Sam chuckled. “Jeez, Taylor. Only you get to hallucinate a threesome.”

“Foursome, if you’re being accurate,” Taylor mumbled.

“Was it good?”

“The foursome? No, it was creepy.”

“I mean with Memphis.”

Taylor stopped and thought back. Good was an understatement. She knew she needed to tell Sam the whole story if she was going to figure out what was real, and what wasn’t.

“It felt very real, but Sam, I never opened my eyes. I never actually saw him. And after what I dreamed, or hallucinated, last night…parts of it were very familiar. There’s no way we did it, because he’s in London, or was, at any rate. He’s not physically here in the castle.”

“Honey, if you aren’t sure, then yes, you might have hallucinated being with him in the first place. It’s possible to have an erotic fantasy fueled by certain types of drugs—LSD, for example. Maybe you didn’t even kiss him that other time. I think you need to ask him.”

“No, I’m sure about the kiss. But the rest… There’s an embarrassing question. ‘Hullo, Memphis, how are you? Did we sleep together the other night, or did I just imagine the whole thing?’”

Sam had the decency not to laugh. “It’s gotta be done, sugar. For your peace of mind as much as anything. Listen, I have to go, the twins are crying, and Simon is less than pleased with me, and you sound way more coherent. But don’t take any more pills. Stop taking everything. I’m sure you have some Advil. Take eight hundred milligrams if the headache starts, repeat that every six hours. You might have some shakes after a day or so—that’s the Percocet talking. Just gut it out. I know you can. And if there is any way to have blood drawn, so you can see what’s in your system, do it.”

“All right.”

“And Taylor? For God’s sake, watch your back.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Taylor hung up with Sam and sighed deeply. She didn’t know how to get a blood sample, outside of cutting herself and putting the blood in a glass from the bathroom. Maybe one of the discarded water bottles?

They wouldn’t need much, would they?

She didn’t have a knife. She cast about the room, looking for something that might work. Glass.

She took one of the crystal lowballs to the bathroom and threw it into the tub, and immediately was reminded of Bald win shattering his wineglass in their kitchen. God, he’d been right. He’d been right the whole time. She should have listened to him.

She picked up a thick shard of glass that looked sharp enough to do the job and cut her forearm before she could change her mind. Blood welled to the surface. She caught it in an empty Highland Springs bottle. She had no idea if that would be enough, or the right kind of blood to test, but it was better than doing nothing.

She bandaged herself up and put the bottle in the bottom of her suitcase.

Her phone was ringing but she ignored it.

She took the dregs of her last pot of tea and filled another bottle with it. There. She felt more in control now.

Time to bite the bullet. She needed to lay all the ghosts to rest.

Her next call was to Baldwin. He was even more upset with her than Sam had been.

“Where have you been? Sam forwarded me that email you wrote her. What in the world is going on?”

“It’s kind of a long, messed-up story.”

She gave him the gist of what was going on, leaving out any erotic details about the nocturnal escapades.

“So you think you’ve been drugged?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you sure you haven’t just overdone the pain meds? They’re strong pills.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I can’t believe you’d say that.”

“Don’t get defensive. I’m asking as a doctor, not your fiancé.”

She took a deep breath. She needed him on her side right now. “It has to be external, Baldwin. Either that or I’m in big trouble mentally.”

“Did you mention this to Memphis?”

“No, I haven’t talked to him.” Her voice sounded queer.

She kicked herself. She sounded guilty. Baldwin was kind enough not to mention it.

Baldwin made an excellent point. Where was Memphis? He hadn’t gotten in touch since he left. At first she’d been glad, but then… Could he be in on this? She hadn’t wanted to think that Memphis would have anything to do with a plot against her. But if he’d helped Trixie drug her, then come to her room and had sex with her, knowing her to be compromised… No. No.

She couldn’t think that about him. She couldn’t think that he’d basically date-raped her. And from what she recalled, she’d been willing enough, at the time.

And she couldn’t share that part with Baldwin, either. She steeled her voice.

“I can’t imagine he’d be so callous. Memphis may be many things, but he’s a cop, a man of integrity. He’s like us.”

“He’s just a man, Taylor. And he’s in love with you. God, I knew this was a horrible idea, letting you go up there unsupervised.”

“Whoa, there, Baldwin. Unsupervised? I’m not fourteen.”

“No, but you are hopelessly naive when it comes to Memphis. You’ve never been able to see him for who he is. For what he is willing to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Taylor. Take the blinders off. You can’t tell me that he didn’t make a move on you.”

She got quiet. Deception was one thing, sins of omission. He’d been doing that to her for years. But openly lying to Baldwin? She couldn’t do it. She hoped he never asked again.

“I figured,” he said bitterly.

“It’s not what you think,” she said finally.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s ten times worse than I could possibly imagine. He can’t be trusted, Taylor. My instincts are rarely wrong about people. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“What, you think I’m in danger from him now? That’s insane.”

“Is it? Did he tell you why his wife and child died, Taylor?”

“It was an accident. He took me there. To the bridge. Dulsie Bridge. Sam told me that’s where Evan died.”

“She was running away from him.”

“Where in the hell do you get that from? Why would he lie?”

He heaved a great, knowing sigh.

“I got it from my contacts. His family managed to keep things relatively quiet—it wasn’t seemly. But word on the street was they were breaking up.”

“No way. He adored Evan.”

“Again with the naïveté. You’ve consistently taken Memphis at face value since you met him.”

“Baldwin, I—”

“They’d been fighting, Taylor. Evan wanted to leave him, was considering divorce. He was in London, working all the time. Some sources say he had an affair and she found out. They had a huge row and she took off, then drove her car off the bridge. He was the reason she died. It was ruled a suicide. They didn’t even do an autopsy. The family kept everything completely hush-hush. But what if it wasn’t, Taylor? What if he killed her?”

Now that pissed her off. “Oh please. He was in London when she died. You’re just trying to turn me off him. No, Baldwin. That’s not possible. Memphis wouldn’t do that. That’s not what happened. No one knew why Evan was up there. He told me.”

“He’s supposedly in London right now, too, Taylor. And another of ‘his women’ is spinning out of control. Who are you going to believe, Taylor? Me? Or him?”

The file. She had the file from Memphis’s office. She scrambled to the desk and found it, hidden right where she’d left it.

“I’ll call you back,” she said. He started to disagree, but she repeated herself. “I will call you back. Bye.”

The file was a mess, full of articles cut from newspapers, handwritten notes, pictures. She took a deep breath. How best to do this? It was much too late to pretend she hadn’t had her hands on it. And in light of everything, she hardly felt guilty for snooping.