by Casey Hill
Reilly fished through her purse and produced a tissue for her. Holly accepted it gratefully.
“Conor told me to go straight home and I did. I didn’t know what to do - wasn't sure what he was doing, so I just went upstairs and waited in his room until he got home. I don’t know how long I sat there … it must have been at least an hour, maybe?
When Conor did get home, he opened the door, and he was covered in blood. He came over and hugged me, told me everything would be OK. But he looked … I don’t know sort of … spaced. A bit like some of the guys when they do poppers. But Conor doesn't do drugs - he never has. So I just assumed he’d got in a fight, that he’d caught up with Dean on the way and maybe figured out what had happened. Like I said, Dean is strong, one of those muscle-heads. So I asked him where he’d been, but he didn't answer. He just hugged me quickly and then said he needed to take a shower.
But some of the blood got on my arms, so I went back to my room and climbed into the shower, to get it off and I don’t know - I guess to get … Dean off me too. I felt tired and dirty and I was worried about what had happened with Conor. I don’t know how long I sat in the shower, just letting the water run over me, but then the next thing I remember is Mom pulling me out and taking me to the hospital. She saw my ripped clothes and the bruises between my legs and…”
Holly sobbed again as she ran through the events of that night, the impact of her mother and brother’s assumptions - but mostly her failure to explain the details - weighing heavily on her.
She took a deep breath when she had finished her story, then blew her nose into the tissue. “You must think I’m a terrible person,” she said, finally. “But I really, honestly had no idea that Conor would do something like that to Graham - to anyone. I cared about Graham, he was my friend and yes, it didn't work out between us but I would never in a million years …”
“So what did you do when you found out Graham had been killed?” Reilly asked. “That morning at the hospital when I spoke to you - you must have known then it was Conor.”
She shook her head. “I was still in shock and confused … but to be honest I really wasn't sure if it had anything to do with Conor. The thought crossed my mind, particularly with the blood, but I truly, honestly didn't think my brother could do something like that. And for a day or two afterwards when I got home, Conor wouldn't admit it either. It was only when I told him he’d got it all wrong - that it wasn’t Graham who’d attacked me, that he broke down and admitted what had happened. He didn't mean to kill him, honestly he didn’t. My brother’s a good guy, but Graham taunted him, made him angry …”
“Where is he Holly? Where is your brother now?”
The young girl’s face was pale and scared. She had just given up her brother - her own twin - and Reilly couldn’t imagine the decision she had to make next.
“It’s not that I don’t love Conor,” Holly continued, “I do. But I can’t let my Dad go to prison for him.”
“Where is Conor, sweetheart?
Holly swallowed and glanced around the room, then fixed her eyes back on Reilly. She could see the chaos behind her eyes, the turmoil she must have suffered through to get to the decision where she would give up her twin.
“He left for Sydney on Friday morning,” Holly said, finally. “He left as soon as Mom and Dad figured out what had happened. The clothes from that night were still in his room. Mom was tidying up and found them in a rubbish bag under his bed.”
"Do you know where those clothes are now?”
Holly shook her head, “No. I’ve kind of been staying in my room a lot. I only know about the clothes because Mum and Dad were arguing about it before they confronted him.”
“Okay,” Reilly said. “Holly, you’ve done an excellent job. I know this was hard and I’m sure your cooperation will help your dad too. What about Dean?” she asked then. “Do you want the detectives to - ?”
“There’s no point,” she said, shaking her head resolutely. “Even though he scared me, he didn't actually do anything. And I think enough people have paid.”
“It doesn't matter that he wasn't successful in doing what he wanted to, Holly. He still tried to overpower you, force you to do something against your will.”
Holly shrugged as if it was the kind of thing she already understood she’d have to get used to in life. Men would always have the upper hand.
And maybe that’s the way it had always been Reilly thought, but it didn’t have to be. Men - boys - like Dean Cooper needed to be answerable, needed to know that their superior body strength didn't mean they could automatically impose their will on women.
Maybe it was too late for Holly’s generation, but she’d make damn sure that her kid - whatever gender it turned out to be - took those things for granted.
Mrs. Glynn pushed through the door then, rushing to her daughter and wrapping her arms around her. She looked up at Reilly, her expression furious and hurt, “Don’t you think she’s gone through enough today without more questions? She’s already told you everything she knows.”
Holly pushed back on her mother’s chest and shook her head, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her light blue sweater. “No, mom,” she said, “it’s okay. I wanted to talk to her. I told her …everything. It’s not fair to Dad.”
“You told her everything … oh love,” Susan Glynn’s face fell, as she was torn between her daughter’s distress, her husband’s predicament and her son’s guilt.
Reilly moved to the doorway then, wanting to say something, but not knowing what she could say. She just watched as mother and daughter embraced, both equally distraught.
48
“The Glynn kid is on a flight back from Australia,” Kennedy announced the following afternoon, tucking his phone in his pocket as he entered the lab. “Gave himself up in Sydney.”
The GFU team looked up at him, silence filling the room when really there should have been some sort jubilation over catching their guy. But they all knew that the endgame was a lot less fun when you knew that families were going to be torn apart.
There would be no winners in this case.
“Conor Glynn is facing murder charges,” he continued, “and his father is facing charges for trying to cover it up. There’s a suggestion that the mother did something to cover it up, too – they still can’t find the clothes he was wearing on the night of the murder – but it looks like Glynn is taking the fall for his wife.”
Reilly came in then, a box of case files in her arms. Gary stood up at once and took the box from her, setting it on the counter.
“I’m not incapable of carrying stuff you know,” she remonstrated, but at this point, she was worn out from arguing about special treatment.
“Clearly,” he said, giving her midriff a significant glance, causing the rest of them to chuckle.
“Oh, you think that’s funny now? You wait until we’re a couple of days into getting this stuff in order for the prosecutor’s office.”
As expected the laughs died out quickly.
“Well,” Kennedy said, putting his hands on his hips, “seems like that’s my cue to head away.”
“Wait,” Gary said. He glanced at the others. “It’s been a long slog, lots of overtime - weekends and everything. We should go out and celebrate now that it’s over. We can always start that stuff tomorrow.”
There was complete silence in the room as everyone watched carefully for Reilly’s reaction. He was right though; it had been a long hard slog and some of them had even worked through the night. They deserved a break.
“Fine,’ she said, hefting the box up off the table. “Better put this back in my office then.”
Gary stood up and again eased it from her hands, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry,” he said, “I just can’t let you carry it. It’s how I was raised.”
Lucy rolled her eyes but Reilly was smiling. “O’Grady’s then?” she said, referring to the nearest pub.
The team left the office and made their way to the
pub nearby.
The interior was low lit and surprisingly loud for a Monday afternoon. A darts match was playing in the corner and a few guys were watching it - shouting and yelling at the screen.
Reilly made her way to the bar to take care of the order. She knew the others’ individual poison almost by heart. The barman came over, his eyes wary as he took in her form. “What can I get you?” he asked, polishing the inside of a glass.
“A tonic water with lemon for me please,” she said, after rattling off the team’s order, somewhat tickled by the notion that she would get anything other than a non-alcoholic drink. But that was Ireland for you.
From where she stood, she watched the gang chatting effortlessly, having fun and laughing with each other. Even normally stoic Julius was getting in on the fun, playing a round of darts against Gary, whose competitive nature was getting the best of him.
“Fancy a game of pool?” Chris asked, suddenly appearing alongside her, mirth lining his voice.
Reilly looked at him in surprise. He held up his hands. “I called Kennedy and he mentioned the whole gang had clocked off early for the afternoon - you included. I had shake my ears out, make sure I wasn’t hearing things.”
She chuckled. “The guys deserve it. And I doubt I’ll have much of an opportunity to join them from now on.”
The barman slid back over. “What can I get you mate?”
Chris glanced at Reilly, “I’ll have what she’s having,” he intoned jokily.
The barman nodded and Chris took the others’ drinks over to their table while he waited for his own.
Reilly remained at the bar, so he did the same, taking a seat alongside her. When his drink arrived, he took his glass and removed the lemon, setting it down on a beermat nearby.
“So are you going to tell me what happened to your face?”
Chris looked sheepish. “Honestly, it’s nothing sinister. Believe it or not, I fell and tripped on a curb on my way home from the pub the other night. Gobshite.”
Reilly exhaled a little. She’d wondered …
“Look…” He glanced over at her GFU colleagues, who were laughing on the other side of the pub, then back to Reilly. “I’m so sorry for the way I acted the other night. At your place.”
“Chris - ” she started, but he held a hand up, cutting her off.
“No,” he said, gripping his glass in the other hand, “it’s not okay. I should have behaved better. With everything going on in your life, you didn’t need all of that shite piled on top of it.”
Reilly stared down at her water for a moment, trying to process Chris’s apology. Finally, just barely audible over the sound of the sports fans in the back shouting, she replied. “Thanks. It means a lot. But Todd was … well, I think we both know what he was doing.”
“Is he still …”
She shook her head. “Flew out this morning. It’s OK, we got some things straightened out before he left.” She glanced sideways at him but didn't elaborate.
Chris took a sip of his water and grimaced, “Never did like it with lemon,” he explained, seeing the puzzled look on her face.
“You know, after the week we’ve just had, I’m beat. I think I’m going to go,” she said, gathering her things.
Chris finished his water in one swallow, like it was the last sup of Guinness. “I’ll walk you out,” he said, and when Reilly didn’t argue, he turned and followed her out.
A late afternoon Dublin bay sea fog had descended outside, causing Reilly to pull her jacket closer around her. The two walked side by side back to the GFU car park as they made small talk about the case, their words billowing out like the fog around them.
“Do you want to come back for a while?” she asked as she paused by the car, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could do with the company.”
His face was impassive and then he nodded. “OK, I’ll follow on.”
49
When they reached her flat and Chris stepped inside, he was once again flooded with the memory of what had happened the last time he’d stepped over this particular threshold. He recalled uneasily the uncomfortable atmosphere, the terrible strain that had existed between him and Todd and the way Reilly had reacted to it.
She noticed the expression on his face and shook her head. “You can stop feeling sorry for yourself. That was Todd’s fault, too. And mine, for thinking it would be okay to have two alphas together in the same room. So I think it would be best if we avoid the subject from now on,” she said a smile on her lips, “you’ll just keep apologizing, and as much as I love to hear it, I’m starving.”
She moved to the kitchen, and Chris followed her tentatively. He watched uselessly as she gathered the ingredients from the fridge and the cabinets.
“You know I’m not much of a cook …” he confessed, recalling Todd and his easy expertise in the kitchen.
“All the better,” she said, moving around the kitchen gracefully, despite her extra bulk. She had almost gotten used to being pregnant at this point. Almost.
She felt a sudden twinge in her stomach and was reminded that it wouldn’t be long until she was herself again. “My experience with men that can cook hasn’t been the best, as you know.”
Chris smiled at her attempt at making a joke, but the recollection of what had happened the night she went rushing in to stop The Chef felt like a knife in his own chest. If he closed his eyes and imagined it was happening again, he could still feel the immense panic that had come over him when she had left that frantic message on his phone before rushing in to go head-to-head against a killer.
“I’m thinking a spinach and chicken pasta?” Reilly said, not noticing the faraway look in his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to her that Chris had his own memory of that incident, and it hadn’t been pleasant, either.
He watched her turn on the stove and grab a pot for the water, then he asked the thing that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue since they’d spoken earlier “So how’d you guys leave things?”
Reilly looked at Chris, and, despite herself, heard Todd’s words ringing out in her brain.
Isn’t it obvious?’
She shook her head and tried to defeat the confusion crowding her head.
Chris shifted a little, uncomfortable with how long it was taking her to reply. “You don’t have to answer,” he said, “if you don’t want to.”
Reilly was startled by naked vulnerability in his voice. She appraised him then, standing in her kitchen. He looked weathered and worn from the investigation, but handsome as ever in the suit that he seemed to wear every day. He was still watching her with careful eyes, as though he was trying to figure out what she was thinking.
You’re in love with Chris…
“I’m not going back to the States,” Reilly blurted, her cheeks reddening as she realized that she had been staring at him for far too long. He raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing for a little while.
“Oh,” he replied eventually, swallowing and glancing around the flat, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she repeated, her voice skeptical, “Why are you sorry?”
Chris cleared his throat, “I don’t know. I’m sorry it didn't work out with Todd. I mean, I just assumed. Is he… is he coming back soon?”
He’d called Reilly from the airport that morning, apologizing for the way they'd left things, and the conversation had been … difficult to say the least.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for the assumptions that I jumped to,” Todd had said contritely. “I still think we can work this out … maybe figure things out as we go along, just as long as we’re together. I’ve even been thinking about possibly moving over to be with you. I had some time to really think about the things that are important to me, and I still think we should raise the baby together. And if the only way to do that is for me to move to Dublin to be with you, then I’m willing to do that.”
“Todd…” she said, swallowing hard. “You were right.”
He seemed to
sense that she was not talking about their relationship, or the way that they needed to raise their child. “About what?” he replied, his voice terse and jarring, “what are you saying?”
“You were right,” Reilly said again, her voice small and tired, “I can’t be with you. I’m sorry, I care about you, but I don’t love you. I just…can’t.”
Todd cleared his throat on the other end of the line, and Reilly could visualize his Adam’s apple bobbing, could imagine the expression on his face as she said that to him. Perhaps he was smug that he had it all figured out before she had, or perhaps he was in disbelief. Whatever it was, she pushed on through the silence, “I’m not saying that I don’t want you here for the baby. You can do whatever you want Todd, your level of involvement is up to you. But I can’t move to the US, I can’t be with you.”
Now, she looked down at the onion she was chopping intently, and said to Chris, “No. I don’t think he’ll be coming back soon. When the baby’s born maybe, but just for a visit.”
Chris stopped the conversation there, choosing to let things unspoken remain that way. If she was uncomfortable talking about Todd, he wasn’t going to push it. He’d already been kicked out of the place once and he didn’t want to risk it again.
Reilly made pasta, and Chris stepped in every now and again to help her with something simple, but he mostly stood off to the side, watching her work her way through the kitchen.
