She was so tired, too tired even to cry. She lay facing the window, wondering what in the world was happening to her. She must be drugged somehow. She wasn’t panicked; she was more curious as to what was happening. She should be scared, she should be panicked, but everything was softly glowing—the drugs, she told herself – you’re being drugged. At least she knew there would be people trying to find her. The father of her child, for one. Gabriel wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He had been so good to her, so sweet. An angel. The affair had been going on for only a few weeks when she’d gotten pregnant. He was thrilled. She’d expected screams and threats, begging to end the pregnancy coupled with ‘I’ll always stand by you.’ But he was as excited as a new puppy. She wasn’t two months along before he started coming up with names. Boy’s names. He was absolutely positive that Jill was giving him a son.
The time had flown so quickly. Though she wasn’t completely sure it was the right thing to do, she’d agreed to keep the baby. She’d only shared the news with the doctor at the health clinic at Vanderbilt. She hadn’t gotten up the guts to tell her parents, nor had she shared the news with her friends. She hoped they just thought she was putting on weight. Though she was getting so big now, she supposed it wouldn’t stay secret for much longer. Baggy clothes only hid so much.
The lightning was so close, the thunder simultaneous, filling the room with light and shaking the walls at the same time. She had no idea what was going on, where she was, what in the name of God was going on. She hid beneath the covers, praying for the storm to end.
Jill awoke later with a start, crying out, choking. She looked around wildly. The same room, the same bed. She tried to gather her breath. She had dreamed of trees bending unmercifully in the wind, lightning crashing, and drowning in a river of blood.
“It was only a dream, Jill, it was only a dream.”
The arms reached her out of nowhere, and she realized Gabriel was holding her, whispering in her ear, soothing her with nonsensical murmurs. Was she dreaming? She didn’t have the energy to fight, didn’t protest when he laid her back onto the bed gently. She didn’t have the ability to shout when he rose and went to the door. Her screams merely echoed in her head as she heard the door lock behind him.
Thirty-Six
The thunder and lightning were moving in, the rain pouring in sheets against the windows of the squad room. The storm was unsettling; the squad room was filled with the smell of anxiety.
Price stuck his head out of his office. “Strategy meeting, conference room, fifteen minutes. And be aware, we’re under a tornado watch. Have your stuff ready in case we need to hit the basements.”
There were groans and shuffling. Marcus stopped typing and logged off his computer. Lincoln made a slow circuit around the room while Fitz flicked his lighter ever closer to his emergency cigarette. Taylor shifted her boots off her desk but didn’t get up. She stiffened as she saw Baldwin step back into the room, windblown and remorseful.
Price had seen Taylor slam back into the squad room, noticed her body language change when Baldwin came in. He gave her a surreptitious glance, thinking she may have had time to cool down from whatever had pissed her off so badly. No, she was still simmering, nearly giving off smoke from the fires lit inside her. He sighed. He needed his best detective back, all the way. He didn’t have time for a turf war.
He walked to her desk, eyebrows raised.
“Everything okay there, sugar?”
She gave him a small smile. “Right as rain.”
“Ha-ha.” He looked at her closely, started to speak, then decided to leave it alone. She was a big girl. He didn’t need to fight any battles for her.
Taylor looked at Price’s receding back. He was hollow eyed, tired and obviously just as shocked as his detectives that another Vandy student had disappeared. She felt a pang of remorse. He was a good man; she admired him. She resolved to pull it together, yet again. Mitchell Price was one person she never wanted to disappoint.
Price called, “Okay everyone, screw fifteen. Let’s go ahead and chat about our next moves now. We can do it right here. We have a case to solve. Let’s try to get it in before the storm really hits.”
As if to answer him, the lights went out, plunging them into darkness.
“The generators are going to come on, right?” Marcus’s voice had a little waver in it, the perfect tension releaser. The group fell back on the tried and true: take it out on someone else.
Fitz called, “Hey, Marcus, you afraid of the dark?”
“No, you big old fat fool, I’m just asking if we have generators for this shithole.”
Price started a laugh but covered it with a cough. But Taylor didn’t hold back. Her giggling was infectious. They were all roaring with laughter when the tornado sirens went off.
Taylor grabbed a Maglite from her desk drawer. Suddenly sober, she instructed, “Everyone to the basements.” They all got up to follow her out.
Baldwin felt badly. He hadn’t meant to fight with Taylor, just to help somehow. She’d reached out to him when he was at his lowest point. He wanted to give something back. He’d rushed in without taking the time to figure out if Taylor would accept any overtures from him. He was a complete stranger, shoving his way into her case and into her life. No wonder she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He felt the despair creeping up his spine but shoved it away. He couldn’t fold this easily, not yet. He needed, well, he didn’t know what he needed, but it was something he knew only Taylor Jackson could give him.