Endgame: CSI Reilly Steel #7

by Casey Hill

  When the food was ready, she dished up two plates and gestured for him to follow her to the table. When they reached it however, they were stopped by the piles of paper on the table.

  Chris looked over the paperwork, charts and books, some of it pertaining to the Hackett investigation, but a lot designated to other ongoing cases. There were countless articles about recent forensic discoveries and a few textbooks sat amongst the clutter, their brightly colored covers sticking out through the manila and white of the paper and folders.

  “Why does this not surprise me?” he asked, smirking.

  “We can just eat on the couch,” she said, her mind working through the problem quickly and coming up with a viable solution. She re-routed immediately, heading toward the sofa. If she was embarrassed by the mess she didn’t show it. The only part that bothered her was how quickly Chris must have discerned that she rarely ate at the table. Truthfully, Saturday night with him and Todd had been the first time in a significant period that she’d broken bread at her table with someone else.

  Usually case files were her company.

  Reilly kicked off her flats and reclined back into the couch, sighing as the cushions padded around her aching back. Carefully, she balanced the plate on her rounded stomach, maneuvering her fork so she could eat it without the inconvenience of dropping the food.

  Beside her, Chris let out a snort. She looked over at him, confused, until she realized the idea of her sitting her dinner on her protruding stomach must look pretty funny. Chris mimicked her, putting his feet up on her coffee table and setting the plate on his chest.

  “Hey,” she said, between his snorts of laughter, “I do what I can.”

  Chris shook his head, still laughing, “Is this a bit like the sock thing? You’ve had to reroute your life to accommodate dinner, too?”

  Reilly laughed again, but as the thought blossomed in her mind, she quickly sobered up. She was going to have to accommodate a lot more, real soon.

  She felt, suddenly, like she had the first few weeks she was in Dublin. Confused, afraid, and uncertain about her decision. What Todd had said was right. She was only just about used to the Irish culture - how on earth was she going to raise a baby here?

  “Hey,” Chris said softly, sensing her change in mood. He set his plate down on the coffee table. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head, tears suddenly springing to her eyes as once again the fear and anxiety she’d recently been holding back, flooded forward, pushing at her heart out of the way on their way to her eyes.

  She started to lean forward, forgetting about her food, and he snatched the plate away, gently placing it on the table.

  “I really don’t know if I can do this, Chris,” she said quietly.

  It was so unlike her to be unsure about anything, he didn’t think about his movements as they happened, he just scooted over and put a comforting arm around her.

  At his touch, she unraveled with a sob. Chris ran his hands up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her, the same way his own mother used to do for him when he was upset or angry, but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect, so then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as Reilly cried into his chest.

  He held her against him for what seemed like a very a long time, lightly caressing the top of her head, in an attempt to comfort her.

  Some words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't say them to her.

  Not now, and perhaps not ever.

  At the moment, she was far too fragile for Chris to add to her worries. She had already made it clear that she didn’t want to be with him, and the guilt of unreciprocated feelings would only weigh her down.

  But that didn't mean he couldn't be there for her as a friend, like he’d promised. He tightened his arms around her, determined that while he couldn’t be everything she needed, he would give her as much as he could, starting with a shoulder to cry on.

  Once she had collected herself, Reilly stiffened a little and pulled away from him, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry …”

  “Hey,” Chris interrupted, his words soft. “I’m here for you, you know that. We’ve been friends for a long time, remember?”

  She shook her head, nodded, then looked around for something to wipe her eyes. She was sure that her face was puffy from crying. Man, she was an idiot.

  Chris reached over the other side of the couch, plucking two tissues from the box that rested on a side table. “Here,” he said, brushing her hair away and offering her the tissues.

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  “So, how did you figure out that it was the twin thing, anyway?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing, as though he was actually interested in the answer. Reilly appreciated his effort even if it was completely transparent. He knew that the one thing that always made her feel better was thinking about a crime scene and puzzling it out.

  “It was because of some antenatal booklet Todd brought home from the doctor’s the other day. On the front was this picture of two babies in the womb - twins - and I got to thinking about the Glynns, which led me to consider the epithelial DNA left at the crime scene. It struck me that the trace we automatically assumed was from Holly could also belong to her twin.”

  Chris looked at her with something akin to with awe, even as his stomach clenched at the idea of Todd with an educational booklet about their baby.

  “Can you imagine that?” she mumbled, her voice now low and tired, almost delirious.

  “What?” Chris asked, his mind still preoccupied with the idea of Reilly and Todd attending an antenatal appointment for their baby together. He glanced down at her stomach. Had Todd felt the baby kick? Had he introduced himself as its father?

  “Giving birth to twins,” Reilly said, yawning openly now, “not only would it be incredibly painful, but you’d also have so much more responsibly. Two more mouths to feed instead of one, and as a parent you’d have to keep a close eye on two - as if one isn't bad enough …”

  Chris stayed still as once again, Reilly leaned gently against his shoulder. Ever so slowly, he draped an arm over her again, wanting to make sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries. But she didn't pull away.

  “Some people have more than one kid on purpose you know. And having twins would be considered a miracle for some couples.”

  “Yeah,” Reilly said, her voice sleepy. She could barely keep her eyes open.

  They sat there silently for a while in the late evening light.

  After a while, she glanced up at Chris, who was staring out the large bay window facing the street. His jawline was sharp and defined, and he clearly hadn’t shaved since Saturday.

  He was thinking, thinking, thinking, the tick in his jaw giving away his racing brain. Whatever thoughts were running through his mind just then weren't making him happy.

  Reilly thought of how he was with Rachel, his goddaughter. He knew exactly how to act with children, though he had none of his own. Whereas she didn’t know the first thing about them and she was going to have one soon. She was going to have to remember to feed it, take care of it, and she couldn’t even manage to keep a houseplant alive.

  He closed his eyes as she continued to rest her head on his shoulder, feeling more comfortable than she’d been in months. She was aware that how they were sitting now, so close together, violated the idea that they were simply friends, but no part of her wanted to move away from him, so she stayed right where she was.

  The next time she looked up at Chris, his eyes were still closed but his head was resting against the back of the couch. He had dozed off.

  She stared at this man, who was holding her so tenderly, encircling her in his strong arms in sleep, and was reminded of the time he had saved her life, the many times he’d had her back since she’d come to Dublin.

  And when the words that encapsulated exactly how she felt about Chris Delaney suddenly materialized on her lips - just like Todd had insisted - it was all Reilly could do not to whisp
er them out loud into the darkness.

  From the Author: Thank you for reading ENDGAME, we hope you enjoyed the story. If so, we’d be most grateful if you could rate/review the book at your preferred retailer if you have a free moment. Thanks again.

  Send feedback. If you have a question about the CSI Reilly Steel series, would like to point out any errors/typos in the story (besides the usual UK/US English grammatical discrepancies!) or simply want to contact the author, please email caseyhillbooks@gmail.com

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  New to the CSI Reilly Steel series? Find out how it all began in TABOO, the first book in the series. Read on for a short excerpt.

  TABOO - CSI REILLY STEEL #1

  Forensic investigator Reilly Steel, Quantico-trained and California-born and bred, imagined Dublin to be a far cry from bustling San Francisco, a sleepy backwater where she can lay past ghosts to rest and start anew.

  She's arrived in Ireland to drag the Garda forensics team into the 21st-century plus keep tabs on her Irish-born father who's increasingly seeking solace in the bottle after a past tragedy.

  But a brutal serial killer soon puts paid to that. A young man and woman are found dead in a hotel room, the gunshot wounds on their naked bodies suggesting a suicide pact. But as Reilly and the team dig deeper and more bodies are discovered, they soon realize that a twisted murderer is at work, one who seeks to upset society's norms in the most sickening way imaginable...

  CSI Reilly Steel series:

  #0 CRIME SCENE (Series Prequel)

  #1 TABOO

  #2 INFERNO

  #3 HIDDEN

  #4 THE WATCHED

  #5 TRACE

  #6 AFTERMATH

  #7 ENDGAME

  PROLOGUE

  San Francisco Bay area, California

  ‘Go on, Reilly, I dare you.’

  ‘Jess, forget it – I’m not doing it, OK?’ Reilly Steel trundled along the path on her way home from school. Her younger sister skipped along in front of her, her fluffy blond pigtails bouncing with every step.

  She hated picking up her sister from school — all her friends got to hang out at the mall, but no, she had to go get Jess, take her home, give her a snack, make sure she did her homework. ‘You know Dad says we should stay away from him,’ she said.

  Twenty yards ahead, an old man walked slowly back and forth across his yard, raking leaves. Dressed in an old flannel shirt and dirty overalls, he had a pronounced stoop, thin silver hair raked across his head and large gnarled hands wrapped round the handle of the rake. It was fall; the leaves were turning on the trees, the sun sinking lower in the sky with each passing day.

  Jess looked at Reilly, her clear blue eyes shining with mischief. ‘Go on, say something to him.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I just said? We’re not supposed to talk to that guy.’

  ‘But why?’

  Reilly exhaled in annoyance. ‘Why what, Jess?’

  ‘Why aren’t we supposed to talk to Mr Reynolds?’

  She glanced at the older man and shivered. Randy Reynolds they called him — word was he had a taste for little girls. Jess was staring at him, her eyes wide with fascination as though she half knew the truth.

  ‘He’s a bad guy. He … does things to little girls,’ Reilly said, finally. She gave her sister a nudge. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’

  Jess didn’t move. ‘What kind of things?’

  Reilly sighed. She knew her sister well enough to recognize that look – Jess wasn’t going anywhere until her question had been answered. ‘Well, he likes to … touch girls—’

  ‘Touch them?’

  ‘Touch their bits, you know … like their private parts,’ she continued, uncomfortably.

  Understanding suddenly dawned in Jess’s eyes. ‘Eeew! Why would he want to do that?’

  How to explain to a wide-eyed ten-year-old when in all honesty Reilly didn’t get it herself? ‘I don’t know,’ she mumbled. ‘I guess some guys just do.’

  Jess looked thoughtful. ‘He’s not supposed to do that though, is he?’

  ‘No. Like Dad always says, nobody touches your private parts except you.’ She nudged her again. ‘Come on, let’s go. We’ve got lots of homework, and you know Dad’ll get mad if it’s not done before he gets back from work.’

  Not only that but Reilly also had to make dinner and clean the house, all the things a mom should do.

  But not their mom.

  She and Jess started walking again, closer to Reynolds’ house. As they passed, the old man stopped raking. He looked up, his eyes glistening as he watched them walk past.

  ‘Hi girls.’ His voice was a low croak.

  Reilly said nothing and kept her head down, but Jess stared right back, insolent, looking him straight in the eye. ‘Jess, I’m warning you,’ Reilly muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  ‘You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?’ Reynolds said, his mouth breaking into a grin. Jess stared back, a defiant look in her eyes. Reilly grabbed her hand and tried to haul her along, but she pulled free.

  ‘You like little girls, don’t you?’ Jess challenged. She stepped forward. ‘You want to touch my private parts, right? Go ahead then.’ And with that, she lifted her skirt and flashed her pink cotton Snoopy pants at him.

  ‘Jess!’ Reilly cried, flabbergasted.

  Reynolds stared transfixed – evidently torn somewhere between surprise, lust and shame. Then just as suddenly, Jess dropped her skirt, picked up a stone and hurled it with all her strength. Caught off-guard, the man stumbled backward and landed in a crumpled heap on his lawn.

  Jess turned and ran, grabbing Reilly’s hand as she raced past. ‘Come on!’

  They didn’t stop running until they were around the corner.

  Breathless, Reilly looked at her little sister. ‘What the hell were you doing, Jess? You don’t flash at people … Don’t you ever do something like that again!’

  Jess was wide-eyed. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well … because it’s just not the thing to do.’ Reilly struggled for words. ‘We were told to stay away from him. You could get yourself in serious trouble.’ She shook her head, amazed but also faintly impressed at her brazenness. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’

  Jess looked back at her with innocent eyes. ‘You said he’s a bad guy. And bad guys are supposed to be punished, aren’t they?’

  1

  DUBLIN, IRELAND

  Reilly’s head shot up off the pillow and she stared around her, momentarily forgetting where the hell she was.

  She took slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm her heart rate, and let her eyes gradually adjust to the shadow-filled room.

  Lying back down, she stared up at the ceiling, the lights of the passing cars creating abstract patterns as they slid by in the rain-slicked streets below. Her thoughts wandered in a random, half-asleep manner and wound up back with Jess.

  It had been a while since she’d dreamt about her sister. Maybe a year or more, which was good; Dr Kyle, her shrink back home, would have been proud of her. The less she dreamt about Jess and the less she thought about Jess, the better.

  Because thinking about her, about it had never got Reilly anywhere. Although Dr Kyle would probably argue that thinking about Jess had had a profound influence on Reilly in every conceivable way. In fact, the doc had implied more than once that if the whole Jess situation had never happened, then she might well have decided to follow a very different path. But he was a shrink so of course he would say that.

  Her thoughts had brought her full circle, wide awake in a dingy Dublin apartment in the middle of the night. Sleep was gone for now so pulling back the covers, Reilly got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  She switched on the light and gasped at the sight in the mirror. A bright red scar ran along one cheek and she rubbed furiously at it, hoping the seam mark from the
pillow would go away. Her eyes were glassy and swollen from lack of sleep and her fair hair was tousled, knotted and badly in need of a trim. A quick wash and shampoo would just have to do for now she sighed, stepping into the shower.

  A few minutes later, she wrapped herself in a towel and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Or at least that’s what the cheery real estate guy who’d rented her the place had called it – as she far as Reilly was concerned, it was nothing but a glorified broom closet. But apparently in this town, a broom closet for a kitchen was all you got for the best part of a thousand bucks a month, and for that, Reilly had also been blessed with a ‘modern open-plan living area’ and a ‘cosy bedroom’.

  If you considered coffins cosy, she’d wanted to reply. But at least the place was in better shape than anything else she’d seen, and at the time she’d needed to find somewhere to live – fast. By then the hotel bills had started to mount up, and her employers were bitching about the expense.

  Dublin had come as a shock to her – no strike that – Ireland had come as a shock to her. Growing up back home in California, her father used to love telling her and Jess colorful stories about the country of his birth; it sounded almost magical - a land full of green open spaces and welcoming, friendly people. She never tired of hearing tales about Mike Steel’s childhood before the family’s eventual emigration to California.

  But upon her arrival four months before, Reilly quickly realized that the slow-paced, easy-going picture of Ireland her dad had painted didn’t fit at all with the Dublin she found.

  Instead of the laid back and carefree natives he’d described, Reilly was faced with a population of supremely confident, well-educated and ambitious go-getters, even though like the rest of the world, Ireland had recently suffered its fair share of financial turmoil and unemployment.

  While Reilly was under no illusion that working in Dublin would be a holiday, she was already taken aback at level of serious crime in the country, particularly one with such a small population.