TAYLOR HAD SLEPT ON THE SMALL SOFA IN EVAN’S ROOM LAST night when Jack returned from Boston. Instead of the discussion they’d had offering any resolution, it had only made things worse and she’d been too angry to lie next to him. It was not yet dawn, but she slipped from Evan’s room and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. As she sat sipping it in the dark, she replayed their argument in her mind.
“I spoke to Sybil, and she is sick. I need to do this for her,” Jack had told Taylor.
“Do what exactly? What’s the plan?” she’d asked.
“I’m not sure yet. Sybil said she’d call me after she picked up Dakota’s passport at the bank.”
She’d shaken her head, pacing. “I don’t like it. I don’t trust Dakota.”
He said, “But I spoke with Sybil and I trust her. You remember how she testified on my behalf during Dakota’s trial when she tried to blame me for what she’d done. Sybil is the reason I survived that ordeal, and I can’t turn my back on her now.”
“I understand that, Jack. But why did Dakota call you if she doesn’t have some other agenda? You haven’t spoken to her in two years but you’re the only person in the entire world who can help her? She’s up to something. You can’t trust her.”
He’d given Taylor a long look. “I know that. I don’t trust her. But you have to trust me. I’m playing it like I do because I want to know what she’s really up to. You know the saying, Keep your enemies—”
She put a hand up. “Do not quote The Godfather to me. This is serious. No good can come from your having any contact with her.”
He’d tried to pull her to him then, but she pushed him away. “Taylor, you can’t really be worried that I have feelings for her.”
She was so outraged, she couldn’t speak at first. “Is that what you think? That I’m jealous of her? Of course I don’t think you have feelings for her. If you did . . . I mean . . . after everything. I’m worried about you. Us. Our family. She’s a dangerous psychopath. But the fact that you could think for even one second that this is about insecurity . . . it’s really sad. I thought we’d come further than that.” She’d turned and stomped out of the room, and he hadn’t gone after her.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, Taylor went into the living room and lay down the sofa. Maybe she’d just rest for a little while longer. The next thing she knew, the sun coming through the window woke her up. She heard Jack’s and Evan’s voices in the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that it was close to eight. She rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen, where Jack was making pancakes.
He turned to her as she walked in. “Morning. Hungry?”
She shook her head and took a seat next to Evan at the table.
“Mama!” He reached out a sticky hand to touch her cheek.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said to Evan, then looked up at Jack. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”
“No prob. I was awfully lonely last night.” He glanced at her quickly then came to the table with the rest of the pancakes.
She didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was an ass. I promise you, I’m not going to do anything without talking to you first. Please, let’s not let this tear us apart.”
She felt her resolve weaken, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “What I want you to say is that you won’t do anything without clearing it with me first. But promise me you won’t do anything more than talk to her so we can figure out the best way to proceed together.”
He nodded. “Of course. I promise. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Jack leaned over and kissed her and Taylor gave his arm a tight squeeze. She meant what she said last night about being worried rather than jealous. But she couldn’t deny that the visceral reaction she had to hearing Dakota’s name was jealousy. Dakota had stolen Jack from her all those years ago and even though Taylor knew he would never betray her again, especially with Dakota, all the old wounds had burst open. But he was right about one thing, they couldn’t let Dakota rip them apart again. And taking opposite sides on this issue would definitely do that.
“I also asked Jeremy to come to dinner with Georgia tonight,” she said. “Can you set up the fire pit on the front porch? I want to have cocktails and appetizers out there.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “But first, let me get Evan outside. You want to do the swings, buddy?”
Evan nodded and Jack scooped him up and took him to the backyard, leaving Taylor with a quiet moment to plan for the evening. She was looking forward to seeing Georgia. After their interview yesterday, she’d picked up a copy of her latest book, Infidelity: Are Your Genes to Blame?, but had been too busy, and too upset about Dakota, to crack it open. Regardless, she knew the conversation tonight would be lively and interesting.
Taylor pulled out a pad and made a list of what still needed to get done—florist, grocery store, and bakery. If she left now, she should finish by noon. She dropped the pad when she heard a scream from outside and ran to the window.
Evan was crying and kicking at Jack, who was doing his best to calm him down.
She flung the door open and tore outside. “What’s wrong?”
Jack gave her a perplexed look. “I have no idea. All of a sudden, he just started screaming out, out and then when I tried to lift him, he started yelling no and hitting me. Have you noticed he’s been a little off lately?”
Taylor held her arms out to Evan and he flung himself toward her, burying his head in her shoulder and crying inconsolably. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Sleep.”
She frowned. He’d been awfully tired lately. “Okay, sweetie, let’s go lie down for a bit.”
When they got inside, she put him on their bed and was about to leave when he pulled her hand. “No. Stay. Mama stay.”
There went the rest of her morning, but she didn’t have the heart to leave him. “Okay.” She wrapped her arms around him, and he pressed against her, his chest still heaving up and down from his sobs. After a few minutes, he calmed down, and soon she could tell from his even breathing that he’d fallen asleep. She was afraid to move and disturb him, so Taylor closed her eyes. A trip to the pediatrician was warranted—something wasn’t right. She had a leaden feeling in her stomach and tried to dismiss the dread that suddenly overcame her. She didn’t know what she would do if something was seriously wrong. Praying silently, she told herself she was overreacting. He was just tired. Kids got tired. Maybe he’d been wearing himself out at daycare.
After his breaths turned to soft snores, she extricated herself from under Evan’s arm and snuck back to the kitchen, where Jack was working on his laptop while Beau chewed a bone on the floor.
“He asleep?”
She nodded. “He’s been having a lot of tantrums lately. It’s so unlike him.”
Jack tilted his head. “Could be a stage. Maybe the terrible twos are here early?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know. He’s so irritable and tired all time. I think I’m going to try to work from home or adjust my schedule to go in when you’re here, so he’s not in daycare.”
He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know . . . you said he liked it there. I’m traveling most of next week. I’m hoping I’ll have enough for the story at that point—I definitely will if it turns out this meth is the connection.”
“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. I’ll take him to the pediatrician first thing Monday morning.”
Jack nodded. “Can’t hurt.” He stood up. “Listen, why don’t you let me go do your errands? That way if he wakes up, you’re here. I have a feeling he needs Mommy more than Daddy today.”
“That would be great. I can get a head start on getting things ready here while you’re out. Let me give you my list.”
A few minutes later, Jack was out the door, and Taylor made herself a cup of tea. She turned the television on while she straightened up, but soon stopped, sponge still in her hand, when she heard a breaking news announcement. She threw down the sponge and grabbed the television remote, turning up the volume.
“What we’re about to show you is very graphic and disturbing, and not recommended for young audiences.” The screen flashed a grainy cell-phone video that showed Pastor Montgomery Pearson, a megachurch preacher whose television show attracted over five million viewers every Sunday; he was so popular, he often held Saturday services. He was speaking fast, his words becoming almost jumbled.
“The time is at hand. Spiritual battles are everywhere. Your fight isn’t against flesh and blood but against the spiritual forces in dark places.” He pointed to a man in the crowd and screamed: “Like him! He looks like a man, but that’s a demon masquerading as a man.” His wife, who always sat at the piano, ran over to him, whispered in his ear, and looked past the camera, nodding to someone unseen. The pastor grabbed her by the shoulders and yelled, “You’re a Jezebel trying to trick me! To the grave with you!” With speed that didn’t seem possible, he grabbed a drumstick from a set of drums behind him and stabbed her in the eye with it. The crowd erupted in screams, and she howled in agony as she fell backward off the stage.
Seconds later, security guards grabbed the pastor and pulled him away. Before they could stop him, he freed himself and leapt from the thirty-foot stage and crashed to the floor below.
The video stopped and the anchor was back. “Pastor Pearson and his wife were taken to University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, where their conditions are unknown. We’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”
Taylor felt like all the air had been sucked out of her. What the hell had she just seen? She sank down into a kitchen chair, reeling. This was just insane. His children were in that audience. How were they ever going to get over what they’d just witnessed? His followers would be devastated. She thought back to a conversation she’d had with Jeremy when they’d first met about how Damon Crosse liked to make the church, in all its forms, look bad. If Damon Crosse weren’t dead, she would have sworn it was somehow his doing . . . but that was impossible. Though he did have successors they weren’t aware of . . .
Suddenly she felt exposed, nervous. She thought about what Jack had witnessed the other night so close to their house. It felt like there was nowhere safe. She went to the bedroom to peek in at Evan, who was still sound asleep. She hoped he was going to be in a better mood tonight.
When Jack came home, Taylor practically ran to him. “Did you hear the news about Montgomery Pearson?”
He frowned. “No. What?”
“He went crazy, ranting on air.” She took a deep breath. “He put a drumstick through his wife’s eye, then threw himself off the stage. The whole thing caught was on video. He looked insane.”
Jack pulled out his phone and searched for the video, his mouth dropping open and his face turning white as he watched. He shook his head. “What the hell? How could he . . . This is unbelievable! You think he was on meth, too?”
Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. Could have been . . . but it just seems unlikely. His reputation has been spotless for over twenty years.”
“I’m gonna go make a few calls. You okay or do you need help right now?”
“You go. I’m going to get the food ready. I just want to stay busy and try to get that image out of my mind.”
* * *
A few hours later, Taylor looked in again on Evan, who was still asleep, and the familiar clench in her stomach returned. Why was he so tired? Monday couldn’t get here fast enough—she really needed to talk to the pediatrician. She was about to leave the bedroom when he called out a “Mama.”
She went over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Hi, sweetie. You hungry?”
He nodded. “Hungy. Want cookie.”
She laughed. “After dinner. Come on, let’s get up.” She changed him and he followed her to the kitchen.
Beau ran up and licked his face and Evan giggled. “Doggy.” He sat on the floor and Beau continued to kiss him.
“Okay, that’s enough. He doesn’t need a bath.” She gently scolded Beau and picked Evan up to put him in his highchair, but he started fussing and pointing to the table.
“Okay, don’t cry.” She pulled out the booster seat and attached it to a chair. He climbed up, happier.
After Evan finished eating, Taylor put on his favorite movie, Elmo in Grouchland, in the playroom off the kitchen. He sat with his blankie and stuffed dinosaur, absorbed, while she put the appetizers in the oven.
An hour later, Georgia was the first to arrive, right on time. She looked elegant in a pair of tailored black slacks with a beautiful embroidered sky-blue top. True to her word, she had brought wine—a bottle of red and a bottle of white.
Beau ambled over and greeted her, his tail thumping back and forth as she petted his head. “What a beautiful golden,” she said to Taylor after greeting her and handing her the bottles. “I lost mine last year. He was the love of my life.”
“I’m sorry. How old was he?”
“Fourteen. I was lucky to have him for so long. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”
Taylor agreed, “It sure doesn’t.” She shuddered, thinking about losing Beau. She didn’t know exactly how old he was; when she’d found him on the street, the vet had estimated that he was around two. That meant he was close to six now, and they’d already been through so much together.
“Shall we go out on the deck?” Taylor suggested, and Georgia followed her outside, where Jack and Evan sat on a love seat, reading a board book.
Jack quickly rose to greet them. “So nice to meet you. Taylor has been raving about you. I’m so glad you could join us tonight. What can I get you to drink? Wine, soda, scotch?”
Georgia smiled. “I’d love a scotch.”
“You got it.”
Before they could sit, Jeremy arrived, then Jack brought out the drinks. After introductions were made, and everyone made a fuss over Evan, Georgia tilted her head, looking at Jeremy.
“Have we met before?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You look so familiar, and I don’t usually forget a face. You haven’t done any lecturing at UConn Stamford, have you?”
“No, but my lab is in Stamford, so maybe you’ve seen me in passing.”
She waved her hand and smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you now.” They stayed outside for the next hour, chatting and nibbling on apps. Taylor went inside, where she put the roast and the side dishes on the table and called everyone in. As they sat down to dinner, Evan was already asleep again—Jack had taken him to his room a little while ago and came out a few minutes later, saying he hadn’t put up a fuss when he’d settled him into bed.
Georgia cleared her throat. “So, Jack, Taylor told me you’re working on a story about a series of murder-suicides. I hadn’t realized there was a pattern, but with that news of Pastor Pearson this morning”—she blew out a breath—“I don’t know what to make of it.”
Jack said, “I can’t believe the news played footage that graphic. I’m still reeling from it. How could anyone, but especially a pastor, do that?”
“Do you have any theories?” Georgia asked.
“I still need more information, but between us, I’ve been able to find out two of the perpetrators had methamphetamine in their systems.”
She nodded. “Well, that could explain a lot. Methamphetamine causes changes to the brain and floods it with dopamine, a feel-good chemical. But sometimes the rapid change can cause meth-induced psychosis—hallucinations and delusions. That would all fit with what I saw on that video.”
“Both the families Jack interviewed were shocked about the drug abuse,” Taylor said. “Wouldn’t it be surprising for it to go unnoticed?”
“It would be very unusual for someone using meth not to attract any notice for it,” Georgia said. “You’ve all seen pictures of addicts. Is it possible they were drugged against their wills? Or that a batch of meds was tainted?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Jack said. “I’m trying to find something that ties them all together but so far nothing.”
Georgia nodded. “Although, even if a supply of meds was tampered with, the likelihood is slim that it would trigger a psychotic episode in everyone who took it.”
“Maybe, or maybe not,” Jeremy said. “What if someone deliberately altered the drug so it would affect the brain in a specific way . . . putting, say, ecstasy in the mix, which damages the serotonin receptors? That combined with the meth could ramp up the violence.”
“Interesting,” Georgia said. “But this wouldn’t be a common drug pusher. That would have to be the work of a sophisticated scientist with a lab.”
“Someone with a good knowledge of chemistry could concoct something like that,” Jeremy said.
“You mean like Breaking Bad?” Georgia asked.
Taylor looked at her in surprise. “You watched Breaking Bad?”
Georgia chuckled. “I had to know what all the fuss was about.”
“Something like that,” Jeremy said. “It doesn’t preclude it being a plan on a larger scale, I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be.”
Jack put a hand up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All we know right now is that two women with meth in their systems had psychotic breaks in which they committed murder-suicides. We have no idea what happened with Pastor Pearson. It’s way too soon to be jumping to these kinds of conclusions.”
“I have to agree with Jack,” Georgia said. “Even though I’m not a big believer in coincidences, it could be nothing more than that. If you aren’t careful, you can focus on the wrong thing and miss the real connections.” She took a sip of wine, then continued. “When you’re driving, have you ever looked at the traffic light and been so focused on it that you almost run into the car a few feet in front of you?”
Taylor nodded vigorously. “Yes! I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve done that more than once.”
“If you find out that any more of these people had the drug in their system, then I’d say it’s more than a coincidence,” Jeremy said.
“Agreed. I’ve already started asking around to see if anyone knows anything about a tainted drug supply,” Jack said.
They ate quietly for a few minutes, before Taylor turned to Georgia and smiled. “Georgia is an author and I’ve just gotten her latest book, which is on infidelity. It sounds intriguing. She hypothesizes that cheating may be more linked to our genetic makeup than we realize.”
Jack looked skeptical. “Um, that’s a pretty interesting assertion. I think we’d all like to hear more.”
“Well, men have tended to wander more than women, as a result of their evolutionary instinct to produce more offspring—that’s always been chalked up to genetics,” Georgia began. “But now studies have shown that women with certain variations in the vasopressin receptor gene are more prone to infidelity and extra pair bonding.”
“What’s vasopressin?” Jack asked.
“A hormone that affects sexual bonding and trust,” she answered.
“Are you saying we have no control over our behaviors?” Taylor asked.
Georgia shook her head. “Not at all. Less than 50 percent of women with one of the five variants were found in the study to be promiscuous. Of course, there are other factors, but it is statistically significant, which could mean that it makes it harder for certain women to withstand the temptation to bond with other males.”
“Maybe a genetic screening should be mandatory before marriage,” Jack joked.
“I’d like to read this book,” Jeremy said. “It sounds fascinating. I’ve already started reading your book on ethics and the brain. I bought it when Taylor told me you’d be coming tonight.”
Georgia smiled. “I’m honored.”
The rest of the evening passed enjoyably, and the party broke up close to nine. Evan hadn’t roused at all. Taylor put a hand on his head again to check for a fever, but he didn’t feel warm. Later, as she drifted off to sleep, the image of the woman from her dream filled her mind again and made her shiver.
Stop being silly. Everything is fine, she chastised herself. But what if wasn’t? She knew better than anyone that bad things could happen and often did. Despite her wanting to believe that everything would be okay, she couldn’t shake the idea that something terrible was waiting.