by Casey Hill
‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘but I still want something hard and cold in my hands. If we’re going to catch this guy, I need to know where he is, not just what makes him tick.’
‘I’m with you there,’ said Chris. ‘And with Kennedy’s hard-line, no nonsense, “let’s get the baddies” attitude, the lot of us make a pretty fearsome trio don’t we?’
‘I’ll toast to that,’ said Reilly. ‘if only we weren’t still on duty. I’ve just seen a white from Napa Valley on the menu that I’d die for. A taste of home.’
‘You know I did my undergrad degree in psychology don’t you?’ said Chris, unexpectedly. ‘I did kind of want to go down that road, what Forrest does. Or did,’ he added, remembering that Reilly’s FBI friend was now retired.
‘Why didn’t you then?’
‘It just seemed too taxing, being in the minds of these guys all day long. Almost being them, trying to understand what motivated them to do such horrible things. I wanted more action, wanted to be the person who put them away.’
‘But you analyze them, anyway,’ she said, understanding. ‘You can’t get away from it. Every case we’re on, you’re following the perp like he’s drawing you a mind map. I get that all too well.’
Chris shrugged. ‘I suppose I managed to avoid it for a few years,’ he said. ‘It was all about cuffing them. But lately I have been thinking about the cases a bit more deeply. I don’t see the value of throwing these guys in jail without knowing why. How are we supposed to stop it happening again?’
‘Sometimes you can’t stop evil,’ said Reilly. ‘It’s that simple.’
‘Do you really believe in evil though?’ he asked. ‘Even after all we’ve seen, evil seems to me a kind of fairy tale construction. People are crazy, mean, motivated by uncontrollable desires. They’re ignorant of their own souls. But I don’t believe in evil.’
‘I do,’ said Reilly. She looked thoughtful. She didn’t often have this conversation with people. ‘Maybe it’s got something to do with my…family. I believe I’ve seen evil.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, temporarily forgetting that what they were talking about was deeply personal for her. ‘I didn’t mean to …’
‘No, it’s fine’ she said. ‘I know that my own experience sometimes clouds me, makes me believe that there is no redemption if you like. You know, even my dad has a greater capacity to believe in goodness than I do. He’s always cautioning me: “Try to see the good, honey.”’
‘Good advice.’
‘Hard to follow, though. But I do see some very good things on this menu,’ she said expertly changing the subject.
‘You’re not wrong there. I hope you don’t object if I go for the full three courses? I worked out in anticipation of this,’
She laughed. ‘Me too.’
The restaurant was styled like a cottage: wisteria growing along the trellis on the terrace, the ceilings inside were low and the tableware was delicate and floral. Reilly generally preferred a cleaner more modern look, but this was interesting. Their waitress kept shooting little glances at Chris, but he seemed immersed in the menu and talking to her. It was quite pleasant, she thought. She and Chris never really got to chat like this anymore. They’d done so quite a bit in the early days when they were just starting to work together and get to know each other, but more recently their relationship had cooled a little. She’d surprised herself by how much she’d missed his company while she was in Florida and was happy of the opportunity for a proper catchup now that she was back.
Of course the only reason they were here was because Joker Fruit was used in the food, and when Reilly flipped to the dessert menu, she saw the dish: “Joker’s revenge: a molten white lava cake with a puree of the most dangerous fruit you’ll ever eat. Only if you dare.”
There was a note at the bottom of the page explaining that every care had been taken to prepare the food safely, but you still ate it at your own risk. Reilly had already suffered at the hands of a very mild dose of antimine and felt that diners here were really taking their lives into her own hands. She knew it wasn't worth the risk. Nothing tastes quite that good. She smiled as she recalled her earlier statement: “I’d die for a glass of that wine.” Not quite.
‘It’s nice to see you smile,’ said Chris. ‘I get the sense that you’ve been a little low since you got back from the States.’
‘I have, actually’ she admitted, touched that he’d noticed. ‘Just a bit blue and irritable. For some reason I can’t seem to get my groove back. Everything feels a little blurry …like I can’t quite get a handle on things.’
‘You wouldn’t know it to look at you,’ said Chris. ‘You seem as sharp as ever.’
‘Yes, well. I’m confiding in you only,’ she said laughing lightly. ‘I can’t have the rest of the team thinking I’m not on top of my game. Especially not Kennedy.’
‘You don’t always need to be a superwoman, Reilly.’
‘You don’t cut yourself much slack either,’ she replied pointedly.
Their first course arrived just then. Reilly had seared tuna on Israeli couscous with a garlic asparagus puree. Chris had an ostrich burger. ‘You might as well have gone and had one with Kennedy,’ she joked.
The waitress topped up their water glasses and Chris continued their conversation where it had been left off. ‘I don’t need to cut myself any slack,’ he said. ‘My life is pretty simple. I’ve whittled it down to the bare necessities. It’s basically work, exercise, and hanging out with little Rachel.’
‘You really enjoy seeing that little girl don’t you?’
‘I love it,’ said Chris, taking a bite of his slider. ‘She’s one of the things about life that just makes me feel that it can’t be all bad. You’ve met Matt and Emma; they are so happy. It’s hard being a family in this day and age, but they make it work. And Rachel’s a dote. I took her to the beach a little while back and she buried me in sand. It was freezing. I had sand in my ears, not to mention other places, for days.’
Reilly cracked up laughing. It was funny to think of him in such a precarious position. ‘Seems like she’s really got you wrapped around her little finger.’
‘She does.’ He smiled. ‘I’m helpless.’
‘Did you ever…’ Reilly wasn't unsure if she should ask. Too personal? ‘Did you ever wonder about, you know…’
‘Reilly,’ he said. ‘Just ask the question. We’ve known each other a long time now. Yes, I did think about having kids at one point. When I was younger, but of course after Mel. … it just seemed crazy to even think about anything like that anymore, bringing a child into the world. But it’s a good thing for some people. The world needs more parents who love their kids. What about you?’
Reilly was really enjoying herself. The tiny bite of the tuna she had was delicious. She cut off another piece. ‘‘Me? It’s never really been on my agenda. I think it would be great, I mean, like you said I think it’s great when other people do it. But I just don’t know how people like us could do our jobs and have a relationship, never mind a child.’
‘I guess it’s a choice. Maybe you can’t do both.’
‘If it’s a choice, then I choose this,’ she said. ‘I think I make a better CSI than anything else.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ he said. ‘I think you’d be just as good with unwashed hair and vomit stains on your sweatshirt. Sleep deprivation would suit you down to the ground.’
She balled up her napkin and threw it at him. ‘Very funny. I’ve heard fatherhood can be pretty rough too. You wouldn’t have time to work out, and soon you and Kennedy would look like twins.’
‘That should be enough to put anyone off,’ he chuckled. Then more seriously: ‘Ah, I don’t know if I would mind all that much. I’ve lived this way long enough, I sometimes think if everything else was right, I might not mind letting some of the rest slip.’
Reilly nodded. The conversation was becoming intense. She wasn’t used to this kind of openness from Chris. She wasn’t
used to being open herself. It made her feel naked, like she was walking on a platform that might give at any moment. She wondered if it was a carry-over from the emotional intimacy with Todd, as well as that overwhelming, all-consuming sex. Unbidden, she felt a stab of desire in her lower stomach as the thought of it flashed into her head. It was strange to be thinking of that now, here with Chris. It made her feel confused. Chris was attractive, anyone could see that. But they were workmates. Simple.
Still, she was glad of the distraction when their mains came.
Chris had ordered steak, which she thought was a bit boring, but she had to admit that it looked good. It was a couple of inches thick, still rare and running blood in the middle. It was garnished by a potato which had been carved into a kind of torpedo shape and fried. Then vegetables and a wedge of blue cheese sat on the side. Simple, but effective.
She had stuck with the seafood theme and ordered the restaurant’s take on an old English classic: fish pie. Hunts of tender white fish and prawns lay under a crust of sweet potato and parmesan. She pierced the top and a creamy white sauce flowed out. She was still starving and began to eat with gusto.
‘You have to try this,’ said Chris. ‘Here.’ He held out his fork to her, a bite sized piece of steak on the end. Reilly was momentarily flustered, unsure whether to take the fork and feed herself, or let Chris place it in her mouth. It all seemed very intimate. She didn’t want to seem like she was making a big fuss, so in the end let him place it in her mouth.
‘It’s fantastic,’ she said. In turn she gave him a bite of her meal. A woman at the table next to them smiled at them indulgently. Did it really matter if people thought they were a couple? She had to get the conversation back to safe territory.
‘So the chef is going to come and talk to us after lunch?’
‘Yes, it’s all arranged. Let’s hope he hasn’t figured out why we’re here. He might have laced the food.’
‘At least then we would have a lead,’ she said.
‘Are we going to have this dessert then?’
‘What? Are you serious?’
‘Of course. It seems a pity to go to all of this trouble and not. It’s what we’re interested in.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve already had my share. Not to mention that I’m almost full enough to burst.’
‘I’ll chance it then,’ said Chris, signaling to the waitress. ‘I want to see what all the fuss is about.’
Chapter 10
At Reilly’s request, Gary was trying to track down the boy Grace Gorman had been seeing when she went missing, Darren Keating. The guy had maintained that the relationship wasn’t serious. Of course it wasn’t. Grace had only been fourteen. Keating was fifteen. Nothing’s serious at that age. But it didn’t mean the guy didn’t know anything else about her disappearance.
Reilly had given him this work shortly after the meeting that morning. He felt like she was almost rewarding him for finding the third meal-related murder. He had been pleased to work on anything to do with the Grace Gorman cold case though, even something as mundane as this.
The truth was, he had dreams of being some kind of hero to Lucy. Anything that would finally get her to notice him in a way other than just her idiot workmate. He knew she wasn’t that kind of girl though; she would rather be her own hero. She didn’t go in for acts of chivalry. If he opened a door for her she would just stand and wait for him to go through it. But if he had anything to do with finding out what happened to her sister, she would definitely thank him.
But finding out what happened to Grace Gorman would be its own reward, too. Gary remembered what it was like to be fourteen; to be overwhelmed by the rush of feelings you suddenly had about everything, to be on the edge of everything beginning and to be unable to wait for it to happen. That shouldn’t be taken away from anyone. He had been bullied mercilessly when he was a geeky teenager and the joy and relief he felt when he came out the other side and realized those people had nothing to do with his life any more or how he felt, was immense.
Grace’s old boyfriend had a couple of aliases. He had been in and out of juvenile detention, and then prison. Gary had put in an ID request to the related justice departments to find out where he was now. He did an internet search to see if the guy was on any social media under any of his names, but there was nothing. Gary wouldn’t know what he was in for until he got the information back, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be big enough to make the papers.
He thought back to the house where they had found Grace’s necklace a few weeks back. It had just been a routine search, at first. Someone had reported an abandoned house, but the cops who searched it thought there was something off about it, and they had brought in the GFU.
By sheer luck, it had turned out to be himself, Reilly and Lucy who had searched the place. Well, maybe it wasn’t luck. Now Lucy would always have first-hand memories of that place: its starkness, the blood on the wall shining blue under the luminol, the boxes of wigs and the mannequins stacked up in the attic like bodies. Most creepily, there had been the trinkets hidden in the wall. Things belonging to women that had been picked up like souvenirs. Watches, hair clips, scarves, little things like that. The wigs themselves had been made of human hair. They were still being analyzed and matched to missing persons. It was a long process, and they didn’t know yet if any of the DNA found in the house matched Grace Gorman.
Gary refreshed his email and something from a friend at the Criminal Justice Department popped up. It read:
“Gary, my man, haven’t seen you in ages. Meet us for drinks on Thursday in town sometime? Re your boy Darren Keating, aka Derek Freeman. This guy has been in and out since age fifteen. Juvie records sealed as per norm but I’ll try to get something for you by end of week. He’s been arrested under a few different names so it’s hard to get a read on his sheet, but basically: armed robbery, assault of domestic partner, petty drug dealing and possession. He’s doing a longer stint in Mountjoy for battery and assault, again of his partner. Nasty bit of stuff. Will send through proper records by end of day plus any new info that comes in.”
Well, it wasn’t great news, but at least now they knew where Keating was. It would be easy enough to go over to Mountjoy Prison and interview him, if that’s what Reilly wanted. The bad news was that Lucy’s sister had been hanging around such scum before she died. Gary felt bad that Grace Gorman should ever have been in the same room as someone like this guy.
A knock on his door startled him out of his reverie. It was Lucy. ‘Want to go and grab a sandwich?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been doing background on the Armstrong case and it’s driving me mental.’
When they were sitting in the GFU café downstairs with egg sandwiches, milky tea and a blueberry muffin to share, Gary asked: ‘So, what’s getting to you about the Armstrong case?’
‘Just that Reilly’s having me go through all her emails. No offense to this girl, but they’re boring as hell. I know there’s some more salacious ones about her PR clients but those are blocked. I’m just doing the personal ones. They’re mostly like this: “Saw X last night. Funny guy, but a little lacking in other departments, LOL.” Or “See you for margaritas on Friday. Need to blow off some steam.” Rubbish like that. Nothing really revealing. Reilly’s going to be disappointed.’
Gary laughed. ‘You forget that I had to go through those emails too. But I have to say, I didn’t give them the same excruciating attention. However,’ he said, ‘I did get a look at some of the more interesting ones about her clients.’
‘Don’t hold out,’ she said.
‘I am a bastion of professionalism,’ Gary teased. ‘No way are you getting actual names. But let me say this: a daytime RTE talk show host, who has made his empire on advising others? Has fallen off the wagon, and is into gambling and drugs in a big way. And, an actor from our most beloved TV soap has been caught cheating on his wife, again. It was all pretty grim stuff. No wonder the girl needed to blow off some steam.’
Lucy shook her he
ad. ‘I just feel like it takes someone fairly shallow to do a job like that. Half of those people shouldn’t have their dirty business swept under the rug for them. Why shouldn’t they have to face up to the things they’ve done, like everyone else?’
‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed. ‘They don’t deserve more of a break than anyone else. I don’t think Jennifer Armstrong was shallow though. Everyone has an inner life that’s inaccessible to everyone else Luce. She probably felt just as lonely and confused and disgusted with the world as everyone. But she had a job to do.’
Lucy stared at him. ‘That’s pretty philosophical, for you.’
‘Ouch. I’m not all good looks and laughs, you know. I do actually think about things now and then.’
‘Yeah, I see that now. I know you’re right. I’m just easily distracted lately. Thinking about my sister’s case makes everything else seem petty.’
‘Yeah I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. But Reilly’s really trying to help. She’s got me working on some stuff as we speak. She’s looking out for you.’
Lucy blushed a little. ‘I know she does. I know she’s trying to help me… but I feel like she’s asking too much of me. It’s hard enough to go through all of this again without her asking me to do hypnotherapy. I feel like I’m being accused of something.’
‘That’s not Reilly’s way and you know it. You were a kid when Grace went missing, but you were closest to her. You know from our work with kids that they often blank things out, especially unpleasant things. No one’s blaming you.’
‘It’s just, when we went for that drive, out to my old house, I started to remember all this terrible stuff that happened. How unhappy Grace had been and stuff like that. If I remembered that, just from going for a drive, what will happen if I undergo hypnotherapy?’
Gary took her hand gently. ‘Maybe nothing. Maybe there is truly nothing else for you to remember. But if there is something, even if it’s horrible for you to think about, if it helps find out what happened to Grace, it’s worth it. That’s why we are all here, Lucy. To find things out, so people can get on with their lives. You and your family deserve that too.’
