Endgame: CSI Reilly Steel #7

by Casey Hill

“I’m fine, thanks for the concern,” he responded gruffly, stuffing another bite of greens in his mouth. Irrespective that he’d never met the guy, he couldn’t get the visual of Reilly and Todd Forrest together under the same roof out of his mind.

  Alone, together, cooing over their impending new arrival. Her admission earlier had knocked him for six and while he did his best to conceal his surprise not to mention annoyance, he wasn't so good at concealing his resultant mood.

  Kennedy muttered something under his breath and Chris ignored it, certain it was better for the both of them if he didn't hear what he had said. He was always muttering something or other under his breath, and Chris never knew whether or not he was meant to hear it.

  He had to wonder again what exactly, Todd’s relationship with Reilly was. He knew of course that they’d had a torrid affair during her time in Florida, but was she in love with the guy? Did she potentially want to spend the rest of her life with the father of her child, raising it together?

  And likely in the US.

  It made sense, if Chris thought about it objectively. Reilly was American, her baby’s father was too, so it was only logical that their child should grow up in the States, with his or her two all-American parents with their perfect white teeth and bright smiles…

  Would Forrest’s visit herald the start of that process?

  “You’ve hardly touched your rabbit food,” Kennedy said, wiping his face with a napkin, then balling it up and tossing it on his now-empty plate. The older man wasn’t stupid – he had an idea why Chris was off-form, “so either tell me what’s up, or suck it up so we can get the job done.”

  Chris looked up at him, grateful for his partner’s intervention into his quickly deteriorating thoughts. He pushed his salad away, his appetite as absent as it had been when they walked in, and slid out from under the table.

  “You’re right,” he said, standing up, “let’s just get this job done.”

  20

  “So we’ve now definitively ruled out any recent sexual contact between Graham Hackett and Holly Glynn, but there is … ” Lucy had been speaking when she entered Reilly’s office, and when the younger tech finally looked up from the lab reports she was holding, she saw her boss and mentor sitting behind her desk, her head in her hands.

  The grey from outside was pushing its way into Reilly’s office too, and it only managed to wash her out in a light of sadness. Lucy tried to decide whether she should go to her and comfort her, or if she should just leave. They were close but their relationship had always been one-sided - Reilly the one helping her.

  She finally concluded that perhaps Reilly would prefer if she didn’t see her in such a vulnerable state, so she turned to the door to make her silent exit.

  Reilly snapped her head up before she could leave, however. She inclined her head toward the report, with only a hint of a wobble in her voice, “There is what?”

  Lucy swallowed and stepped back inside, quietly closing the door behind her, before looking back down at the report in her hand. “There is definitely matching trace evidence from both scenes. Julius extracted epithelial DNA as you know, we’ve run the comparisons and he’s now confirmed it as definitely being from Holly Glynn.”

  Reilly ran her ponytail through her hand thoughtfully, before continuing on as though Lucy hadn’t just walked in on her in a vulnerable state. “Any luck in narrowing down any of the other trace?”

  Lucy tried her utmost not to look at Reilly’s face and glanced back down at her notes, “We’ve isolated many different components rolled from the victim’s body, but have yet to identify some of them. Gary has been focusing on one substance in particular, and though he doesn’t have all of the chemicals figured out yet, he thinks it might be some kind of undiluted soap or shampoo or something. There’s also some interesting organic trace that might be …”

  Reilly nodded and cleared her throat, “Okay. Why don’t you head back to the Hackett house before it’s released, and take samples of all the shampoos and body wash you can find. Then if we can narrow it down to one of those, we can rule it out as being significant.”

  “Of course.” Lucy nodded again, tucking her papers under her arm in her haste to leave the room. Despite herself, her eyes darted from Reilly’s face to her ever-expanding girth and Reilly knew what she had concluded.

  Once everyone at the lab found out about her pregnancy, all of them had been treating her differently. As well they should when these days she was liable to fall to pieces at the slightest provocation.

  It looked as though Lucy was going to leave, so Reilly gratefully sunk back into her chair, but then the door was opening again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy asked, her expression showing obvious concern. She closed the door behind her to give the two of them privacy.

  Reilly shook her head, knowing that the younger tech just wanted to comfort her, but wanting to scream at her to leave. Most of her emotions were intensified from the pregnancy, and she knew that she really wasn’t mad at Lucy, just frustrated in general.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, trying to regain her authority. But the ball of emotion in her throat was still there, and it came through in the slight wobble and distinctly higher pitch of her voice. She cleared her throat again and said, “Go get those samples.”

  For the first time in her career, Lucy ignored a direct order from her superior and did her best to don a logical tone, one she knew Reilly would respond to.

  “Cut the crap,” she said, throwing her notes on one of the other chairs and taking a few more steps up to the desk. “I just came in here and saw you upset. The evidence clearly shows that you are not fine, and now I am gathering more information to try and determine what I can do to alleviate your distress.”

  Reilly ran her hand over the smooth leather of her chair, feeling a flutter of humor rise up in her throat. “Lucy, I’m fine honestly. While I appreciate your power of deduction, I’d rather you focused it on the current case, and not on my emotional … ” With that, her voice broke off as her mind wandered through her spiel to Lucy, and brought her back to the reasons she was upset in the first place, sending a fresh wave of emotion through her. Defiant tears brimmed in her eyes.

  Lucy rushed over to her, attempting to comfort her but Reilly held her hands up, attempting to ward her off, but still she moved around and put a reassuring hand on her arm. “When Grace disappeared all those years ago,” she said, “my parents were there to comfort me and help me get through it.”

  She felt a few moments pass as Reilly said nothing, then Lucy continued, “When last year - thanks to you - we finally found out the truth, my folks and friends were there to comfort me too. And you helped give us the closure we needed. Just like with a physical injury, you’re never going to heal if you don’t let someone take care of you. You can’t walk around on a broken leg and expect it just to heal. You have to let someone help you.”

  Reilly took a few seconds to calm herself, then turned to Lucy. “Thank you, but honestly I’m fine - just tired,” she said sincerely, though deep down knew that the younger woman was right. She needed to purge.

  Maybe when Todd arrived she could discuss all of this with him - outline all her fears and worries - irrational or otherwise. He worked in the same field so would surely understand.

  He’d also promised on multiple occasions that he’d be there to help her every step of the way.

  But try as she might, Reilly couldn't imagine Todd Forrest being able to comfort or reassure her in the way that Chris had done the last time she’d fallen victim to overwhelming emotion.

  And she wondered if it was this realisation that made everything feel so hopeless.

  21

  “Next up…. Megan Wright - friend of the Glynn girl apparently,” Kennedy said, checking the name against another partygoer the GFU had provided. The report was a comprehensive biography that included the girl’s name, address, age, height, even her weight… as well as her most recent Instagram pos
t: a picture of a coffee cup and a biscuit.

  Kennedy shook his head; that kid who sat in the GFU computer room all day staring at screens had really outdone himself. For the life of him, he could never remember the guy’s name but what did it matter. Techies … they were all the same.

  He and Chris made their way to the door. Seventeen year old Megan was obviously expecting them, and she opened the door before they even knocked. Her bright green eyes shone out from under a pair of thick rimmed black glasses, and her dark brown hair was pulled up into a high bun on top of her head.

  She was dressed in lounge clothes; a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. It was apparent by her wide eyes and fidgety manner that the girl had never been involved with the police before, and she seemed incredibly nervous, if not resigned to the fact that they were bound to show up at her door.

  “How are you doing, Megan?” Chris began kindly, once they were seated in the house, wanting to warm her up before they got to the actual line of questioning. “I know Graham was your friend. Holly too.”

  “Well …” she said, swallowing and licking her lips, “I mean, not so great really. Graham is dead and my best friend was practically raped. And I…” she trailed off as she started to tear up.

  “Why don’t you just walk us through the details; everything that happened the night of the party,” he urged gently.

  “Well,” she began again, “Holly, Sarah, Lisa and I were all at Lisa’s house when Graham Whatsapped us about a party he was having that night. His parents were away and he had a free house. So we decided we might pop over there later. We were in good form and in the mood to celebrate, with the exams being over and everything. Lisa’s parents are pretty cool so they let us have a few drinks there, and Sarah brought along a bottle of vodka. Though Lisa’s folks didn’t know about that - we drank it in her room. You won’t tell anyone? She would get in serious trouble.”

  Chris assured her through gritted teeth that her secret was safe, but he wondered why the parents had been so lax about seventeen year olds getting hammered under their own roof. Then again, would they really have been able to stop it? If the kids didn’t drink at the house, they’d do so elsewhere.

  “By the time we got to Graham’s house, we were all fairly… well on.” Here Megan gave the detectives a guilty look. Evidently a euphemism for ‘blind drunk’, Chris figured. “I don’t really remember what we did there other than dance a bit and have the craic, but I do remember there was this one lad, and he was hot, or at least I thought so at the time. He looked to be older, college guy. I think he was one of Simon’s mates.”

  Chris nodded, satisfied that this so far checked out with Holly Glynn’s account of events that night.

  “So … we got chatting, flirted a little and eventually he asked if I wanted to go somewhere a little quieter. We walked down to the trees behind the house, and I thought he was fun, he seemed really nice …” At this point in the story, Megan started sobbing again.

  “On our way out,” she said through her sniffles, “we saw a few others on the back deck - Graham was there I think, and definitely Holly. When Holly saw me with Simon’s friend she came after us.” Megan rolled her eyes a little. “She’s always acting like a kind of mother to the rest of us, holding us back and stopping us from hooking up with just anyone … you know.” At this, she reddened massively and Chris had to try to remind himself that this was a seventeen year old girl talking about ‘hooking up’ with complete strangers.

  He worried for little Rachel his god-daughter, and what she would have to face by the time she reached Megan’s age.

  “So me and the guy … Peter his name was … we ducked and dived a bit until we lost her.” Megan was really crying now, her tears rolling out in thick sobs. “We thought it was funny.”

  Kennedy found a box of tissues on the table next to her and handed her one so she could collect herself.

  “I didn’t see her again for the rest of the night. Simon’s mate and I … hooked up in a field behind the house. Afterwards, I went back inside, and when I couldn’t find Holly, and as most of the others had gone home, I assumed she’d gone too.”

  “Peter…do you happen to remember his surname?”

  “I didn’t ask,” she said guiltily. “It was my fault wasn’t it? What happened to Holly. I went off with some guy and left her, which meant she had to walk home on her own and was attacked …”

  “We’re not sure what or why it happened,” Chris said, hoping to move her off the subject of Holly a little. It was an important aspect of their investigation yes, but the whys and wheretofores of Graham Hackett’s murder was more central.

  “What can you tell us about Graham? You two were friends?”

  “Yes, I didn’t know him very well though - he and Holly were closer. I still can’t believe he’s dead… who would want to - ”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. You said that you noticed Graham and Holly together out on the decking that night. Can you remember who else was in that group?

  “Well, his brother, a couple of other guys from the team - the usual crowd. I don’t know; I really didn’t take much notice.”

  “What about your…friend Peter - did he also go back to the house after your … encounter?”

  She reddened again. “Yeah, I think so. We walked back together but I went upstairs to look for my friends and I don’t know where he went after, sorry. But you couldn’t think - he’s a nice guy - he wouldn’t…”

  “Again, we’re just trying to piece together events on the night Megan, we’re not suggesting anything. You’re sure you don’t know Peter’s surname? But you said he was a friend of Simon’s.”

  “I think so because he was older, but I can’t say for sure. He could just as easily have been one of Dean’s mates.”

  “Dean?” That was the second time the guy’s name had come up in the student interviews - Tiernan had pegged him as Graham Hackett’s steroid provider - but there was no mention of him on the GFU info as yet.

  “Yes, he hangs around with the team mostly. I’ve spoken to him a couple of times but I don’t really know him, or anything.” Now Megan looked guilty afresh, as she obviously wondered whether or not the detectives were aware of the guy’s illegal activities.

  He hangs around with the team…

  “What’s Dean’s surname, Megan?”

  “I’m not sure to be honest - he doesn't go the same school as us. Goes to Andrew’s.”

  Private school, Chris realized, surprised and cursed himself for his innate bias. He’d been imagining some scumbag dealer from a shady part of town, but it sounded like this particular dealer’s family was minted.

  Clearly they needed to find this Dean and have a word.

  “I’VE BEEN DIGGING a little deeper into the older brother,” Rory told Reilly, just as she was about to head for home.

  It was after seven pm but he was pretty much working round the clock on the online aspect of the Hackett investigation. “Seems there’s a little more to Simon that meets the eye.”

  “How so?” she asked, again mindful of Chris’s adamant suspicion of the brother.

  The computer tech pushed his chair over to an adjoining terminal and woke the screen from its sleep. “I’ve been backtracking, and a couple of Facebook memories on Graham’s profile from five or six years back - as far as Simon’s secondary school days - reveal that big bro was quite the Gaelic star - even better than his brother.”

  “Facebook memories?” Reilly wrinkled her nose. “Those annoying little reminders of old posts or pictures that appear out of nowhere now and again?”

  “Not out of nowhere; - they’re set up to appear automatically on the corresponding day you shared the info or photo. It’s supposed to incite nostalgia - like an anniversary of sorts.”

  “Wonderful. So what kind of nostalgic moments did Graham post featuring Simon?” She leaned forward to look at the pictures Rory indicated of the older Hackett brother hurling on the pitch, a
nd some of him with fellow team members. She shuddered a little, reminded of the damage the sports implement they were so innocently using could do to a human body.

  Hurling: a cross between hockey and murder …

  “That’s not all,” Rory said, clicking through more posts, “seems Simon played Gaelic games throughout secondary school, and even in uni for a bit. But once his studies started becoming too overwhelming I suppose, he gave up sport and started to focus on exams and whatnot.”

  “Okay, but…”

  “I also looked through some of the posts other people were making about Simon quitting. His teammates were upset for starters – seems big bro was pretty good. No one seemed happy with his decision, least of all his brother. Look at this one from Graham, posted just a couple of days after Simon announces he’s packing it in…”

  Some people just don’t take the game seriously… smh.

  “SMH?” Reilly asked, figuring it was Simon’s initials. They’d have to find out his middle initial to be sure. When she said as much to Rory he started laughing, nearly doubling over in his chair and Reilly watched him, bewildered.

  When the lab tech had recovered a little, he wiped his eyes and said, “SMH means shaking my head, Reilly.”

  “Oh. OK.” She rolled her eyes, feeling older and more out of touch than ever.

  “So given that the brothers had some big argument the night of the murder, I wondered if this might be related. With tensions already high after Graham’s big brother gave up Gaelic, and by all accounts everyone seemed disappointed in the decision, maybe something Graham said about that might have sent Simon over the edge?”

  Reilly nodded. “I’ll flag it up with the detectives.”

  She thought about Graham Hackett’s body, senselessly beaten to death with a hurl on the floor of his own bedroom.

  Something had certainly sent someone over the edge that night.

  22

  The following morning, Chris and Kennedy walked into a lively youth hangout cafe, both men uneasy and out of place.