TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series)

by Casey Hill

  ‘So no matter what you remember, it probably won’t be admissible?’

  Lucy took a bite of her sandwich, chewed and swallowed and shook her head. ‘No. not in a court. But Reilly wants to see if I know anything that will lead somewhere.’

  They were silent for a moment as they ate. Then Lucy said: ‘You know, I sort of hope that I don’t know anything. Because that means that I’ve been hiding it all this time, when maybe we could have found Grace. And if she suffered more because of me … then I just won’t be able to live with myself.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Luce. Just keep talking about it. And know that I’m here, any time of day or night. You need someone to talk to too.’ He blushed. ‘I know I’m…a bit full on. But seriously, I come in friendship only. Anything else is your call.’

  Lucy nodded. It was a strange declaration to make in the middle of the work cafe with sandwiches and potato salad sitting between them, but she felt its sincerity.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘That means something. Really.’

  At the therapist’s office, the same feeling of weariness and complete surrender overcame Lucy once more. She seemed to float on a sea made entirely of herself, made of her memories. She was carried in the river of her own past. But no matter what, she couldn’t take those memories back with her. When she awoke, all her anxieties and thoughts rushed in once again.

  ‘Did something happen?’ she asked. ‘Did you start yet?’

  ‘We’re finished,’ said the therapist. ‘You were great. How do you feel?’

  ‘I feel fine,’ said Lucy. ‘A little tired.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the therapist. ‘Like last time, you must rest. You must not drink or take any drugs, or over-excite yourself.’

  ‘OK,’ said Lucy. She blushed. Last time, she had gone out after her session and gone drinking with Gary until the wee hours of the morning. Maybe she should have hypnotherapy to find out how she felt about Gary. Because she didn’t seem to be able to tell simply by thinking about him.

  As arranged she dropped the audio transcript off to Reilly at her flat. Her boss had told her there was no way she could keep working on Grace’s case during work time, not if she wanted to keep her job. Lucy felt bad that she was making her work additional hours, but her desire to find out what happened to Grace was stronger. Anything was worth it now, she knew that.

  She hadn’t been inside the flat before. Reilly greeted her at the door, dressed in an ankle length green dress. It was unlike anything she ever wore to work and she looked completely stunning. Lucy couldn’t help but be envious of Reilly’s figure. She was slender, but rounded in all the right places, whereas Lucy was round everywhere. ‘You look amazing,’ she said. ‘Are you going out somewhere?’

  ‘Oh. No,’ said Reilly, smiling. ‘This is just something I throw on at home. But I was thinking you could stay for dinner if you like. I made fish tacos with salsa verde.’

  ‘Sounds amazing,’ said Lucy. ‘Hypnotherapy gives me a huge appetite.’

  As they sat down to eat the tacos, a wave of nausea washed over Reilly. She pushed her plate away. ‘I’ve been feeling a bit off lately,’ she explained. ‘Stomach bug or something.’

  ‘Maybe you should go to the doctor?’

  Reilly smiled. ‘That’s what everyone is saying, but I swear I’m fine. Just tired, I think.’

  ‘It’s been a rough couple of weeks. What’s going to happen with the Armstrong case now?’

  Reilly sighed and took a sip of her water. ‘Well, Inspector O’Brien thinks we have our man but I’m worried we haven’t heard the last from The Chef.’

  ‘The Chef?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve dubbed the unsub. I’m pretty sure the guy is a chef. So much of the evidence points that way. The quality kitchen ware, knowledge of food, precision and attention to detail …’

  They ate the rest of the meal without talking about work. Lucy confided in Reilly about her confused feelings about Gary.

  ‘I mean, I do like him. I’m just not sure if it’s any more than just a friend.’

  ‘Well,’ said Reilly. ‘It’s a tricky situation. But I think that you shouldn’t jump into anything if you feel at all ambivalent. There’s a lot at stake. It could make your working environment really unpleasant.’

  When she left, Lucy felt a little embarrassed at having talked to Reilly about this kind of thing. Reilly herself was so professional, kept her own cards so close to the chest. She would never do a thing like that.

  She shouldn't really be blabbering to her boss about her relationship worries. It was enough that Reilly already was listening in on recordings of Lucy’s deepest, darkest secrets.

  Chapter 24

  What perfect synchronicity, that the day I plan to kill another victim is the day I should run into the people who have been so awful at catching me.

  How wonderful, that they haven’t given up completely. I have the woman pegged for exactly what she is. Blindly dedicated to her work, thinking that she makes a difference. I’ve got news for her: you have made no difference. More will die, and there’s nothing you can do.

  They would make a nice pair, those two. Beautiful children. But she won’t relinquish her clammy grasp on success. Their blindness to me was so complete that it made me feel bold. As though I could go up to them and say: I am the one, and there would be nothing they could do to touch me.

  I’ve been keeping very busy. I have gathered information on Constance Dell. Because of the prevalence of that stupid invention, Facebook, I have found out a lot about my little cousin. Surprise, surprise, a love of long distance running runs in the family. Pun intended. Little Connie has joined a running group.

  As a rule, I hate those things. I prefer to run alone, with my thoughts, but in this case I will make an exception. She is very active on the group’s page, asking newbie questions and so on. Who better to mentor her than someone who has years of experience? Who better to tell her exactly how she can learn the discipline, the dedication of such a craft? Although, I suspect from her soft upbringing that she doesn’t have the same drive that I do, the same capacity for self-punishment. Her profile is full of pictures of her and her witch mother enjoying holidays, Christmas, shopping trips. Sadly, all to soon come to an end.

  I prepare for tonight with much anticipation. I imagine that the girl prepares in the same way, moisturizing and scenting her skin, ridding her body of unsightly hair, of an excess.

  She will be perfect for the night of her death. Make no mistake, there is something ritualistic in serving people food, even more so in preparing someone’s last meal. In the same way, you would prepare a lamb for sacrifice.

  I am looking forward to tonight, but it has taken on the feeling of a dress rehearsal. Constance is the main act, now.

  After Lucy left, Reilly put the CD of her hypnotherapy session in the player. She would have rather done anything else, but she felt duty bound. She felt exhausted, and Lucy’s confessions about Gary had only drained her further. They just served to remind her of her own confused feelings about Chris. She was glad that Kennedy would be back soon to act as a buffer between them.

  The session started with the same routine as the time before, the therapist slowly lulling Lucy into a state of openness. Reilly almost felt that she was being pulled into sleep herself. She forced herself to focus.

  ‘Are you afraid, Lucy?’ The therapist began.

  ‘Yes,’

  ‘Why?’

  Lucy sighed petulantly. ‘I told you. Grace says that if I tell, they’ll come after me too.’

  ‘Who will come after you?’

  ‘His brother.’

  ‘Why would he come after you?’

  ‘He is bad. Very bad. He did the thing to Grace.’

  ‘What thing did he do to her?’

  ‘You know,’ she said. ‘You know. Grace came home hurt. She said Darren hated it but he can’t stop it. His brother is bad. He makes her do things.’

  Oh God … Reilly stopped the reco
rding. Her heart was pounding. The feeling was so strong she put a hand to her chest. She truly thought her heart might leap out. This was the kind of breakthrough everyone investigating the case had been hoping for for almost eighteen years, and it had slipped out of Lucy like a fish from water.

  ‘Is your sister angry?’

  ‘She’s upset. She wants to run away with Darren. They love each other. He can’t stop it. His brother does it to hurt him. Because he loves Grace. He isn’t allowed to love her.’

  ‘What does his brother do to Grace?’

  ‘You know,’ said Lucy. ‘You know.’

  Reilly switched off the recording then. She switched it off and put her head in her hands and cried.

  She cried for the fourteen year old Grace, for having gone through such a thing, for Lucy, for having carried it for so many years, and even for Darren himself, who had tried and failed to escape his brother.

  She felt, at that moment, that there was truly no end to the misery of the world.

  When Chris’s mobile rang at 11pm, he almost ignored it. He was halfway through a good book, an excellent glass of red wine by his side. But you can’t ignore the call of duty. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Chris, it’s me.’

  ‘Reilly, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Can I come over?’ she said. ‘I need to see you.’

  He didn’t ask any questions. ‘I’ll pick you up, if you like.’ he said. ‘I’ll be there soon.’

  Reilly didn’t look at him in the car and he didn’t ask her what was wrong. But once she was standing in the middle of his living room, seemingly blind to her surroundings, she gave him such a naked look of need that it almost leveled him.

  ‘Reilly…’ he began.

  ‘Please,’ she said, placing her hands on his chest. ‘Don’t say anything.’

  He took her in his arms and soon all words were forgotten. It was like returning home after a long absence, Chris thought, like eating when you have been starving.

  Chapter 25

  Such perfection, this time. No annoying phone calls, nothing left undone, or left behind. She was as beautiful as her pictures indicated, as ruthless as her conversations had suggested. Barely I was in the door before she told me what she wanted.

  Cook for me, she said, and then feed me.

  Gladly, I replied.

  I took my time over the food, ensuring that the pork was cooked to perfection; that it would melt in the mouth like cotton candy. I mixed nightshade with the parsnip puree, then garnished the whole thing with those tiny, sweet flowers that are so absolutely deadly.

  Why do you wear gloves when you cook, she asked. Don’t you want to be close to the food?

  I told her that it was an old habit, that it allowed me to work faster.

  Will you take the gloves off when you touch me?

  Of course, I lied.

  And then I kneeled before her and gently placed each forkful in her mouth. It took her slowly, before she even knew it was happening. Her eyes became unfocused, the blood began to recede from her face, leaving it numb. Her tongue and jaw stopped working effectively. I had to scoop the last mouthful from her mouth lest she choked, making her death ugly and violent. At the last moment she realized that something was wrong, and she looked up at me, pleading for something that I could not give, even if I wanted to. Please, she tried to say, and I put my gloved hand up to her lips.

  No, I said, don’t talk.

  As she was dying, unable to move, I went into her bedroom. I stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the brightly pattered bedspread. I lay myself down on it carefully, and began to take in great gulps of her scent. I am searching for the smell of my mother and though I don’t find it in the beds of these low women, I come close.

  When I got up, I tidied everything away. I left the dish for them to find. I want them to know of my handiwork.

  She had closed her eyes. There was nothing else that I could do for her.

  I donned my backpack and ran home, running with power, running with exhilaration.

  When Reilly and Chris woke the next morning, there was no shyness or awkwardness between them. Reilly felt completely at home, wrapped in a blanket, drinking the orange juice he had brought her.

  ‘You know, we could just call in sick,’ he said. ‘The Armstrong case is wrapped up for the most part. And we could spend the day just…’

  ‘Two problems,’ she interjected lightly. ‘We can’t abandon Kennedy on his first day back, plus the gossip it would cause just isn’t worth it.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he said. ‘I wish you weren’t, but you are.’

  She smiled. ‘Aren’t I always? Besides, I have a ton of work to do.’ She felt a twinge at the thought of talking to Lucy. How would she even begin to impart such terrible news about what had likely happened to Grace? Whatever Lucy had suspected she was hiding from herself, it was nothing as awful as this.

  Chris’s phone rang and while he talked in the kitchen, Reilly dressed quickly. She would have to get him to drop her home so she could put some work clothes on. She didn’t know where this was headed. She didn’t want to think about it.

  They hadn’t slept together the night before, but things had been intense. Chris, gallant as ever, had put a stop to things before they got too heavy, protesting her vulnerability and state of mind over what she’d learned. Instead, he had simply held her and listened while she talked, and eventually until she fell asleep.

  She checked her phone for messages. A couple of missed calls and a ton of emails. One caught her eye immediately: Todd.

  “Hey, how are you doing? Just wanted to check in and see how you were since you got back to Dublin. We miss you over here.”

  Great timing, she thought. Just perfect. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough. Of course, the message was completely innocuous, but it didn’t do anything to lessen her confusion.

  Chris came into the room as she was arranging her hair into a high knot. ‘You’re right. Definitely no rest for us today - or the wicked. There’s been another murder.’

  Chapter 26

  Naomi Worthington had been a homewares designer on the cusp of major success, and her house looked like something straight out of a magazine. Unfortunately, it was just then completely overrun by cops and GFU techs.

  ‘Not a great start to my first day back,’ said Kennedy. ‘It seems as though whoever this guy was, it wasn’t Harry McMurty.’

  ‘As I tried, and failed, to convince O’Brien,’ said Reilly, grimly. ‘He’ll listen now, but he’ll also have a PR nightmare on his hands.’

  Lucy and Gary were already at the scene. If Lucy noticed that Reilly was wearing the same casual dress as she had been the night before, she didn’t say anything. Reilly could only hope she would be too distracted by her own concerns to think too deeply about it.

  She cleared everyone else from the room where the body was so that it was just herself, Chris, Kennedy and the forensic team. She didn’t need a bunch of uniforms fumbling around.

  ‘Gary, has anyone checked the bedroom yet?’

  ‘Yeah, it was the first thing I did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Same thing as the others,’ said Gary. ‘That weird rumpling disturbance of the bedspread.’

  ‘Photos?’

  ‘Of course. I’m going over it for trace now, then we’ll get Julius to work his magic on it.’

  ‘Good. Anything else stand out?’

  ‘It’s a tidier job than last time,’ said Kennedy. ‘He did the bloody dishes, the cheeky bugger.’

  ‘All but this one,’ said Reilly. Putting on a mask, she knelt down to inspect the leftover meal. She wasn't going to make the same mistake this time.

  It was half eaten. The meat was congealing in a white puree, small flowers were limp and drowned in the oily film that had formed since it was cooked. Through her mask, she could still smell the meat, and she thought she could detect a hint of decay, the rottenness that is at the heart of dead things. It took a
ll her strength to hold back her nausea. It was just her imagination, she knew. The meat definitely couldn’t be off yet, and there was no way the body had decomposed that fast.

  ‘There’s just a fork here,’ she commented.

  ‘We noticed some indentations in the carpet,’ said Gary. ‘It seems like someone was kneeling in front of her maybe?’

  ‘OK, get pressings of the carpet and the distribution of weight.’

  She took off her mask and tried to get a sense of the room. It was, and had been filled with other people since the murder, so that didn’t help. There was the smell of cooking, certainly, behind that a certain sharpness. Maybe sweat? It was hard to tell after so much time. Added to everything else, the victim had favored placing little vanilla soy candles throughout the room and it was that smell, more than anything else, that was getting to Reilly.

  ‘It’s still so early,’ she said. ‘She lives alone. How was she discovered so early?’

  ‘Her masseuse,’ said Lucy. ‘They keep a regular appointment at this hour. He has a key, and he came in to find her like this.’

  ‘Did he touch the body?’

  ‘Well, yeah. He thought she was just passed out.’

  ‘Dammit. OK, I want you two back to the lab quick as you can to start processing whatever we have. Gary, I want you working overtime on the victim’s phone, her laptop. Whatever. My guess is that she used the same dating sites as Jennifer Armstrong.’

  ‘On it,’ said Gary.

  ‘Get the bedclothes and the food to Julius before it has time to break down any further.’

  ‘This could be something,’ said Kennedy from across the room. He held a small posy of flowers in his gloved hand. ‘I’m not going to smell these, I know how lethal this guy’s concoctions can be.’