Quantico
November 2

Baldwin weighed his options for how he wanted to tell this part of the story. He was treading into the most dangerous territory. He wasn’t blameless, far from it. But a misstep here could cost him his career. And he was suddenly sure that he wanted to stay at the FBI. He wanted to continue working with the BAU, to help Garrett. All of his early doubts vanished. All he could do was tell the truth, and hope for the best.

“Dr. Baldwin? We’re waiting.”

Reever gave him a concerned look. “You okay, buddy? You need a minute?”

Baldwin shook his head. “No. No, I’m okay.” He took a deep breath, and finished the story.

Quantico
June 19, 2004
Baldwin

The dawn came early. Baldwin had managed a couple of hours of sleep. Charlotte was in the kitchen—he could hear her moving about and smelled fresh coffee. He roused himself from the bed, took a quick shower and dressed.

When he entered the kitchen, Charlotte was at the table, legs drawn up on the chair, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“I know what we need to do,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“We know it’s him, right? We know it’s Arlen. It’s not just me.”

“Right. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind.”

“Then it’s up to us to stop this.”

“Of course it is. We’re doing the best we can. The Fairfax Homicide team is excellent. They’ll find something.”

“Yes, they will. I have an idea, though. I think it’s time we circumvent Fairfax and do this ourselves.”

“Charlotte, we can’t do that. It’s their case. We’re just consulting, at their pleasure. We push too hard and Goldman will have us off this case in a heartbeat. Don’t think he won’t, he’s getting frustrated.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Sorry, you lost me.”

She sighed, hard and impatient, breath coming out in a huff. “Think about it, Baldwin. We have access to the blood evidence.”

He didn’t like where this was going. All his warning bells began to ring.

“Yes, we do, but what of it?”

“All we need is a few drops. A few drops on a handkerchief. We conduct another search of the house, and voilà, there’s the evidence we need to put this bastard behind bars forever.”

Baldwin’s breath caught in his throat. “Charlotte. You’re talking about—”

She whirled on him, face contorted. He’d never seen her angry, and the sight of it unnerved him.

“I know. I know! But what else can we do? We have to take matters into our own hands. No one would ever know. And think of all the lives we’d save, of the closure we could give to the families. It’s for the greater good.”

She was inches from him now, the fire coming off her body in waves. Righteous indignation didn’t look good on her. He felt every muscle in his body tense, and realized he wanted to hit her. He’d never felt such a pure, fine rage flowing through his veins.

She grasped his hand and he jerked back as if burned. She ignored that, reached for him again. He froze as her arms went around his body. She began her succubus dance, the moves depending on the siren call in his blood to rise up and meet her. He didn’t feel it. She’d killed whatever feeling he’d had for her, all with one stupid thought spoken aloud.

This was not what he wanted. This was wrong, every bit of it. He’d always known that, but this, this open ploy at seduction after suggesting they break every code of ethics he stood for, sickened him. He stepped back and grabbed her arms, holding her away from his body. He couldn’t help himself, he gave her a little shake, trying to get her full attention. He stared hard into her eyes, making sure she understood him very clearly.

“You listen to me. I’m going to forget you said this. I’m going to look the other way while you gather your things and get the hell out of my apartment. I’m taking you off this case. You are not to get anywhere near Harold Arlen. Do you understand?”

Charlotte’s lips tightened and she wrenched her arms from his grasp. “Fuck you, Baldwin. You can’t tell me what to do. You want me just as much as I want you. You can’t deny that. And you know in your heart that this is the right path.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong. Get out, Charlotte. Get out now.”

He was yelling, and it took all his effort to ratchet it back down and calm his voice.

She stared at him, the hurt in her amber eyes palpable and deadly.

“Don’t you dare try to throw me out of your life, Baldwin. I will make sure you regret it.”

“Charlotte, threats? Is that how you keep people in your bed, under your spell?”

“I love you.” She started to cry, the tears flowing down her face, dripping off her chin. She didn’t try to hide it, stood proudly, back straight, and looked him in the eye.

“I said I love you. You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

Baldwin just shook his head. He didn’t take her threats seriously, really, what could she do? Yes, they’d been having an ill-advised affair, but it wasn’t the first at the Bureau, nor would it be the last. He’d get a nasty slap on the wrist, but that was all.

He dropped her arms and walked a few feet away. Charlotte continued to cry, but her eyes were wary now. He could see the realization in them, then the fury began to build.

He turned away and said, “I don’t love you.”

“Well, we’ve got quite a problem on our hands. Because I’m pregnant.”

He froze, then turned back to her slowly.

“What did you say?”

She set her chin, stared him right in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

He couldn’t identify the emotions running through him. Bullshit. She was bullshitting him. But something in her face told him she wasn’t.

“Is it mine?” he asked.

“Fuck you, Baldwin. Fuck. You.” Big, sloppy tears coursed down her face. “How could you say that?”

“It’s too early to tell. We’ve only been together a few weeks.”

She whirled away and went to her handbag. She dug inside for a moment, then turned and threw something at him. He caught it in midair—a pregnancy test, with two pink lines.

Son of a bitch.

She’d gathered up some of her pride—her face was frozen, all emotions hid away.

“I’ll abort it. You obviously don’t want it.”

“Charlotte, I—”

“Go to hell, John Baldwin. You just go to hell.”

In a flurry of invectives and flying red hair, Charlotte decamped from the apartment. He didn’t go after her. Too much to absorb. He shut the door behind her and leaned against it with a sigh. God, what had he done? What had he gotten himself into?

Pregnant.

Oh, my God. He’d gotten her pregnant.

And that was only half the problem. For Christ’s sake, she’d suggested planting evidence.

He was at an absolute loss.

He slid down the door onto the apartment floor, head in his hands. What to do? He took a few deep breaths. That was better.

The first step would be to go to Garrett Woods and explain that he couldn’t have her on the team anymore. He’d gauge whether he needed to tell the whole story once he was in the moment; it was quite possible that Garrett would simply take him at his word and have her moved. If not, he’d have to suck it up and take his punishment like a man. It was his fault, after all. He’d been thinking with the little head.

Should he marry her? Stop her from having the abortion, marry her and have the kid? He never saw himself as a father. Of course, he’d never gotten anyone pregnant before, either.

His cell phone started to ring but he ignored it. He struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth. He felt such heaviness surrounding him, the pressure of the case, the chaos of Charlotte’s idiocy, the specter of an unplanned child…

It was too much. He went into the kitchen, splashed cold water on his face, then went to the living room and turned on the television. A breaking news alert flashed red on the screen, and he felt his heart sink. The anchor had tears in her eyes as she delivered the statement.

“The Clockwork Killer has struck again.”

“Son of a bitch!” Baldwin hurled the remote across the room. It crashed against the wall in several pieces, the perfect allegory for his life. Broken pieces. Little girls scattered like seed corn in the forest. A suspect with no evidence to tie him to the crimes. And a demented profiler hell-bent on her own personal destruction. His life, turned upside down. How many more disasters could this day bring?

Charlotte

Charlotte sat in her car, white and shaking. She couldn’t believe Baldwin had questioned her. Is it mine? That bastard. How could he think otherwise? He’d been fucking her every chance he got for over two weeks. How dare he be so callous? How dare he? After all she’d given him. After what she’d said.

She did love him, whether he believed it or not. Her love may not manifest itself in the ways others could interpret, but it was love, nonetheless. She’d never given herself so totally to a man before. Look where it had gotten her. Alone and pregnant, in her car, crying.

She wiped her face angrily. Crying would solve nothing.

He was just scared. That’s all. She shouldn’t have told him her plan, not until afterward. She should have eased him into this, told him about the baby, let him be happy first. Then he’d understand her plan was flawless, and the right thing to do.

She put the car into gear. She had so many things to do today. She’d prove herself to him, and he would come back. He would. She would make sure of it.