“A magnanimous gesture, but that’s okay, I’ll get it. I’m just sick of putting out fires.” He picked up the receiver. “Price.”
Baldwin watched him listen to the person on the other line, wondering at the emotions that passed across his face. Good news or bad? Baldwin couldn’t tell.
Price sighed and spoke again. “Yes, Julia, I can reach her. One hour? Okay. Bye.”
Holding up his finger in a signal to wait, he hit the speakerphone and dialed Taylor’s cell phone. She answered immediately.
“I was trying to call you.”
“Good. Julia Page just called. The grand jury wants you in an hour.”
Taylor let out a huge groan. “No, no, no, not right now. Please tell me you’re kidding. Can’t you get me out of it?”
Price chuckled. “You know I can’t. Just get it over with. We’ll mark you off the rest of the day. Give us a call when you’re back on the grid.”
The annoyance in her voice was barely concealed. “Damn it. Fine. I’ll let you know when I get out. But I have other news for you. The remains from the church weren’t Jill Gates.”
Price and Baldwin shared a look. The relief was palpable, yet tempered with concern. Price jumped back in first. “I take it you don’t have an ID for us?”
“No, I don’t. But we may have a much bigger problem. I got an anonymous phone call a little while ago. Jill Gates is pregnant. Assuming she’s still alive, very pregnant. According to Sam, she’s far enough along that if she had the baby now, it might survive without her.”
Price sat slowly, staring at Baldwin while Taylor continued.
“But I have to go testify in front of the grand jury instead of handling that little detail. I’ll leave that up to you guys. My suggestion would be to get Baldwin working the pregnancy angle. He might have an idea of what this guy is up to. He didn’t answer his phone when I called a few minutes ago.”
“I’m right here, Taylor. Sorry, I must have turned off the ringer accidentally.”
“Okay then. You guys have a fun afternoon. I’m outta here.” She hung up before they could wish her luck.
Price hung up and stared at Baldwin, who didn’t look terribly surprised by the news Taylor had just sprung on them. “Who was in that confessional?”
Baldwin sighed at the rhetorical question. “I don’t know. This is such a departure from the earlier killings, it is possible that it’s not related.”
“You don’t think that’s the case though, do you?” Price asked.
“I’m that easy to read, huh?” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. This is all connected somehow, but I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s not common, but killers do shift their patterns, especially when they’re trying to communicate. I think there’s a message in this church burning, and the victims were doubtless chosen for a specific purpose. I’m not sure what it is, though. And now, with Jill Gates having a late stage pregnancy combined with Jordan Blake’s pregnancy…Have there been any more missing person’s reports?”
“Lincoln is our guy there. He’s outside, still working, though Taylor sent him home to sleep.” He went to the door, called Lincoln in.
“What’s up, Cap?”
“We just got off the phone with Taylor. The remains from the church aren’t Jill Gates. But we have to find out who this woman is. Do you have any other MP reports?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been resolved. The only outstanding one was from a former pro missing from Magdalene, but she turned up this morning floating in Old Hickory Lake.”
“Think you can do some trolling, see if there are any others out there?”
“Yeah. I think I need to expand out the area. I was already running state-wide. I’ll go over the entire Southeast, see if anything else pops up. Check ya later.” He turned to go, shoulders slumped with weariness.
Price leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on his desk, and gazed at Baldwin, saying nothing. Baldwin waited him out. He had no intention of volunteering anything more without a good, long think about things.
Price dropped his feet off from the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Fifty
Baldwin was too surprised by Price’s invitation to do anything but agree.
They made their way out of the building, across the courthouse parking lot and onto Second Avenue, his mind churning with possibilities. Price didn’t speak much as they walked, lost in his own thoughts. He stopped in front of a restaurant with a neon red sign in the window that read SATCO. The San Antonio Taco Company was something of an establishment in Nashville. Their main restaurant was over by the Vanderbilt campus, servicing the students with beer and cheap food on the oversized deck. The small offshoot they were entering didn’t have the ambiance, but the food was still quick and delicious.