CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Madeira James didn’t exist. She was a ghost.

Taylor looked everywhere she could think. Criminal records first, but no one with that name had run afoul of the law. She moved on to all the regular databases she had access to—credit card companies, tax rolls, real estate. Nothing.

Maddee was from Long Island. She hadn’t come to Scotland until she was twenty-one or so; Memphis had told her that. There had to be something, some record. But there was nothing.

Taylor had friends in New York who could look deeper into the files there, but that would take too long. She felt like time was running out.

But she knew someone who could break through all the barriers, seen and unseen. If there was information to be found, he could access it.

She grabbed her phone and dialed up Lincoln Ross.

He answered in a quiet mumble. She’d woken him, but he would understand.

“It’s Taylor.”

“I know. What’s up?”

“I need your help.” She outlined the story for him. Again with the barest of essentials, skipping many of the finer points. If she were wrong, she didn’t want her team around her to think she’d gone off the deep end.

Lincoln, ever the adventurist when it came to tracking people through the internet, was game for some action. She heard him start typing away.

“Good. I owe you one, Linc.”

“Always good to need a favor. I’ll get back to you. This number is secure?”

“It’s the best I’ve got. Keep it quiet and cover your tracks. If she’s hiding something, and there are alarms set up, I don’t want her to know we’re into her world.”

“Will do. Talk to you shortly.”

Home.

A wave of longing for the normalcy of Nashville crashed over her. She’d even face her father if she got through this one unscathed. He was nothing, comparatively.

Taylor sat at the desk for a few minutes to plan her next steps. Phase one was in play. Now to deal with the bigger issue.

She was here in the house with Maddee and Trixie. Maddee’s husband was present. She couldn’t imagine that she was in any kind of real danger from the women, not with so many witnesses around. That would be insanity.

What if this whole escapade, if you will, was designed for her to see the good in Memphis? That the plan was for her to be mortified, scared and sick and alone, and him to come charging in on the white horse to save her? Yet it had back fired something terrible.

She opened her email and read the note he’d addressed to her again. It was so desperate, so intense. She’d felt those emotions coming off Memphis in Nashville, and again in Italy. He’d tamped them down a bit since her arrival in the U.K., though they’d flared again at the bridge, and of course, their overnights. If those were real.

In novels, they called it burning desire.

She may not know exactly how she felt about him, but one thing was for sure. Being possessed, by any man, wasn’t going to happen. Taylor may make mistakes—doozies, too. But she was well past the point of letting a man—letting anyone, for that matter—control her.

The fire was dying out. She went ahead and tossed on another couple of logs. Surely the storm must be breaking. A quick check of the radar showed it was as intense as ever. For the moment. The blizzard should last through the evening, start tapering off after dark. Thank goodness. She’d be gone in twenty-four hours, no more, even if she had to shovel her way to the road and hitch a ride.

She tried to call Baldwin back again.

As she dialed his number, the case for the tape Maddee had given her caught her eye. She’d forgotten all about it. Curiosity got the better of her. She’d left the tape in the Bose sound system on the bookshelf to the right of the desk. She hit Play and listened for a few seconds while Baldwin’s phone connected.

Maddee’s voice was soft and soothing. Taylor couldn’t help herself; she started to think about the pool of light enveloping her toes, of the warm, soft breezes…

“Taylor!”

Wow, she’d drifted off. Baldwin was shouting in her ear.

“Whoa. Sorry. I put in the biofeedback session Maddee had taped for me and I must have dozed off.” She hit Stop on the disc.

“What were you listening to?”

“Maddee said it was biofeedback. She wanted me to play it before I went to sleep. It was supposed to help me relax.”

“Let me hear it. But I want you to go to the bathroom and run the water, I don’t want you listening to it. Okay?”

“Why—”

“Just do what I ask, Taylor. Please.”

“Okay.”

She set the phone by the stereo and hit Play again, then went to the bathroom, shut the door and started the water, singing “La la la la la” out loud for good measure. She could still hear a bit, but not the words. She gave it a few minutes, then went back out. Clicked the tape off and picked up the phone.

“So?” she asked Baldwin.

“That’s not biofeedback. That’s hypnosis. They’re similar in nature, of course, but… In any of your sessions, did you say things you didn’t mean to say? Share secrets?”

“Well, yes. She did hypnosis. It’s how we knew my voice was working. I could speak fine when I was under. Why? What’s on that tape?”

“Did you feel suicidal at all after you listened to it?”

She swallowed hard. This was not exactly the conversation she wanted to have. But hiding her thoughts from Baldwin wasn’t the right thing to do. She knew that now.

“Last night. I may have had a few thoughts about ending things. But I don’t feel that way now, Baldwin. I promise.”

“Don’t listen to that tape, okay? You’ll go back under. And be very careful if you talk to her. She’s put suggestions into your mind that will allow her to manipulate your thoughts.”

“Suggestions to do what?”

“Harm yourself.”

Evan.

“Baldwin. Evan. Her suicide. Could it have been Maddee? Could she have planted suggestions in head her, too?”

“Taylor, that is a distinct possibility.”

“What the hell is going on here, Baldwin?”

“I don’t know. Either they’re all working together, and she’s meant to get your walls down so Memphis can look like a hero, or she’s working alone, and has a serious grudge. You need to be doubly on your guard. You can’t trust either of them.”

“I met the woman three days ago. I’m not that abrasive, I don’t think.”

“But think about it. Maybe she has feelings for Memphis. And if that’s the case, and she isn’t the most healthy individual, she sees you as a rival. And rivals are unwelcome.”

“She’s welcome to him. This is all a bit much for me to process.”

“Well, keep processing, because if that’s the case, you’re in serious danger.”

“I’ve been doing some research. I have a file from Memphis’s office, his private file on Evan’s death. I think you’re wrong about him cheating, though the tabloids certainly made sure he looked guilty.”

“Regardless of the circumstances, Taylor, there is a controversy about her death. We don’t know the truth. Whether you believe it all or not is your business, obviously.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Baldwin. I’m the one stuck up here trying to make sense of all of this.” God, should she tell him? She might have to if she wanted him to take her seriously.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Listen. Memphis emailed me earlier. It gave me pause. Creeped me out, actually. You’re sure Memphis is nowhere around, right?”

“I haven’t heard word one from him. Why?”

“The note makes it sound like he might harm you.”

“What?”

She pulled the words from memory, recited them to him. “‘You won’t know what I’ve done to him, either.’ At first I thought he was talking about his unborn child. But I think he’s talking about you, Baldwin.”

“Taylor, listen to me. I’m at one of Atlantic’s offices in Amsterdam. I’ll be there in two hours, three at the outside.”

“You’re in Amsterdam? I thought you were in Nashville.”