Marcus suddenly lit up like a streetlamp at dusk. “Wait a sec. Are you the Dr. John Baldwin? The atypical sexual sadism guru? You worked the case in Virginia last year, the child killer who kidnapped and murdered six little girls, right?”
Taylor noticed Baldwin’s briefly pained look. Her curiosity piqued; whatever happened to drive him away from Quantico must have been pretty bad. The profilers up there were tough as nails, they saw horrors she could only imagine. What had happened to this man? Was it something to do with the case Marcus had mentioned?
Baldwin tried a smile. “Yeah, I did. Pretty brutal stuff. It’s good to meet you.”
“Maybe we could talk about the case over lunch. I’ll buy.”
Taylor took pity on Baldwin. Marcus may have hated dead bodies, but he was fascinated with sexually motivated killings. Given half the chance, he would forget everything he needed to do and sequester Baldwin in an interview room to talk shop the rest of the day. She jumped in before Marcus could secure his date and start his interrogation.
“One thing at a time, puppy. Let’s give Dr. Baldwin a little space to get started. Baldwin, tell me what you’ll need to do your initial assessment.”
Baldwin squared his shoulders. He didn’t want to be here. Lieutenant Jackson was humoring him, but he had a headache, and he really wanted a beer. Meeting her oddly-colored eyes, somewhere deep inside a spark of pride stirred. It may goeth before his fall, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her, or the rest of her team.
“I’d like to start with the crime scene photos and the files you’ve compiled on each girl. I need the autopsy reports, and I’d like to speak to your ME a little later on. I assume you’ve run the databases. I’d like the results of those as well. If I could, I’d like a quiet place where I can look over the files.”
Taylor looked surprised but quickly covered it with a cough. If he was going to make an effort, she could try as well.
Taylor gave the necessary directions. Baldwin was escorted to the conference room across the hall from the squad room. Taylor started to follow him in, and he stopped her.
“I know you have questions about me, but I promise you, I’m going to stick close to home, read these over, give you an opinion, and be out of your hair. That should satisfy everyone involved, don’t you think?”
Taylor saw nothing but pain in his green eyes, and something told her to keep trying. “How about this, Dr. Baldwin? You go over those files. See if you come up with anything interesting. Then we’ll talk about your imminent dismissal. Okay?” She turned and shut the door behind her before he had a chance to respond.
“Great,” he said to the blue wall. “Just fucking great. Fine, I’ll look. I’ll give them some suggestions, they can go track them down, and I’m out of here.” He sat angrily at the table. He realized it was the first emotion he’d felt in months, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Twenty-Five
Baldwin ran his fingers through his hair, making the too long strands spike like porcupine quills. He’d read the files on the dead girls twice, and didn’t remember a word. He stood and wandered around the conference room, looking idly for something to play with. He found only a handful of paperclips and a tape dispenser. They’d cleaned out the cell of the condemned. Back at the table, he half smiled to the wall, picked up a clip and started prying the wire apart. When he finished, he picked up another, then another, until a ramshackle chain link fence formed itself on the table in front of him.
Who was he trying to kid? He didn’t have any business being here. Garrett and Price knew that, and they were pushing him to come back to the land of the living, something he wasn’t sure if he was willing to do. Yet here he was, files spread before him, two beautiful girls dead, and he had only the simplest curiosity about how they’d gotten there. In his old life, he would have already taken each word of each file apart, would have a sense of whom they were dealing with. He’d be formulating plans on how to stop him from striking again. Now, well…
He struck the table with his fist, scattering the barricade of paper clips all over the table. He impatiently brushed them aside, watching them scatter in random patterns on the floor. He stared, trying to find some clue in the metal blueprint, but saw nothing. An appropriate reaction for one whose mind was a jumbled blank.
He was out of practice.
With a sigh, he pulled the file of Jordan Blake toward him, and started again.
The door to the conference room opened, light spilling in from the hall. It was the woman, Jackson, the light haloing around her head. She looked like an avenging angel.
“Mr., ah, Dr. Baldwin? Fitz and I are getting something to eat. Would you like to join us? Samantha Owens, our ME, may come with the results of the tox screens on our two murdered girls. You said you’d like to meet her.”