ALL THE PRETTY GIRLS BOOK 1 by J.T. Ellison Read Free Book Online Page B

got us involved. I need you to head over to Betsy Garrison’s house.”
    “He raped the lead investigator of his case? Are you kidding me?”
    Price sighed, and Taylor’s heart reached out to him.
    “He damn near killed her. She’s been taken to Baptist, but the scene needs some control and the chief asked for you personally.”
    “Uh-oh, that can’t be good.”
    The Metro Nashville Police Department had come under new management, and the rank and file weren’t pleased with the choice.
    “He wanted a ranking female on the case. You’re the homicide lieutenant. If she dies it falls under our auspices anyway. Maybe he’s using some foresight, or maybe he just wants to make it look good for the press. I don’t know. Things have been crazy down here this morning. The B shift caught two project murders, and with that Shauna Davidson girl missing… Either way, if you can extricate yourself from whatever you’re doing, I’d appreciate you getting over there and letting me know what’s happening.”
    Taylor felt a brief moment of panic. Surely he didn’t know what she had actually been up to. She weighed the thought, then decided no, he was just being funny. Price was like that. Half-misogynistic old-school cop, half-caring, sensitive police. She played along.
    “You’re making assumptions, Captain.”
    “I just figured you might be trying to have a life, Lieutenant. Now get over there and do me proud.” He hung up the phone, leaving Taylor with an odd sense of satisfaction. She knew it had probably been Price’s idea that she step into the case.
    She set the phone back in its cradle and glanced across the room at Baldwin. His phone had rung but she hadn’t noticed. As he talked quietly, a sense of dismay crossed his rugged features. That couldn’t be good. He gave her a half smile and said goodbye to whoever had decided to ruin his morning. He came back to the bed, sliding between the sheets and giving her a small kiss.
    Taylor threaded her fingers in his dark hair, too long by Bureau standards and perfect by hers. Silver bled from his temples and it curled slightly at the nape of his neck. She slipped her hand down, rubbing his neck softly.
    “Bad news, babe?” she asked.
    “I have to go to Georgia. They’ve found Shauna Davidson.”
    And those four words stopped the gentleness of their morning.

Eight
    Taylor was on full alert when she arrived at Betsy Garrison’s home. Betsy lived in East Nashville, once the habitat of drug lords and crack whores. But the neighborhood was “coming back,” as the residents liked to say. Hip new restaurants nestled in with Victorian homes, restored to within an inch of their former glory. Young professionals ruled the area, BMWs and Lexus SUVs gleaming in the driveways, ones bought with earned money rather than by illegal means. Trees soared into the sky with abandon, even the birds and squirrels had taken on a prosperous hue.
    But the street where Betsy lived seemed to be in mourning on this rainy day. When Taylor rolled up in her black Xterra, she only recognized one other car parked strategically along the street, a beat-up Ford F-150 pickup. She sighed. No marked cars for this trip. You could say the police were undercover, protecting one of their own. There was no yellow crime scene tape blowing giddily in the breeze. No news vans lined the street. Word had been kept quiet, a need to know only, nothing broadcast over the air, all calls made to private phones and cells. An ambulance hadn’t even made its way down the narrow streets. Betsy had been taken out her back door and stuffed into the waiting car of her partner in Sex Crimes to be transported to the hospital. Taylor shook her head at the ratty truck. Fitz definitely needed new wheels. But he stubbornly refused, swearing to stand by his rust bucket until the bitter end. From the looks of it, the end wasn’t far off. She pulled behind it, stepped carefully to the curb to avoid the puddle in the gutter, and