Endgame: CSI Reilly Steel #7

by Casey Hill

  After Dr. Moore finished up the ultrasound and checked Reilly’s blood pressure and weight, the two of them left the doctor’s office.

  When they got back to the car, Todd opened the door for her again and this time Reilly simply said, “Thank you.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT she tossed and turned, trying to avoid a cramp in her side, and flipped the lamp on her side table on. Her room was bathed in a soft glow, and she sighed back against her pillows with the effort.

  Todd was asleep on her sofa again, though he had seemed a little put out when she set pillows and blankets on the edge of the nice couch, almost like tonight he had expected an invitation to her bedroom.

  It seemed to Reilly that he was remembering their time together in a different light than she – to her, their fling had been fun and fleeting, but Todd seemed to think those nights they’d shared had meant a lot more.

  She reached over the side of the bed and pulled her files onto the bedspread, opening them and looking through the notes they had gathered throughout the Hackett case. It was a habit she fell into when she was feeling down or off about something – going through the details of a case created comforting grooves in her brain, like a record track she could go over and over again.

  The rest of the night passed without sleep, and she finally pulled herself out of bed hours before she needed to be up. She went to the bathroom and drew a bath, sinking into the warm water and letting the bubbles engulf her. The scent of lavender floated through the room and calmed her frayed nerves.

  She had just begun to fully relax when the door opened and a tired Todd stumbled in, so intent on heading to the toilet, he didn’t even notice Reilly in the tub until he was halfway there. She should have remembered to lock the door, but she lived alone so the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

  He stopped in his tracks when he saw her and rubbed at his eyes, a sleepy apology falling from his lips as he woke up more, realizing he had walked in on her. The bubbles were mostly concealing, but the very top of her bump rose up out of the water, and his eyes caught on it.

  She sunk further beneath the foam. “Could you shut the door behind you?” she asked, glaring as he stumbled all the way back to the door. Her tranquility disturbed, she pulled herself out of the tub and dried off.

  It took her almost twenty minutes to prepare for work whereas pre-Blob she could do it in five. She pulled on a loose fitting work shirt over her head, then slowly wiggled her pants on before sitting down on her bed, awkwardly reaching down to her feet to put her socks on.

  It hadn’t been nearly this hard the week before.

  She had been so intent on trying to pull the sock on, she hadn’t noticed a dark form slipping through the doorway and into the room.

  Todd kneeled down at Reilly’s feet and gently took the sock from her, pulling it up snugly over her foot.

  He smelled of sleep and the cologne he had been wearing the night before, and the scent stuck in her nostrils as he pulled her other sock on for her. Then he found her brogue shoes and slipped them on, tying the laces for her, all without a word.

  When he had finished, Todd rose to his feet and kissed her on the forehead, before going back to the couch.

  He was asleep again when she walked through the living area to the front door, and Reilly stopped for a moment to watch his chest rise and fall, her mind a myriad thoughts she couldn't process.

  33

  “I already told you everything I know!”

  Chris raised his eyebrows at Simon Hackett from his place across the spotless grey interview table.

  Now pretty much out of options, he and Kennedy had asked Graham’s brother to come down to the station that morning for another interview, hoping that some sustained pressure might reveal something they’d missed. “Really? You didn’t omit anything? Like maybe about how you bought alcohol for underage teens?”

  Simon let out a puff of air and threw his hands in the air, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, I bought some booze for a couple of kids celebrating graduation. Big deal. Is that it?”

  Chris stood up from his seat at the table, “You also conveniently forgot to tell us about the bust-up you and Graham got into that night. Did you really think we wouldn’t hear about it?”

  Simon rolled his eyes, “Oh for godssake, we’re brothers. We get into bust-ups all the time. Am I under arrest? Are these pathetic questions the reason you dragged me down here? Why aren't you out searching for my brother’s killer instead of wasting time on this underage drinking bullshit!”

  Chris sat down in front of Simon, his calm demeanor surprisingly contradictory to his inner frustration with the boy. “But this wasn’t just any argument, was it Simon?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, with another eye roll.

  Chris placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, “We have several people telling us it was a rather heated argument, wasn’t it? Graham brought up your failed hurling career, and your ex-girlfriend, Rebecca.”

  “She has nothing to do with this!” Simon snapped, finally coming out of his cool and collected composure.

  Chris stopped and raised an eyebrow, “It doesn’t hit a nerve to find out that she actually preferred your little brother? That Graham was the real reason she dumped you?”

  Simon looked like someone had punched him in the gut. He swallowed, hard and gripped the table in front of him.

  “It doesn’t bother you at all that your little brother, not only a far more skilled sportsman managed to steal your girl right out from under your nose too? And after you spend so much time helping him with his exams, he disrespects you and embarrasses you in front of everyone?”

  Simon shook his head and looked up, “I didn’t kill my brother!”

  Chris sat back down and leant back in his chair. “Then who did?”

  Simon clenched his fists and looked up at Chris with tears in his eyes, “You think if I knew that I wouldn’t have already killed them myself? You think I’m just walking around, not noticing the fact that my little brother was beaten to death in the room across from mine? You think I don’t feel that every second of every day? You think I wouldn’t have done everything in my power to keep him safe?” At this point Simon was near screaming, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Chris narrowed his eyes, still not convinced. “What did you see that night Simon?”

  “Nothing. I already told you.”

  Chris stood up and gathered his things from the table. “Then we’re finished here.”

  Simon stood up, the color returning to his face. Before Chris could leave, he turned to him and said in sorrowful voice, “You may think that I killed Graham. You may think that I’m heartless enough to beat my little brother to death like that and you may lock me up for the rest of my life for something I didn’t do, but I didn’t do it. There was nobody in the world I loved more than him. Not my parents. Not Rebecca. Graham and I had each other, and that was it. And now he’s gone.”

  When Chris exited the interview room and moved behind the glass, Kennedy cleared his throat.

  “So whaddya think?” he asked, fully expecting Chris to renounce his firm belief in Simon’s guilt and finally admit that he was being too hard on the kid.

  “I think he’s a bloody good liar.”

  34

  When, after yet another long day of fruitless analysis, Reilly walked in the front door of the flat just about ready to collapse in her bed, Todd was waiting to greet her, smiling his thousand-watt smile.

  “How was work?” he asked.

  She managed a smile. “It was boring actually. We need a lead, a breakthrough, you know what it’s like.”

  Todd laughed as he moved around, taking things from Reilly’s unsuspecting hands and grabbing his coat. “Oh yeah, I know what it’s like,” he said, pulling his arms through the dark sleeves of his leather jacket, “So are you hungry? Ready to eat?”

  She blinked at him, hoping he wasn’t suggesting they go out. He must had noted her exhausted look, beca
use then he paused.

  “Too tired?” he said, “Sorry, I didn't think. I can only imagine how tiring it must be, what with … in your condition. It’s just,” he continued, eyeing her in a way he must have thought to be inconspicuous, “I don’t know if it’s good for you or the baby, to be working so much. And worrying so much. I read that this kind of thing can really affect the pregnancy.”

  “Do you honestly think I would purposefully do anything to hurt the baby?” she snapped, nearly snarling, “It’s my body too, Todd. I feel fine. Yes, I’m tired but that’s nothing new. So everyone can stop telling me what to do with my body and my life. I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong with the baby - we saw that for ourselves yesterday.”

  “You’re right, sorry,” Todd was saying, though Reilly hardly heard him, “it’s your decision. Let’s just go somewhere and kick back a little. I walked around a bit earlier, and found somewhere I think you’d like.”

  So Reilly found herself being led from the flat only moments after walking in, and thought again of the many reasons she hadn’t had a relationship since she made the move to Dublin.

  Sharing her life meant leaving her familiar routine of coming home, eating when she felt like it, pouring over casework or reading late into the night - not having to consider anyone else’s wishes or priorities. The irony in that, she realized, was that very soon there would be someone that would have to be her top priority.

  She glanced over at Todd, wanting to resent him for the situation they had gotten themselves into, but she found that she couldn’t. In truth, she blamed herself for the outcome, knowing that she should have stopped to think about the consequences of their actions.

  Todd opened the door for her when they got to the restaurant, a place within walking distance of her flat that Reilly had often noticed but never tried, and her senses were immediately assaulted by the heady scents of a kitchen – different fruits and vegetables mixed in with the smell of pasta sauce and the sweet bitterness of chocolate. It was enough to make anyone’s mouth water in anticipation, but Reilly was so ravenous she was almost prepared to snatch the food from the other patron’s tables as she and Todd walked by.

  A waiter led them to a small intimate table in the back, and she settled into the hard chair, wishing for her soft recliner at home.

  Once they’d given their orders, Todd laced his fingers together, leaned forward, elbows on the table and said abruptly, “I think you should come back to Florida with me.”

  She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape, and he watched her reaction carefully, trying to sense if he should continue. When she did nothing but stare at him, he took that as a cue to go on, “You know I want to be a part of the baby’s life, you know that I’ll do anything to be a father to our child. But I realized something when I saw you standing there under those screens at the airport. I want to be with you, too. I want to be a part of your life, Reilly. We can raise our baby, together. In Florida where our baby can grow up in the sunshine, on the beach, with us and his or her grandfather.”

  Reilly blinked again, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

  This was the same Todd that had swept her off her feet, taken her by storm and made her time in the U.S. oh so enjoyable, and now he was proposing something much more serious, though neither of them had intended anything like that when they had their fun.

  Sure, they’d had some contact since then, and some flirtatious conversations, but surely he knew it wasn’t going to work? And it wasn't as if he was even considering moving to Dublin. In his mind, she belonged in the United States.

  Unbidden, she suddenly had an image of her and Todd sleeping in the same bed, walking with a stroller, attending parent-teacher conferences together. She saw them sitting together, old-aged in recliners on the porch of Daniel’s beach house, too old to make it down to the water.

  Todd wanted to take her back to the United States. Yes, it was where she’d been born and had grown up, but Dublin was home now.

  Wasn’t it?

  The thing that mattered most to her at this point in her life was her job, and Todd wanted her to turn her back on that.

  It won’t be what matters most to you for long, her mind was quick to supply, and a gentle kick to her stomach reminded Reilly that her own life wasn’t the only one she had to consider anymore.

  “You don’t have to answer me right away,” Todd said, reaching across the table and finding her hand, “I’ll be here till Monday. You have plenty of time to decide.”

  Four more days to decide what to do with her life.

  Wonderful.

  35

  The lights in the GFU building were low when later that night, Reilly snuck back in.

  Though technically she didn’t sneak in; instead she walked right in using her key card to get through the secured doors.

  Declan the security guy had nodded at her as she passed– it wasn’t exactly a rare sight to see the GFU chief in the office at eleven o’clock at night, particularly in the middle of a major investigation.

  But Reilly felt as though she was sneaking, because when she left the flat Todd was sprawled out on the couch, sleeping soundly. His hair was a blonde mess on his head, and his tan skin was dark against her pale couch, although it looked like mere days in Dublin’s grey atmosphere had already managed to leech out some of his golden hue.

  She’d donned some semi-professional clothes and tiptoed the best she could through the living room creeping past where he slept. She hadn’t had a plan when she left the flat – she just knew that she needed to leave.

  Though she was Todd had the best intentions, his presence in the flat had managed to settle over her like a suffocating blanket.

  He’d fretted cloyingly over her after the ultrasound appointment, and following the embarrassing episode whereby Reilly couldn’t get her socks on, he had insisted she woke him up tomorrow before she went to work so he could assist her again.

  Though, he had spent the longest time trying to persuade her not to go into work at all. “I’m only going to be here for a few more days,” he reminded her, “I’m sure one day away from the lab won’t kill you.” She must have looked completely horrified by the idea, because he added chuckling; “How about I throw in a foot rub,” he said wiggling his fingers suggestively, which irked her even more.

  Foot rub aside, while a day of being fussed over and taken care of was tempting, there wasn't a chance in hell of her accepting.

  There was just too much at stake. Graham Hackett’s killer and Holly Glynn’s attacker were still out there, and she was just going to run through the details over and over until something jumped out.

  Her office was completely dark when she walked in, and she decided to leave the lights off. Too much florescent lighting made her nauseous, lately.

  As iSPI booted up, Reilly’s thoughts wandered back to the place they had spent most of her recent time residing. She had worn grooves in her brain, thinking and thinking about the same scenario over and over.

  Todd wanted her to come back to the US with him, he’d made that much very clear. Everything pointed to that being the best option for her – it was where she grew up, where her dad had returned, where Todd’s family was.

  Todd himself was willing to dote over her and support her – something the old Reilly would have detested, but was gradually coming to realize would be a huge help once the baby was born. And after the baby was born, she wouldn’t have a problem getting a job in the US - not with her existing FBI credentials, to say nothing of the fact that Todd’s father her former mentor, had practically begged him to join his private investigator firm in Tampa the last time she’d visited

  She knew all this, but, for whatever reason, something in her gut told her that going back to the US with Todd was the wrong move. Despite all of the overwhelming evidence in favor of it, her instincts were telling her to stay in Dublin.

  But why? Certainly not for the weather. Or the brutal crimes she’d already been exposed to in her time here
, or indeed her trauma at the hands of a serial killer only a few months before.

  She swallowed and rubbed her neck. It was one thing to think about the baby and her situation with Todd, but she didn’t want to think about her recent run in with ‘The Chef’ any more than she had to. She’d thought enough about that to last her a lifetime.

  She considered her surroundings, imagining Rory hard at work on a laptop, or Gary expertly walking the grid at a crime scene. She thought of Lucy working diligently in the lab analysing trace, of blustery old Jack Gorman in his secluded office, worrying about his daughter. Of Julius arguing with Kennedy sticking to his purely scientific way of thinking, as he made smart-ass remarks.

  Kennedy, munching into whatever disgusting junk food he’d sought out, making a joke about something Reilly had said. Greeting her with his customary, “Blondie.”

  And finally, she thought of soulful dark eyes, eyes that had seen almost as much misery as her own. She thought of the single brief kiss they’d shared; and of the multitude of conversations they’d enjoyed. He’d had her back in every situation – had saved her life more than once.

  Perhaps it was something more than just Reilly’s gut keeping her in Dublin.

  The computer roared to life before her, the lights flashing through the dark room, and damn near burning out her retinas. She brought a hand up to her eyes and let them adjust fully before loading a copy of the iSPI rendering that would reconstruct the Hackett crime scene before her eyes.

  She ran through the software’s suggested point of attack, once again taking careful note of the attacker’s suggested particulars as calculated by the program. Then she flipped through the detective’s case notes until she found Simon Hackett’s profile.

  The older brother’s height was certainly within the parameters of iSPI’s rendering of the attacker, attributing the perfect angle and trajectory for the brutal injuries that had been inflicted. Reilly once again visualized Graham Hackett’s broken body on the floor of his bedroom. There were many kids - sportsmen - at the party who would have been skilled enough with a hurley stick to swing it through the air like that and beat the kid to death.