled of Clorox. 184

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Tim hit the lights, and Taylor sucked in her breath. Her first impression was medieval torture chamber. The second was film studio. Tim stayed quiet, giving her a moment to process. There was a double bed in the center of the twelve-by-twenty-four-foot space made up with white sheets and a white down comforter. Fluffy pillows completed the ensemble. To the right was a peg board, filled from top to bottom with various…well, the only thing she could think to call them was accessories. Sex toys, whips, a dominatrix hood and rubber merry widow, gag balls, dildos, vibrators. It was a veritable sex store, all tucked neatly away in the basement of the suburban family home. Taylor had seen plenty of these accoutrements on various crime scenes. What she hadn’t seen was a sex chamber equipped with two professional video cameras, a boom, four different mikes and strategically placed lights.

“They’re making pornography?” Tim asked, the tremor in his voice belying his normally staid demeanor. Tim was horrifically discomfited, that much was evident. A good churchgoing man, he wouldn’t be a big fan of the Wolffs’ sideline.

Taylor walked around the space, looking. “Good assumption. One of them was, at least. It’s certainly possible that Todd was running the show and Corinne didn’t know, or vice versa. But I doubt that. Something this elaborate, it would be hard to hide from your spouse. I’d like to look at the boxes out there again.”

She left the room, made her way back to the boxes. She started to reach for one, then stopped. “Tim, have you printed this stuff yet?”

“No, ma’am. I just backed out and called you.”

“Are they labeled?”

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“Only with dates. They go back a few years.”

Taylor sighed. “Well, we’re gonna have to process this entire setup. I’ll poke at a couple of these discs, see if I can find anything recent.” She looked around the basement one more time. “I daresay you’ll find both Todd and Corinne’s prints down here. I want to know if you find anyone else’s.”

Taylor picked through the CDs with a pencil, selected a few at random with dates that ranged from 2005-2008, waited for Tim to print their jewel cases, then took the contents with her and started for Baptist Hospital. Tim had called in backup; it was going to take all afternoon to process the sin den, as Taylor had named the Wolffs’ playroom.

In the meantime, she still needed to speak with Corinne’s doctor.

What in the name of hell was Todd Wolff doing with a mini movie studio in the basement of his house?

And just how many more secrets could there be, hidden behind the façade of the Wolffs’ perfect life?

Seventeen

Taylor pulled under the portico entrance to Baptist Women’s Health facility, flashed her badge at the valet. He pointed to a spot at the front, and she left the car there.

The directory listed Dr. Walberg’s office on the seventh floor. She pushed the up button on the left side of a bank of elevators, the doors to one opposite her slid open. Once inside, Taylor glanced in the smooth, mirrored wall surface and cursed. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook it, turning upside down and running her fingers through as a makeshift comb. The humidity coupled with the threat of rain had created a riotous mass of baby curls around her face, which caused her hair to get wavy and stick out in all directions. She flipped back up, gathered the mess into her left hand and wound the holder back into place. She was swiping on Burt’s Bees pomegranate lip balm when the doors clanged open.

A hugely pregnant woman appeared, her belly distracting Taylor from noticing anything else about the Judas Kiss

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woman. Well, she was in the right place. Taylor held the elevator doors for her. The woman waddled in and gave her a tired smile.