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November 3
7:10 a.m.

“So what do you want to do?” Garrett asked.

They were having breakfast in a little diner they liked. Baldwin hadn’t slept. His beard was growing in, itching his cheeks. Reliving the Arlen case was torturous. Having to remember the worst time in his life, his biggest mea culpa, was wearing on him.

And the bastards on the disciplinary committee had suspended him. Possibly permanently.

“Honestly? I want to go to North Carolina and see if I can’t help with the Pete Fitzgerald case. I know that the Pretender is behind it. We have no idea how long they’re going to play this suspension game.”

“Until Tucker is satisfied that you’ve learned your lesson and won’t be going off the reservation ever again. Which is exactly what you’re telling me you want to do.”

“Garrett, this case is going to explode. I can feel it. And if we’re not on top of things, we’ll have even more egg on our face. The Bureau doesn’t need to have any more bad press.”

Garrett raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know, I know. I’m the one generating the bad press right now. Which makes an even better case for me to get out of town and help untarnish my reputation.”

“You’re suspended, Baldwin. You need to go back to Nashville and quietly play house until they recall you.”

He set his fork down, his eggs untouched. “Is that what you would do?”

Garrett gave him a familiar sideways smile. “Of course not. But I’m not you. I can’t promise that I can keep you safe if you continue to piss Tucker off. He’s got it in for you.”

“I know. Thank goodness for Reever. If he hadn’t started spouting off they might have actually fired me.”

Garrett finished his coffee.

“Go to North Carolina. See what you can dig up. But do it quietly. I’ll run interference from here.”

“You’re the best, Garrett.”

“What are you going to tell Taylor?”

He toyed with his coffee cup.

“As little as possible. She’s compromised already. She has a serial killer stalking her, her father figure is missing, she’s just gotten her command back. The last thing she needs is to hear smut about me and Charlotte.”

“I gotta tell you, Baldwin, I think you’d be smart to tell her the truth. All of it.”

“She’d never forgive me.”

“Baldwin. You’ve been carrying this load for five years. No one will blame you.”

“I don’t think so. Not now. The timing isn’t right.”

“There’s never going to be a good time. You know that. Charlotte is dead. The boy isn’t. Be careful, man. You don’t want to lose her.”

“I know. Thanks, Garrett.” He stood and tossed a twenty on the table, trying to force the image of his smiling, green-eyed, red-haired son out of his head.

“I’ll see you soon.”