Judas Kiss by J.T. Ellison Page A

now.
    â€œI could give her a generic warning. Anything funny happens, let me know. Something so she wouldn’t be blindsided.”
    Garrett shook his head, a fine sheen of sweat shimmering along his closely clipped hairline. “No. Not yet. Let’s get some confirmation first. This may not happen. We don’t need to blow your cover over a maybe. Langley would not like that at all.”

Eight
    W hen Taylor was deep in a case, every workday lasted just a bit longer than the last.
    She left the office a little after eleven o’clock, planning to forage in her kitchen for wine and cheese, maybe a hunk of bread. It was too late for a real dinner, and after five months living with Baldwin, she’d come to realize she didn’t like to eat alone anymore. She dragged into the house at eleven-thirty, yawned and decided to hell with it. She’d just head upstairs and have a decent breakfast instead.
    Baldwin had called, leaving a message on the machine for her, one designed to incite a lustful longing for his warmth. She’d smiled at the attempt to solicit dirty thoughts, but was too tired to think of much except getting into the bed and sleeping forever.
    There was a bill on the counter from the plumber. God, she’d forgotten all about the leak. It seemed impossible that she’d started her day with such a banal issue. It felt like a week had passed.
    Just a cracked cock and ball assembly, allowing the water to the toilet to steadily overflow. He’d replaced it, and the charge was $150 for parts and labor, but with their new home warranty, their cost was only $42.50. That was a relief. She checked the ceiling in the living room, it had already dried without leaving a stain. Good. Replacing a ceiling wasn’t high on her list of things she wanted to deal with. Though they’d had a million little issues with the house, so far they were just that, little. She rapped her knuckles on the cabinet—knock wood they’d stay annoyances rather than something major.
    She called Baldwin back and they chatted for a few minutes. She told him about her day and he assured her that Garrett was just fine. After her fourth jaw-cracking yawn, Baldwin suggested she get some sleep. They hung up with promises to talk in the morning.
    A dog barked once, sharp and deep, then howled. The sound gave her a chill, and she set the alarm before moving upstairs.
    She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was climbing in the bed when she heard the tape for the first time. Channel Five kindly replayed their ten o’clock newscast at midnight on their sister cable station. The anchor was intoning with horror, preparing the viewers with a warning that was sure to keep them riveted to their seats and the channel tuned in.
    â€œWe’re going to play the 911 tapes from the Corinne Wolff murder scene. We must warn you, the tape is disturbing, and not appropriate for young viewers.”
    The screen went blank, then a blue background with a graphic of a white rotary telephone popped up, the headline reading 911 Call. The tape started rolling, static whispering at first, then clearer. The station provided a written transcript on the screen to accompany Michelle Harris’s words.
    â€œ911 Operator: Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?
    Michelle Harris: I think my sister is dead. Oh, my God. [crying]
    911 Operator: Can you repeat that, ma’am?
    Michelle Harris: There’s blood, oh, my God, there’s blood everywhere. And there are footprints…HAYDEN?
    911 Operator: Ma’am? Ma’am? Who is dead?
    Michelle Harris: HAYDEN, oh, dear sweet Jesus, you’re covered in blood. Come here. How did you get out of your crib?
    911 Operator: Ma’am? Ma’am, what is your location?
    Michelle Harris: Yes, I’m here. It’s 4589 Jocelyn Hollow Court. My sister…
    911 Operator: Hayden is your sister?
    Michelle Harris: Hayden is her daughter. Oh, God.
    Background noise: Mama hurt
    911