by Casey Hill
“Well,” Rory said, “from what I’ve gathered, Thor and Megan went out together for a while. So he’s obviously pissed off on behalf of his ex, and looking to defend her honor.”
“But who’s Thor? Can you find out?”
Rory nodded. “Already working on it.”
“SO IT REALLY IS LOOKING LIKE it could be someone other than Simon…” Chris said, somewhat despondently.
It was much later in the evening, and he and Reilly were back in her office going over the new information, while Kennedy volunteered to check out the security cameras from the city centre club that had held the foam party on the night of Graham Hackett’s attack.
“I agree. The brother just doesn't fit. For one thing, he didn't need to exit or enter through the window and for another the nightclub he was at wasn't the one that held the foam party.”
“So, who do you think did it, then? This Thor guy? Maybe one of Simon’s older college friends? And if so, why?”
She yawned. After last night’s middle of the night exploits, it had felt like a helluva long day. “I have no idea, but it looks to me like there are a number of possibilities. Especially since Graham wasn’t as pure as everyone likes to make out. There’s the drugs element for one - Dean Cooper may not have been his only source - and now the revenge porn…”
“Well I wish you would hurry the hell up and find us something concrete instead of piling on more theories …” Chris harrumphed, the new information that pointed away from his preferred suspect making him cranky and disgruntled. “Maybe if there weren't so many distractions - ”
“What distractions?” Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, the intensity of the investigation, as well as the emotional upheaval about the situation with Todd, but the barb really got to her. She pushed her chair back away from her desk and stood up, glaring at him. “How dare you Chris? How dare you suggest that I’m not concentrating properly on the job? Look at everything we've uncovered this week. What the hell do you think I was doing here at all hours of the - ”
Her words were cut short as a searing pain ripped through her abdomen, and she struggled to take a breath. Her hand automatically went to her stomach and she winced, putting her hand on the nearest thing to lean on.
Which turned out to be Chris, who’d bolted out of his chair and round the desk at the first sign of her discomfort. “Jesus, are you okay?” he asked, breathless with concern, as Reilly’s hand found the front of his shirt and balled it in her fist. “I can phone for an ambulance, take you to the hospital even?”
She shook her head and straightened up a bit as the pain subsided, but still heavily leaning against him. “Dr. Moore - my obstetrician said there would be discomfort from now on,” Reilly said, “Cramps. Pretty sure this is one…”
Chris looked back at her tired, overworked form, feeling guilty as hell. He’d just accused her of taking her eye off the ball.
Did he ever feel like an asshole…
He stood stock still, not knowing what else to do, as she grimaced afresh, her fist still clenched around a piece of his shirt. “Hey, maybe you should sit down for a second,” he suggested gently, reaching for her arm.
Just as someone made an appearance in the office doorway.
“Hey …” said a male voice in a distinctive American twang. And Chris suddenly knew who the visitor was, even before Reilly uttered the name.
“Todd…”
38
Reilly stared, completely floored to see Todd of all people standing in her office, flanked by Declan, the security guard from downstairs.
“I remember him meeting you in reception the other day,” the guard was saying. “So I thought it would be OK to bring him up.” Reilly’s expression seemed to be telling him otherwise. “Considering, you know…” Declan stared at her bump, as if suggesting that it was all fine and dandy to allow a member of the public access to her office simply because he was the father of her child. Not that anyone knew for sure, but she guessed they’d put two and two together. And come up with fifty. “It is OK, isn’t it?” he added uncertainly.
“Sure Declan,” she replied sighing. Though Todd was not her keeper and had no right coming to her place of work unannounced. What was he doing here anyway?
But in her office he was, striding toward Chris and putting his hand out. “Hey, I’m Todd, Reilly’s - ”
“Friend,” she put in quickly. “Daniel’s son. Chris knows your dad - he met him a couple of years back when he was here for the … Jess situation.”
Chris reluctantly took his hand, retreating stiffly. “Chris Delaney. Detective.”
Todd glanced between the two of them, his gaze reserved. “Cool. So how’s everything going?”
“You know we can’t discuss the case, Todd,” Reilly warned.
He shook his head at her, “I wasn’t asking about the case, hon, I was just asking - in general. How’s it going?”
She blanched at his casual (and she thought, rather patronizing) use of the endearment, and couldn’t look Chris in the eye.
“Shitty actually,” Chris responded. “The case I mean.”
“Right - which is why I guess my girl’s here so late.” Todd chuckled. “How many times have I tried to tell her that work’s not everything…” he joked, glancing at Chris as if for support, “Especially now, right? Hey, you promised you’d try make it home a little earlier while I’m in town. And yet here I am - practically having to steal you away on a Friday night.” He gave Chris’s shoulder a friendly nudge. “Hope you’re not working her too hard, buddy.”
Chris cleared his throat. “Reilly works herself too hard, I think we all know that,” he said smiling fondly at her. “I’ve never met anyone with a better work ethic or track record.”
Todd raised his eyebrows at the blatantly protective tone Chris had used, but continued talking to him like they had been buddies for a long time.
“Oh, trust me, I know all about Reilly’s track record,” he said, flashing one of his epically white smiles.
Reilly harrumphed, aware that this was quickly turning into a pissing contest. “Speaking of work,” she said, directing her gaze at Todd, “What are you doing here?”
Todd stood right in front of her, turning his back to Chris, “You weren’t home when you said you would be,” he said, gently putting both hands on her shoulders. “I was worried.”
Reilly raised her eyebrow at this – she wasn’t used to being accountable to anyone. She suspected she could disappear from the face of the earth in the evening, and nobody would notice until she didn’t show up at the GFU the next morning.
“I went to the store, hoping I could pick up some avocados for dinner, but I couldn't find any, and then I was bored, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by and check on you.”
“You’ll have a hard time finding fresh avocados in the shops around here,” Chris remarked, causing him to turn back around.
“Oh?” he said, glancing once again to Reilly, “I was thinking of making us some Mexican food for dinner. Your favorite. But maybe we should do it tomorrow night instead; it’s late now. Hey, you should stop by,” Todd added, turning back to Chris, as if laying down some kind of challenge. “Sure,” he insisted when Chris looked taken aback. “It’s Saturday night - we’ll have a good time. Any friend of Reilly’s is a friend of mine.”
Chris’s expression was the exact one Reilly would have expected to see after such a suggestion. At first, he looked tense and closed off, seemingly right on the verge of finding the perfect excuse to decline, but she was surprised when he then squared his shoulders and offered a smile. “Grand,” Chris said, “I will so. Tomorrow night you said?”
She stared at the two men as they shared a look she couldn’t quite identify.
“So,” Todd was saying as he broke Chris’s intent gaze and returned it to her, “are you ready to go home now? There’s a foot rub on the couch waiting for you.”
After the severe cramp she’d just experienced, a foot rub sounded lik
e heaven. And Todd was right; she had promised to try and be home a little earlier while he was in town. They had lots to discuss after all. She nodded tiredly, giving one last look at the files scattered over her desk.
Chris could only watch as she and Todd Forrest walked out the door together, something fierce and competitive brewing in his chest.
39
Having reviewed the new information about Graham Hackett’s possible involvement with revenge porn, Chris and Kennedy decided to pay Megan Wright another visit.
This time, when Megan answered she kept the door partially closed. Her eyes narrowed and a worried look crossed her features. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes moving rapidly from Chris and back to Kennedy. “I thought I told you everything the other day.”
“Not quite pet,” said Kennedy, using his best paternal voice. “We’ve had some new information that we need to talk to you about.”
Megan sighed and stepped out outside the door, closing it behind her. “My baby brother is sleeping,” she supplied in explanation, “I don’t want to wake him.”
“Okay,” Chris said, taking a step back and letting her sit down on the steps. “Megan, we believe there was a certain … situation involving you and Graham Hackett recently. Something about an … intimate photograph?”
Megan’s cheeks immediately reddened and she shook her head as she looked down at her lap. “That…” she said, tears brimming at her eyes. “that was so stupid. Of me.”
Chris felt for the girl as she continued on. “I thought… I don’t know, I was flirting around with Graham a bit, to try make someone jealous. I didn’t know, obviously, that Graham would forward the photos on to everyone else.”
“Thor? Why would flirting around with Graham make him jealous?” he asked. “And who’s Thor?”
Megan shook her head again, sending her honey brown hair fluttering around her face, “My ex - Conor…he wanted to end things… he had just got the scholarship to play in Australia, and he thought it would be best if we broke up straight away instead of hanging on till he left when we’d have to eventually. I thought he was just using it as an excuse to see other girls, so I suppose I wanted him to know that two could play at that game. And he and Graham never really got on.”
Conor Glynn, Chris realized.
“And how did Conor react when he found out that Graham had shared the pictures?”
“He was pretty pissed off about it. The next day, he came up to me at school, and he just had this look on his face, like he didn’t know what to say to me.”
“Has Conor talked to you since then?”
A sorrowful expression passed over Megan’s face and she wiped the back of her hand over her cheek.
“No,” she said, her words wobbling through the air. “He got so cold after that. It was awful, as we were really close. And then I wondered if maybe he had been serious when he said he didn't want to string me along until he left for Oz. We used to confide in each other, like I knew how the other lads on the team were jealous about the scholarship and I suppose when I started that shit with Graham, maybe he felt like I’d betrayed him too.”
“Did you ever make a complaint or maybe tell your parents about what Graham had done - with the photo?” Kennedy asked gently.
Megan looked horrified at the very thought. “Not for a second, why would I? It was my own stupid fault for doing it in the first place. I didn't want my parents … or anyone else to see the photos either.”
A classic case of victim blaming, Chris realized, feeling for Megan. How goddamn frustrating for the girl to have internalized at such a young age that - stupidity (or perhaps naivety?) aside - what Graham Hackett had done to her was wrong.
He resolved to ensure that Rachel would never feel that way, that he would let his goddaughter know that if any boy or man treated her with anything other than respect, he would have Chris to answer to. He shuddered at the very idea, and for once had a brief glimpse of the worries Kennedy no doubt had to face every day of the week.
“So Conor - he’s Holly Glynn’s brother?”
She nodded. “That’s another reason I didn't want to say anything about the photos. Holly’s my friend and I didn't know how she’d feel about me coming on to her ex. But it was long after things were over between them.” She looked at the detectives, pleadingly. “Please don’t tell anyone. I know it was stupid, believe me. It’s bad enough that I pushed Conor away, but it would kill me to lose Holly too.”
40
Saturday night, the entire flat was flooded with the smell of Todd’s home cooking, and Reilly knew that she would smell it long after he had gone back to the US.
She would smell it in the furniture, lingering off of the clothes in the closet, stuck to every fabric and inch of carpet in her small flat.
She sat back on her sofa and watched Todd work amongst the tiny kitchen, slicing and scooping things in pans on the stove.
If she stayed in Dublin, she thought. She would only continue to smell his cooking after he’d gone if she didn’t end up following him back, hooked onto his arm like a carry-on bag.
There was a sharp knock at the door then, and Reilly knew who it was immediately. There was a doorbell but Chris always insisted on knocking. Perhaps he thought it sounded less formal, but Reilly had a suspicion he enjoyed hitting something that wouldn’t hit him back every once in a while.
When Todd didn’t react, Reilly pushed herself to her feet and shuffled over to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pushing it open.
When she caught her first glimpse of Chris, she inhaled sharply and was met with the musky scent of his cologne. It was a scent she had always liked – most men opted for a more sickly chemical scent that came with most mass market brands, but Chris’s skipped over being artificial, and was more like he had just walked out of a patch of evergreen trees.
He was wearing a dark grey button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Reilly rarely got to see him in jeans, so she took in the sight with interest – they were black, snug-fitting, and surprisingly stylish.
Finally, her gaze moved to his eyes, which were smiling at her from under their brown hue. He held up what looked like a bottle of red wine and she stepped back, allowing him entry.
“It smells great in here,” Chris commented as he and Reilly stood together in the living room.
“Wait until you taste it!” Todd piped up from the kitchen. He winked at Reilly and she offered him a cool smile. She wasn't playing along with the cosy domestic thing he had going on.
Chris rolled his lips into his mouth for a second as he observed the interaction then pushed them out in a forced grin. He held the bottle in his hands, preparing himself to say something, when Todd piped up again.
“Hey nice one,” he said, flashing his thousand-watt smile at Chris like a grenade, “looks like Reilly’s gonna be left out of the festivities tonight,” he said, gesturing toward the bottle with an inclination of his head.
“Actually,” Chris said, chuckling under his breath at Todd’s attempt at conviviality, “it’s sparkling grape juice.”
“Oh,” Todd said, sounding genuinely surprised, as if it was unheard for an Irishman to arrive bearing anything other than strong liquor. He glanced over his shoulder toward the stove, “Almost ready,” he said, before turning his back to them again.
Reilly made brief eye contact with Chris, hoping to convey the weirdness of the situation, and melt some of the nervous tension fizzing in the air around them.
It’s just a shared dinner between friends, she tried to tell herself, although the underlying voice, the one in the logical part of her brain, told her that she knew this wasn’t the case.
“Come and sit down,” she said to Chris, leading him to the small table she normally ate at. Usually, the table would be covered in case files, notes and graphs that Reilly had made, or speculations she had scribbled on spare pieces of paper. Now and again she sketched out a crime scene to get her head in the right place, and taped it to
the wall.
But none of this was apparent now, as Todd had completely transformed the space to more like what it was meant to be used for. The table was covered in a tablecloth, there were three place settings with accompanying cutlery and glasses, and he had even gone so far as to pick up fresh flowers from the florist down the street.
Chris noticed her hesitant pause as she surveyed the elegantly set table – something told him it certainly wasn’t Reilly’s doing.
Todd came over just then with two plates of food balanced in each hand. “Let me just grab the rest,” he said, after setting two servings down on the table and pulling Reilly’s chair out for her.
“I’ll help you,” Chris said, putting down the bottle of grape juice before taking a step to follow Todd.
“It’s OK,” he said, “I’ve got it. Just make yourself comfortable.”
The two men shared a look for a moment, then Chris shrugged. Todd was clearly challenging him, but he was not in the mood to play. He sat down across from Reilly and she immediately sat forward, an inquisitive look on her face.“So how’d it go earlier with Megan - ”
“No shop talk,” Todd called out. “You promised.”
She rolled her eyes and met Chris’s gaze, who smiled.
That’d be the day.
But in truth, they really couldn't discuss an open investigation in front of Todd in any case.
A moment later, he came hurrying back over, two more plates in his arms. He set them down on the table and introduced their meal before settling into his own chair. “OK first up, we’ve got a fresh tuna and tomato salad, with avocado on the side. Next coconut shrimp, then beef burrito with guac and cilantro.”
Reilly looked incredulously at Todd. His menu for the night was clearly reminiscent of the many meals they’d shared together in Florida - this was proper Gulf Coast beach food.
Which didn't go unnoticed by Chris.
The guy seemed to be doing everything he could to throw his relationship with Reilly in his face, evidently sniffing out a rival, whereas had done nothing to instigate that. Nothing that he knew of anyway. He tried to convince himself that he was secure enough in his relationship with Reilly that he didn’t need to prove himself to a complete stranger.
