Glancing up and down the street, Taylor realized there were posters tacked in all the store windows and stapled over the latest band announcements on the telephone poles. She felt sick to her stomach. She’d just seen Jill Gates, and she didn’t look anything like the smiling woman in the picture.
She didn’t know how she managed to make it to the table; her legs were wobbly, her vision blackening. She felt the chair slide in under her, heard Baldwin order her a Diet Coke, but nothing was registering. She tried to breathe, but the panic attack was on her. She bent at the waist, trying not to faint.
She had no idea how long it took her to get it back together. She heard Baldwin muttering softly in her ear and realized he was sitting in the chair next to her, holding on for dear life. She was mortified to have fallen apart in front of him, not to mention in such a public venue. She drew in a few gulps of air. Her head started to clear, and she sat up. Baldwin let her go and leaned back into his chair, his eyes full of concern.
“You okay?”
She nodded. Her breathing was returning to normal, and she opened her eyes, shocked to see how scared Baldwin looked. She gave him a weak smile and tried to make a joke.
“You’ve never seen a southern belle have a fainting spell?”
“That was no fainting spell, Taylor. You had a nice, full-blown panic attack. This happen a lot?”
“Can we not talk about this here? I’m fine.” She’d recovered enough to take a drink of the soda in front of her. Great, the waitress had seen the whole thing too. But when she looked behind her, the woman was standing at the kitchen door cracking jokes with the dishwasher. Thank God.
“You don’t look fine, Taylor.”
“Baldwin, let it go, okay?” Her voice rose and she sounded ridiculous to herself. Of course he’d recognize a panic attack; he was a psychiatrist after all. Which meant he’d want to get to the bottom of it. She just wasn’t up for analysis right now. She gave a conciliatory smile. “I’m fine, really. Just too much caffeine, not enough sleep, and I’m coming down with something. Inner ear’s all messed up. I need to get some antibiotics or something. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
He still looked doubtful, but took a deep breath and backed off. She’d talk about it in her own time. “Okay. What do you want to eat?”
“A lot. I’m starved.”
The waitress came back, and Taylor thought she could see concern on her face, but she was all business, taking their orders and bustling off.
Baldwin wanted to defuse the moment, so he tried a different tack.
“I knew you in high school, you know.”
“What?” Taylor was shocked. She knew most everyone she’d attended school with. And she’d figured Baldwin was in his late forties. She gave him a good once over, and decided he was definitely younger than that. Years had melted off in the past few days. She could now see he was much closer to her own age.
“I transferred in to Father Ryan my senior year. You were a sophomore, I think. Pretty little thing.”
She blushed. “I can’t believe I don’t remember you. I always hung out with the older crowd. Sam was dating Simon Loughley. He’s the guy that runs Private Match. He was a senior when we were sophomores. Did you know him?”
“Knew of him. I kept to myself a lot.”
“Why’d you transfer in so late? Where were you before?” Taylor realized she was anxious to learn more of Baldwin’s background. She blamed it on simple southern nosiness, but knew she was trying to get closer, to figure him out.
A brief look of pain shadowed his face. “My folks died my junior year. Car accident. We lived over by Old Hickory Lake. My aunt was on the west side of town. She took me in and moved schools on me. I wasn’t too thrilled about it, but I didn’t have much of a choice. She was trying to do what was best for me.” He took a long drink of water, and the smile returned. “She was a crazy old bat, kept after me constantly. I loved her, though, and respected her wish to see me complete my education, just like my parents wanted. She pushed me from Father Ryan into a college in Virginia, Hampden-Sydney.”
“I know of it. All boys, right?”
“Yep. I met a psych teacher there I liked, and he suggested I go on to med school. So I hit up Johns Hopkins, they accepted, then I got the JD to go with the MD and the other degrees, and here I am.”
“Where’d you go to law school?”
“George Washington. That’s how I got into the FBI, actually. I met Garrett Woods, my old boss, at a symposium on campus. He recruited me hard, and it seemed like it would be fun. So I joined up, did my fieldwork, and he pulled me into the BSU after a few years. That’s where it all went downhill.” He realized he’d been babbling, so he tried to turn it around. “What about you? Where’d you end up?”
“Criminal justice at University of Tennessee in Knoxville. My parents were so proud.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. “Having their only child run off to be a cop was the last thing they wanted. Oh my God, I completely forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
She shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing. My father called me a couple of days ago. With the case and all, I managed to block it out.”