by Casey Hill
They would have to get the footage over to the GFU for greater enhancement but at that point, they were both confident that the girl was indeed Holly Glynn.
“What about sound?” Kennedy asked.
“Sorry, picture only I’m afraid,” Andy said apologetically. “We’re not allowed record anything inside the car - passenger privacy, you know yourself.”
“This could certainly prove useful,” Chris said, trying to hide his enthusiasm. “Could we have a copy?”
“No worries, this is actually a copy I made myself once I knew ye were coming - you can hold onto it,” the other man said, taking a portable drive from the side of the computer and handing it to Chris.
“Thanks bud, you’ve really been very helpful,” Kennedy said.
“No worries, glad to help,” Andy said as he closed the laptop. “One other thing I did forget to mention before,” he continued, escorting the detectives out. “The lad I picked up - as I said, he was very quiet in the cab altogether. I only got a couple of yes or no answers out of him, so I figured he wasn't up for the chat. I was talking about the summer being terrible as usual - you know yourself, small talk - but he answered something along the lines that he wouldn't have to worry about shite weather for too much longer.” The driver scratched his head as the detectives went back outside. “Dunno if that’s any use to you, but sure, I said I’d tell yiz anyway.”
29
The following day, Reilly reluctantly took the day off and spent the morning tidying up the flat to ensure everything was cleared away and ready for Todd’s arrival.
As personal as things might have gotten between them in the US, she wasn’t quite ready for him to see the level of outward chaos in her life.
She surveyed the meticulously cleaned room, realizing now how lonely it looked. Nobody else had sat on the couch in weeks, the table was permanently set for one person, the other spot being the place where Reilly usually spread case files out to review while she ate.
Maybe having another person in the flat for a little while wouldn’t be such a bad thing?
By the time she pulled up to the Arrivals area at Dublin airport, she was already five minutes late. She’d forgotten what traffic on the M50 could be like and was momentarily appreciative of the fact that she didn’t need to use the infamously busy motorway to get to work.
Battling her way through the crowds to get inside - with all the talk and notice at work about her pregnancy, the gathering crowd of travellers had no qualms about ramming their elbows into her tender stomach as they hurried by, clearly more concerned about getting to and from their flights - she made her way over toward the information screens.
She couldn’t help but notice the sharp smells of the airport. The sweat of the people around her, the over applied perfume that drifted above the women, and the fresh smell of new luggage.
Some of the restaurants located just outside the arrivals area advertised some greasy all day fry-ups and Reilly felt a strange craving for the stodgy food, despite the repulsive smell.
Just as she made her way to the overhead screens to check on Todd’s flight, she heard someone calling her name.
“Reilly,” a voice said from beside her with a hint of impatience, as if the person had been trying to get her attention for a while. She barely had time to glance up at the smiling tanned face that loomed alongside her before Todd had engulfed her in a huge bear-hug. She winced a little as the force of his muscled body pushed against her tender middle, but she managed to briefly embrace him back before he let go.
She took a step back from him then, trying to gain some much needed distance. His sun-kissed hair and deeply tanned skin was a huge contrast amongst the mostly pale-skinned passers-by, and his attire (khaki shorts and a light blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt) made Todd Forrest stand out like the proverbial sore thumb.
He had obviously taken a moment to look her over as well, noticing that she was staring at him, because when she met his gaze, he launched that thousand-watt smile at her. “Man,” he said, holding her at arm's-length, “you look so … different.”
Reilly knew what that meant – she looked huge. She knew that her bump continued to grow frighteningly bigger every day, but she didn’t want to draw attention to that if she didn’t have to.
At the sight of him now in front of her, Reilly was suddenly thrust back into memories of Clearwater– the two of them together in the bright sunlight, balmy nights and laidback gulf coast atmosphere. Vacation weather was pretty much permanent in Florida; every day you walked out your door you were met with incessant sunshine.
Although, as law enforcement she and Todd both knew well that despite the cheery, bright weather, people were just as dead just as fast there, as they were in Dublin.
“And you look exactly the same,” she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. Despite his time under the sun, it didn’t look like Todd had aged at all since his twentieth birthday. It never took much for Reilly to imagine him posing on the beach, a board under one arm and a gorgeous, swimsuit clad model in the other.
And that smell… Reilly’s sensitive nose caught not only the whiff of Todd’s aftershave he’d applied that morning, but some underlying scents as well. He smelled of sweat, no doubt from the long plane ride across the Atlantic, yet still the tangy saltwater smell from the Gulf of Mexico drifted off him like it lingered in his pores. Reilly thought of all the time he spent by the water at his dad’s house right on Clearwater Beach, and realized that it probably did at this point. The gulf coast and sunshine was by now a part of Todd Forrest’s DNA.
The two walked back out into the typically cloudy Dublin grey, though it did nothing to quell Todd’s never-ending stream of smiles and optimism. He commented on everything – from the lilting Irish accents all around to the bustling travelling public. When they were back in her car, he took a deep breath and turned to her.
“So where do you want to eat? I’m ravenous. Airplane food is not my thing.”
Reilly shifted the car into gear and laughed, “Is airplane food anyone’s thing?”
She immediately thought of the pub she and the detectives sometimes went to after too many long days pouring over case files. But she couldn’t take Todd there. Her two worlds were already clashing too much with him in the city at all. And she didn’t need the friendly landlady seeing her with him and asking questions.
She decided to head further in towards the city and get the worst of the airport traffic behind her while she tried to think of somewhere suitable to go. Typically, she hadn’t considered that he’d want to eat after the nine hour flight from Orlando and subsequent connection through London.
She truly wasn’t cut out as a hostess.
When they reached a place she thought he might like on the outskirts of the city not too far from her place, Reilly parked the car a little way down the street. Todd immediately came around to the other side and opened the door for her while she was still in the driver seat. She awkwardly tumbled out, still not quite used to the additional bulk.
When they got inside the restaurant, and took a quiet table in the back, he practically tucked her into her seat, pulling it out for her beforehand.
“So how have you been?” Todd asked, once they were both seated. They’d engaged in idle chit chat in the car but she instinctively knew that this was a more pointed question about the baby. He picked up the napkin from the table and unfolded it over his lap in a measured way that reminded her of Daniel, his father.
“I’ve been okay,” she replied, surrounded by awkward tension. “The case I’m working has been moving along too slowly for my liking, my feet are constantly aching, my head is always pounding, and the kicks I get in the middle of the night don’t make for a sound sleep.” She looked up at the ceiling then, knowing she had said much more than she meant to.
Todd started laughing, “Well,” he said, “besides the middle-of-the-night kicking, some things never change.”
Reilly chuckled and relaxed a little after that
, and the two of them caught up, filling in the details of what had happened since they’d last seen each other. The waitress came and went as Todd ate ravenously but ordered more and more, and after a couple of hours, she realized the sun was nearing the horizon.
Todd must have noticed, too, because he said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. Guess we should head back to your place and get settled?”
“Yeah, I’ve got an early start in the morning,” she said, grabbing her coat and belongings. Todd walked her out, his hand touching the small of her back casually enough that she couldn’t say anything about it.
She drove the short distance home, and every time she started to yawn, Todd would try to tell her a funny thing that had happened so she could stay awake. It worked, but only because she realized she had missed Todd’s little mannerisms, not because his stories were funny.
“You can sleep here,” she said, pointing to the couch along with the pillows and blankets she had set out for him. “The bathroom is through this way, and the kitchen is over there.”
Todd looked briefly around the small flat, looking huge in the tiny living space. He paused, blankets in hand and he and Reilly looked at each other for a moment, as if they were both remembering a time when things had been very different between the two of them.
A time when they might have been stumbling in the door and struggling to find their way to the bedroom without once breaking apart.
She cleared her throat, “Good night, Todd,” she said, turning sharply to head to her bedroom, alone.
He called after her, just a moment too late, “Good night, Reilly,” and his voice managed to carry far more than the meaning of those three words. The utterance was soft and sad, and nothing like Todd, and perhaps that’s the reason the expression stood out.
As she went to close the door, she turned back briefly and watched him, her hand still on the door frame as he spread his blanket out over the couch methodically and set his pillow slanted slightly to the right, just the way he always did.
Before he could look up and see her watching him, she closed the door and climbed into her own bed, realizing not for the first time that it was empty and cold.
She wriggled around a little, trying to find a good position in the usually comfortable bed. She fell asleep shortly after Todd stopped making the usual guest noises – brushing his teeth, washing his face, and finally tossing and turning on the couch to try to find a comfortable position himself.
Reilly’s last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that he would never be able to find a comfortable position on that lumpy couch, and despite herself, she couldn’t help but think of the empty spot right next to her.
30
She woke the next morning to the smell of something cooking.
Over the years, she had done some research into the subject of nasal sensitivity and found it no surprise to discover that smell had a nasty tendency to elicit more emotional responses than any of the other senses.
For example, a man might look right past a sweater that resembled the one his ex used to wear. He might not notice a voice, identical to hers, calling across a crowded mall. But if he smells her perfume, just for a second, drifting by in the parking lot, or puffing from a cushion months later, or being spritzed in a department store, his head will be immediately bombarded by memories and emotions before he even has a chance to think.
Because that’s how smell worked – it went right through all the detours the other senses took before getting to the brain, going right through conscious thought to the part of the brain that produced emotion before you had even fully comprehended what it was you were smelling.
That’s what happened to Reilly as she woke – it wasn't often that she couldn’t identify a scent as soon as it hit her, and now thanks to the wonderful odors wafting under her door, she was hit with a sudden nostalgia for the warm nights she had spent in Todd’s place in Florida, only to be awoken by this wonderful smell.
“Heuvos Rancheros?” she said, leaning on the doorway.
Todd looked away from the pan on the stove, and the eggs sizzling away inside it, and grinned. Reilly had forgotten that she was still in the chiffon cami she wore as night clothes and she flushed, feeling suddenly exposed.
“I know they’re your favorite,” Todd remarked with a wink. He looked back down at the stove for a moment, then looked back up at her quickly, taking a sharp breath, “You look amazing, you know,” he added, nodding once as if to be sure of it, before focusing on the food again.
Reilly flushed again, her cheeks growing warmer than she would have liked. She went back into her bedroom to get dressed, struggling a little with each layer before she joined Todd in the kitchen again.
In truth, she didn’t really have time to sit down for breakfast, not if she wanted to get to the lab early enough to make up for yesterday’s day off, but she spared a few minutes to enjoy the food Todd had prepared. It was indeed her favorite and she tried not to give away how well he had prepared it, but it showed clearly on her face.
Todd knew well her fondness for Rancheros.
Soon, she pushed away from the table and moved across the living room to gather her things. She was going to be late.
“There’s a bus stop just down the road and a number for a cab company on the fridge if you need one,” she said, feeling like a mother preparing to leave her child alone for the first time. The thought struck close to home – in a few years time she would be doing just that.
With an actual child.
Todd followed her as she grabbed her bag off the floor.
“You’re going to the lab today? I thought we could maybe spend the day together?” he said, crestfallen. “We have a lot to talk about after all.”
“I’m sorry but I really do need to get to work. We’re in the middle of an investigation and it’s still early stages. You know the drill…We can talk tonight.”
“OK, see you later.” He made a move as if to kiss or embrace her, but she shut down any such action by pulling her kitbag close to her chest and moving quickly to the door.
“See you later. Enjoy Dublin.”
“Wait.” She turned to see Todd looking around, his expression confused. After a few more glances around the room, he looked up at her, his gaze inquisitive “Where’s the TV?”
She laughed out loud, remembering his obsession with reality TV. “I don’t have one,” she said, grabbing her jacket, “but there are some books in the bedroom if you get bored.”
Todd feigned a horrified look just before she closed the door to her flat, and despite herself she chuckled.
ON THE WAY TO WORK, Reilly found herself thinking about the Hackett case again, as well as the latest information concerning Holly Glynn’s attack.
The taxi-driver’s dash-cam footage confirmed the girl was indeed telling the truth about her attack happening on the way home, and that she didn't know the guy. So it looked as though their early assumption about the two incidents being connected had been proven incorrect.
But did this realization get them any further in tracking down Graham Hackett’s killer?
The details filed in, presenting themselves like files spread out over Reilly’s mind the same way she’d spread them out over a workspace.
The teenager had been beaten to death in his own bedroom, by a right-handed attacker with a hurley stick in the early hours of the morning. By then, most of the kids present at the house party had reportedly either gone home or onwards to another location. The team had isolated some potentially interesting trace from the victim’s body, but were having a hell of a time identifying what most of it was, let alone whether it would be any help with identifying his killer.
The detectives had already done a reasonable job of interviewing the friends and checking out alibis, but had found little untoward thus far.
Other than Simon of course. Graham’s older brother had been present at the party and multiple witnesses reported that he and Graham had engaged in a
verbal spat that night, just hours before the younger Hackett boy was found murdered in what was clearly a crime of passion.
To say nothing of the fact that Simon had some beef with his brother attempting to move in on the girlfriend who’d apparently broken up with him that same week, and according to the detectives, was indeed right-handed.
Another potential suspect was Dean Cooper, the former club teammate who supplied Graham Hackett, and it seemed most of the Gaelic team, with PEDs.
Thanks to Rory’s determined efforts in tracing Cooper via social media, he’d since tipped off the detectives about a gym the kid frequented, and they were due to pay him a visit today.
All the various suppositions swirled in her head as she drove, and by the time Reilly reached the lab she was more determined than ever to figure this thing out.
31
“I’m warning you people …”
As she neared her office, Reilly heard raised voices up ahead outside Jack Gorman’s domain. Her colleague’s back was to her, but she had an all too clear view of Holly Glynn’s father's angry red face, shouting at her GFU counterpart.
“You are spending more time on helping a dead body than finding my daughter’s attacker,” Glynn was complaining. “That bastard is still out there, walking around scot-free. He could be out hurting some other innocent girl as we speak!”
“Mr. Glynn,” Reilly said, approaching the two men, “did it not occur to you that whoever murdered Graham Hackett could also potentially be out there, right now, hurting someone else?”
Michael Glynn quieted as he turned to look at her. His mouth shut as he remembered Reilly as the female investigator who’d spoken to his daughter at the hospital. He took a step back from her, and she noted the jaded look that came over his face. “There is nothing more important than finding the animal that hurt my daughter,” he said, finally. “Nothing. The Hackett boy is dead and gone, but my daughter has to live in fear until someone finds the son of a bitch and throws him in a cage.”
