by Hill, Casey
Resulting in the same horrifying scenario they had here, though the movie had thankfully cut away before showing the end results.
‘That sounds about right,’ Perez said, when Todd outlined the comparison to him. ‘There are burn marks on his torso consistent with a cattle prod of some kind. More concentrated electricity than a taser. It’d be enough to make him harmless, but not so much that he was completely unconscious. If he put his mouth on the curb . . . this injury was caused by abrupt, solid pressure against the back of his head. It would’ve caused his jaw to dislocate . . .’ The doctor swallowed hard.
‘Basically, a slam-down with the flat of a foot rather than a kick with the toe.’ Bradley wanted to clarify.
‘Exactly.’ The doctor’s attention was fixed on the remains.
‘So we should be able to get a foot imprint from the head then.’ Bradley’s voice had lost all of its usual chirpiness. In fact, Todd noticed that his partner looked a bit green.
‘I would think so.’ Dr Perez picked up a pair of surgical scissors and cut off the filth-stained T-shirt.
Afterward, once they’d finished running the scene, Todd made a call as he and Bradley headed back to the car. He spoke softly into the phone. ‘You know what this means . . .’
‘It’s moved beyond murder for the sake of art,’ Daniel replied on the other side. ‘This time the perp chose a brutal, hands-on murder. The Hitcher re-enactment was horrible, but he didn’t physically cause the moment of death. The Deep Red one gave him a taste for it, but even the disfiguring was different; the victim would’ve died even if the water wasn’t boiling. With this one, the route to death chosen was direct, brutal, essential, and for the first time our perp had the starring role in it.’
Todd didn’t like where it was all going. ‘You think he’s going to keep picking stuff like this?’ As Bradley looked back at him from the car to see what the delay was, he held up a hand to indicate that he was on his way.
‘Quite possible, because it’s not just about adding to or emulating movies anymore,’ his father said grimly. ‘I think he’s enjoying himself.’
‘So . . .’ Reilly’s tone was thoughtful as later at the beach house she and Daniel talked through their progress, or lack thereof. She began with the film festival interviews from the day before, trying to establish whether anyone they’d spoken to could be ruled in or out as a possible kidnapper or killer. ‘We have a salacious producer who has a thing for young aspiring stars. He didn’t really seem to know a lot about the world outside of his own private bubble, though.’
‘Is he a good enough performer to fake his ignorance?’ Daniel asked. ‘Someone that self-centered would be narcissistic enough to equate his work with film greats. The question is, would he have been able to deny knowledge when asked directly or would he have wanted to take credit?’
Reilly considered it, then shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. The ego’s there, but I don’t think Toby Carpenter has the maturity to hide anything.’
Daniel nodded and took a sip of red wine. ‘What about the other two – the director and that pompous actor Reynolds. Anything stand out for you?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Both have flagging careers that could have inspired the desire to try something crazy. I know in the past that Reynolds has expressed a desire to try his hand at directing. Most actors do. And both he and Wesley Fisher came across as collected enough to have pulled off hiding whatever they knew.’ Reilly sighed. And then there’s that casting director. He’s one of the last people to have seen Sheldon, but he volunteered to talk to us.’
‘I think the producer we can pretty much discount,’ Daniel said. ‘And the casting director, since he gave us an alibi. The other two might know something, but I don’t know if they’d be better suspects for the kidnapping or the murders. Both had grudges against Drew Sheldon.’ He stood up and crossed to his refrigerator. ‘Maybe the best solution is to send the whole damn lot of them back to LA.’
Reilly smiled. ‘Sounds good to me.’
‘So I’m thinking maybe something light for dinner this evening.’ Daniel changed the topic of conversation. ‘Chicken salad?’
‘Oh,’ Reilly replied, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘Todd’s actually coming to pick me up in about twenty minutes. We’re going to get something to eat.’
‘You and Todd are going out to dinner?’
Reilly could hear Daniel’s amusement loud and clear. She sighed, pushing back her own mixed feelings about the idea. ‘To discuss the case.’ She kept her words firm.
‘Got it.’ She could almost hear his smirk. ‘You know it’s been good having you around,’ he added fondly. ‘And, just so you know, that job offer is open-ended. If for any reason you decide that you want to call it quits with Dublin, all you have to do is say the word.’
‘Thank you,’ Reilly replied, her feelings actually quite mixed at that idea. There was no denying that she was loving being back in the States, and she thrived on the challenge of working alongside Daniel. The weather was so bright and warm and her general demeanor had improved no end. She wondered now if her unusually somber and lackluster mood of late might actually have been some kind of SAD-induced thing, brought on by a three-year deficiency of vitamin D.
Or might her improved mood also be something to do with Todd’s growing appeal? Reilly wasn’t sure and she still couldn’t quite figure out if he’d phoned earlier to ask her out to dinner really to discuss the case, or for any other reason.
Either way, she found she was looking forward to it perhaps a little more than she should have been.
She excused herself to her room, wanting to take a quick shower before Todd arrived. She told herself that it was just to wash away all of the day’s work-related grime, but that didn’t stop her from adding a spritz of lilac-scented body spray as she heard Todd’s car pull up outside.
‘Have fun at dinner.’ Daniel grinned as she emerged from her room. ‘And don’t forget what I said earlier.’ He waved at the pair as he headed out back onto the deck, his own dinner in hand.
‘My dad giving you a hard time?’ Todd gave Reilly a knowing grin as they walked out to his car, a Mustang Shelby.
‘Actually, he keeps offering me a job.’ She decided a simple explanation was best. No need to bring up any other implications.
They were pulling out of the driveway when he asked, ‘And are you going to take it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said truthfully. ‘If you’d have asked me a year ago, I would’ve said no way. Now though, things are different.’
‘Really?’ Todd glanced at her. ‘How are they different?’
‘They just are.’ Reilly’s tone let him know that the discussion was closed. She hadn’t wanted to talk to Daniel about her recent misgivings about Dublin so there was no way she was going to tell Todd. She changed the subject. ‘So, does Reed have any new suspects? Seeing as the Kobiak thing seems like a dead end.’
‘I called him for an update earlier,’ Todd snorted, ‘for all the good it did me. His response was something along the lines of “You do your job and let me do mine”.’
‘I figured as much,’ Reilly said. ‘So how good is Reed – at his job, I mean?’
Todd used the remainder of the journey to fill Reilly in on the various personalities and quirks of the people with whom they worked. Some she’d guessed, others were a huge surprise, such as Bradley Ford’s weakness for musicals.
As they walked up the path to the door of the restaurant, Reilly passed by close enough to get a whiff of the Todd’s aftershave. Armani, she realized, instantly cataloguing it.
The restaurant looked plush and welcoming, and actually much classier than she’d expected, given that many of the restaurants in Clearwater Beach were of the more laid-back barefoot and beachfront kind. Not that Reilly would have minded that either; from what she could tell, as well as offering terrific views most did great seafood along with the best American classics.
‘Two, please,’ Todd said to t
he smiling hostess who motioned for them to follow her. They walked through the main dining area and outside to an open-air wooden terrace perched right above the waterway, twinkling fairy lights strung from surrounding posts above the cosy patio tables. Reilly was almost sorry they’d arrived after dark as she imagined it would be a beautiful place to watch the sunset, and she made a mental note to revisit the restaurant to do just that.
Once they were seated at an intimate table for two directly overlooking the water, Todd switched to asking Reilly about her own life. ‘You’ve been in Dublin for the last couple of years, right?’
Reilly nodded. ‘Almost three, actually.’
‘And you’re in forensics there too?’ Todd took the proffered menu.
She waited until the waitress had taken their drink orders to answer Todd’s question. ‘Yes, I head up the GFU, the Garda Forensic Unit.’
‘A senior investigator?’ Todd sounded impressed. ‘I mean, after the Hicks case, I would’ve expected that here, but in Dublin . . .’
‘My reputation preceded me.’ Reilly couldn’t help but grin. It was actually nice to hear a response that for once wasn’t incredulous. She’d had more than one man imply that she’d earned her position for a different skill set.
It had been only her second official case since graduation, back when she’d been an intern with the San Francisco field office. A local senator, Eldon Hicks had been the prime suspect in the strangulation of a call girl, but there hadn’t been any forensic evidence linking him to the crime scene. It had been Reilly who’d found and identified trace on the senator’s shoes as being from the park where the girl’s body was found. While the discovery had been enough to gain some attention from her colleagues, the moment everyone remembered was what had happened at the trial.
Todd gave a smile that wasn’t like his usual sardonic one. This one was deeper, somehow more solid. ‘Did you really tell the defense attorney that he was dumb?’
Reilly couldn’t help the grin that played over her lips. Back then, she’d barely looked out of high school, even though she was in her twenties; like most men, the defense attorney had underestimated her. He’d implied that she was too inexperienced to properly analyze the two trace samples and, well, she’d lost her temper. And when Reilly lost her temper, she didn’t shout. She just lost the filter between her brain and her mouth.
‘I believe my exact response was, “Normally, I would say that a person’s appearance holds no bearing on their intelligence, but in your case, I’d say that’s a correct assessment. You are as dumb as you look.”’
‘How did you not get fired?’ Todd’s question was punctuated with his laughter.
‘If the prosecution had lost, I probably would’ve been,’ Reilly admitted.
‘Dad talked about that case for weeks.’ Todd glanced up as the waitress returned. ‘He was so proud of you.’
Reilly squirmed in her seat as Todd ordered his meal. Until their conversation the other night, she’d never thought about how often Daniel had talked about her at home.
How Todd must have felt, hearing his dad talk about the accomplishments of someone else, especially when Todd and Reilly were close enough in age and in the same field. He must have felt like the two of them were being compared.
Then add in the pressure of a father as revered as Daniel Forrest . . . No wonder Todd came across as so touchy all of the time. It was a defense mechanism.
She felt his gaze on her as she gave her order – fillet steak cooked ‘Pittsburgh medium’. It was such a revelation to have the server get exactly what she meant, unlike the ones in Dublin who couldn’t possibly know that the term referred to medium on the inside but crispy on the outside. Yet an employee of any US steakhouse restaurant worth its salt would understand immediately.
And as she and Todd chatted easily about everyday stuff distinctly unrelated to the case, she couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her at the notion that he could be attracted to her. Just because she couldn’t deny it didn’t mean she had to act on it, or even like it. She had a job to do and she didn’t need such a diversion interfering with her ability to help with the investigation.
That’s what Reilly told herself as all throughout their dinner she noticed the heat and admiration in Todd’s eyes.
By the end of the meal, she’d almost convinced herself that it was true.
CHAPTER 21
Morning came, and with it Holly Young’s memorial service. Reilly had tried to clear her mind (as well as the effects of the couple of late-night margaritas she’d shared with Todd) beforehand with a run, but it hadn’t worked. When her stomach was still in knots after three miles, she’d turned around and headed back. There was no point in pushing herself when it wasn’t accomplishing her goal.
Daniel had been in his shower when she’d returned. Now, as she tried to decide how best to style her still-damp hair, she heard him behind her. ‘You don’t have to come to the memorial, you know.’ He stood in the doorway to the guest room. He was already dressed in his suit, looking uncomfortable.
Judging by the number of times Reilly had seen him in a suit and tie, she was willing to bet it was the event that was making him uncomfortable, not the attire.
Not that she could blame him. Things like this were never easy. If anyone understood that, it was her. She had never really been a big fan of cemeteries, even before half of her immediate family ended up in one.
She’d certainly never understood people who thought it was somehow mysterious and alluring to hang out around gravestones, to be seen to be grieving, as if grieving itself wasn’t enough.
For her, a cemetery meant one thing; she was visiting her mother and sister’s graves. Nothing alluring about that.
‘If you’re going to be there for Alice Young then I’m going to be there for you.’ Reilly tried not to let her own anxiety seep through. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to sit in some church while a pastor extolled the virtues of a young woman she didn’t know and tried to make sense of a senseless death. But she meant what she said: someone needed to be there for Daniel.
At the service, she sat between Todd and Daniel, resisting the impulse to reach over and take Daniel’s hand when she saw how tightly he was clenching his jaw. She recognized that expression well, had used it herself – the desperate attempt to hold back tears, to be strong when everything inside wanted to break, was already broken.
A grim determination to find the man responsible filled her afresh.
And she didn’t just want the guy found, Reilly realized as she looked at the grieving mother, she wanted him to pay.
Later that day, Todd frowned as he entered the bedroom.
The living room had been trashed, the floor filthy with debris. The bedroom, by contrast, was relatively empty. The only things inside the eight-by-eight room were a bare mattress, the body and the arrows holding the body in place.
He swore to himself, sorry that he hadn’t taken Bradley’s offer of taking the day off after the memorial service this morning. If he had he could have avoided this.
The victim was young, probably early twenties, Todd surmised. Pretty with honey-blond hair. Average height, average weight. She’d been stripped down to her bra and panties, but Todd was willing to bet that there’d been no sexual assault. A neat pile of clothes sat on the floor, splattered with blood. He snapped on his gloves. ‘What do you think?’
‘Robin Hood gone bad?’ Bradley reached out a gloved finger to touch the end of one of the arrows.
‘Robin Hood had better aim,’ Todd countered absently.
The mattress itself had been hit twice, the girl four times. One in the mattress (an apparent miss), another almost dead center in the torso, and the other … right through the eye-socket. Based on the volume of blood and the placement of the lower arrow, a few vitals had been lacerated and the girl had bled out. It was far from the most gruesome scene he’d seen, but it was enough to make Todd feel tired.
‘Another one of our movi
e-maker’s victims or just a pissed-off ex?’ Bradley directed his question to Detective Reed. ‘Maybe a kid who’s been watching too many movies?’
‘No cameras at this one?’ Todd asked. He carefully skirted a puddle of blood to get a closer shot.
‘Nothing that implies a movie re-enactment so far.’ The detective took a step toward the corpse. ‘But there’s something weird about this anyway. You don’t see too many deaths by bow and arrow. Hunting accident with a crossbow, sure, but nothing like this. Nearly twenty-five years on the force and I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘Maybe it’s our guy after all.’ Todd narrowed his eyes, looking over the scene again. There was a familiarity to the theatrics. A deliberateness to the placement of the arrows. ‘Maybe he didn’t film this because it wasn’t the right scene.’
‘But unless it’s out of necessity, he seems to film all of the murders, does his whole edit and video stream thing somewhere else.’ Bradley crouched down for a closer look at the floor. ‘He always has a reason to kill. It’s either a scene he’s set up, or to protect himself. This might look like it could be one of his death scenes, but there are no cameras. It doesn’t look like there’s a motive here.’
‘Sure there is,’ Todd said grimly. It had taken him a minute, but he knew what had happened here.
‘And what’s that?’
He snapped a picture of the body. ‘Practice.’
He took a step back and admired his make-up job. This scene had been in the back of his mind for some time, but he’d thought it too childish. It shouldn’t have been easy to find the right shade this far from Halloween, but when he’d run across it at a craft store, he’d known it was a sign that he had to do it.
And of course it had been all too easy to find his cast member. With the festival in town it was like shooting fish in a barrel. This one seemed to have a little more spark than the other airheads he’d been working with though, and he wondered if she actually had the makings of a true celluloid star after all. Too bad they wouldn’t get to find out.
