Fifty-Four

Baldwin pulled the car over and put his head in his hands.

“Think,” he said aloud to himself.

Where are you, Taylor?

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked. “What did she say?”

“She said we’d know where she was. She’s not thinking clearly.”

“I’d say she was pretty clearheaded.”

“So you heard?” There would be no secrets after this, among any of them.

“The only obvious thing was the words child and Charlotte. Add to that the tone of fury, and you do the math. I’m a detective, remember? You had a kid with Charlotte?”

Baldwin ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a long story, but yes. One small detail, I just found out about him last year. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“Last year? And you didn’t tell her? No wonder she’s pissed.”

“Yes, thanks. I should have told her right away, I know. I was afraid I would lose her, that she wouldn’t be able to forgive me. Looks like I was right.”

“She’s not prone to histrionics. If you’d been up front with her, I’m sure she could have forgiven you.”

“I fucked up. Trust me, I know. And now she’s off on a suicide mission. Where did she go? Where did Copeland take Sam? It’s someplace meaningful, someplace that Taylor would easily guess. From their past, maybe. Goddamn it, she said I know where she is. Where is she?”

Marcus thought for a minute.

“Where it all began. They’re at the Snow White’s house.”