“Funk? I’d be more inclined to label it clinical depression.”
“You may be right. Working can only do him good. We’re throwing him a lifeline here, Taylor. Don’t think he doesn’t know it. He may be a wreck, but he still has a bit of pride left. Give him the files and let him look them over. Encourage his ideas. I don’t want you babysitting. We can throw him the life preserver, but if he won’t hold on, it’s not our fault. Got it?”
She huffed out a sigh in silent protest. “Got it.” She grew quiet for a moment. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the Martin case, does it? Oversight until the rest of them are on trial?”
Price looked at her in surprise. “No. Why would you think that?”
“I just didn’t want there to be any confusion. In the squad, I mean.”
Price gave her a gentle smile. “I understand. No, we can’t have it look like you’re being undermined in any way. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure everyone knows that this is a deal for me. No one will think he’s being brought on to watch your back.”
She waved the comments away, embarrassed to have even brought it up. One day, she’d stop thinking everyone, even those who’d been her biggest supporters, like Price, was holding the shooting against her.
“I was just asking. Forget I mentioned it.”
“Taylor, I know things aren’t easy for you right now. Just be secure in the knowledge you did the right thing. I wouldn’t have you on my team if I didn’t think you had.”
Taylor blushed. It was amazing how Price could read her mind.
“Back to Baldwin—what is the problem that’s driven him into this state?” she asked.
Price looked around the tiny office, trying to make a decision. Finally, he said, “Look, Taylor, I think that’s going to be his story to tell you. He may or he may not, so I wouldn’t push it.”
“What about the boys? What am I supposed to tell them about this?”
“That we are honored to have one of the FBI’s best on our side.”
“Oh, come on, Price. You really want me to pretend in front of them? They’ll pick it up quick enough that the guy’s on the edge; they’re cops, they’ve seen it before.”
“Yeah, well, give them some credit. They’ve got softer hearts than you.”
She forced out a smile. “Gee, thanks. Nicest compliment I’ll get all week. Cold, heartless bitch, that’s me.”
“I can’t imagine anything further from the truth.”
“All right, I’ll give this a shot. But I’m not promising anything.”
“Good girl. I appreciate it.”
“Sexist.” She grinned at her boss, then left the office, wondering what had driven John Baldwin to her doorstep.
And what, exactly, he had been told about her.
Twenty-Four
Retrieving a Diet Coke, she came back into the squad room to find the man in question sitting on the edge of her desk, his own soda in hand, looking slightly more awake than fifteen minutes prior. The rest of the detectives were giving him a wide berth, neither threatening nor welcoming. They looked at her with ill-concealed curiosity on their faces.
“Okay, pals, Fingerprints-R-Us is on the case.” Her attempt at levity made Baldwin cringe, but she ignored it. He’d have to get used to it; they rolled hard on her team.
“This is Dr. John Baldwin, late of the BSU in grand ole’ Quantico. He’ll be joining us as a consultant to work the murders of Shelby Kincaid and Jordan Blake. Let’s make him some room, get him briefed, and let him look over the files. Cool with you, Doctor?”
He shot her a look she couldn’t quite define, but didn’t take it as kindly. He took a deep breath and half smiled. “Please, everyone calls me Baldwin.”
“Baldwin, then. Let’s get you acquainted with the rest of the team. Lincoln Ross, our resident computer geek. AFIS, ViCAP, CODIS, any database you want, he’s your man.” Lincoln nodded graciously.
“Pete Fitzgerald, forensics. He only answers to Fitz, isn’t that right?”
“You got it. Welcome aboard.” He stuck out a hand, smiled genially, but Taylor could see him coolly appraising their newest member.
“Marcus Wade, our rookie. He’s only been with the team for a few months, he’s still getting his feet wet.”
Marcus smiled hugely. He was a good-looking kid, innocence and sensuality rolled into one. He could probably get information out of people no one else could. Charm and good looks could be disarming.
“I’m wet behind the ears, too. It’s nice to meet you.”
Baldwin felt odd being the center of attention. It had been a long time since so many people were staring at him as if he held the Rosetta stone in his hands. “It’s good to meet you all. I promise not to be in the way.”