“Despite the article printed in The Tennessean this morning, our sources have confirmed that there has been no identification of the female body found overnight at St. Catherine’s Church. According to a spokesperson from Forensic Medical, the male victim has been positively identified as Father Francis Xavier, a recent transfer from the Boston Archdiocese.”
“Go, Sam!” Taylor threw her pen at the TV. She picked up the paper and stuck her tongue out at the headline. The tension dissipated for a moment.
Price chose that moment to return to the office to find his detectives laughing their heads off.
“I’d really like to know what’s so damn funny,” he said indignantly. The tone of his voice was too much, and the gales of laughter started again. Price tried to look stern, but giggled a bit himself; they were all getting punchy from the lack of sleep and the pressure of the case, but he quickly sobered them up.
“Okay, kids, knock it off. Has anyone slept?”
There were headshakes all around.
“Taylor, are you heading over to the ME’s office for the post of our burn victims?”
“Yep, I’m going now. Baldwin, do you want to come?”
“Yes, I’d like to be there.” He stood up and grabbed his coat.
“Wait,” Price said. “Baldwin, I’d like to speak to you, if I may.”
Taylor and Baldwin shot each other a look, and he put his coat back down. She gave Baldwin a smile, and a look he read as see you later. He nodded back.
“Absolutely, Captain.” They went into Price’s office, the door closing behind them.
Taylor stared at the door for a moment, chewed on her lip, then turned and grabbed Marcus by the hand.
“C’mon, puppy, let’s go see Sam.”
Marcus said, “I’m sure Fitz would rather go on out there with you, Taylor. I probably should man the desk for all the missing person calls. Or maybe head home and take a shower?”
Taylor looked at Fitz, who yawned widely and smiled at her. “Sure, love, whatever you need.”
Taylor saw the strain on their faces, how tired they all were. They were no good to her like this. “Okay, change of plans. Lincoln, Fitz, Marcus, I want all three of you to go home and get a few hours of sleep. Nothing is going to happen until we find out if this is Jill Gates’s body. Report back at one.”
Marcus looked as if he was going to kiss her. “Thanks, LT. I could swing by your place and pick up something for you, bring it back when I come in, if you want.”
His subtle hint that she needed to clean up wasn’t lost on her. She looked down at her smoke-smudged shirt and jeans, smiling ruefully. “That’s sweet of you, Marcus, but I’ve got a change in my locker, and I’ll grab a shower at Sam’s. Go on now, before I change my mind.”
47
Sam fiddled with a scalpel, turning the blade over and over in her hands. She sat in her office with the sunlight streaming through the window, a cup of cold tea at her elbow. She’d been so lost in thought she’d forgotten to drink it. The sun was a welcome respite after the days of rain the area had been flooded with; the water tables were dropping and the minor floodwaters receding. Nashville would heal itself. She hoped she could do the same.
She had gone home the night before feeling overwhelmed and a bit lost. The scene at the church had gotten to her more than she wanted to admit. She figured a hot bath and a glass of wine would settle her nerves.
But when she opened the door there was soft music playing, roses on the table in the foyer, and a delicious smell coming from her kitchen. Smiling, she followed her nose and found Simon Loughley standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing an apron and conducting the symphonic CD playing with a spatula. The scene was so absurd she burst out laughing. He started, then smiled sheepishly and gave her a hug. He was tall and thin, and she could feel his collarbones poking her in the cheek. His sandy hair was too long, his glasses were askew, but his blue eyes sparkled, showing the depths of his patience and good humor. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone cuter.
“I hope it’s not too late for you?”
“I’ll take midnight margaritas with you anytime.”
“It’s wine, does that work?”
“Of course. Let me change and we can dig in.”