Aftermath (19 page)

"
T
his is such a blessing
. I can't believe how many faces I see here tonight. So much love. So much goodwill. Thousands paying tribute to my wonderful husband. I'm just... I'm just so... overwhelmed. Thank you, thank you so much. I love you all.

"The candles are beautiful. I've always loved candles. But let’s not forget that this isn't about someone we've lost. Josh is a fighter. He's the strongest most ferocious fighter I've ever known. He will get through this, and when he does, he will tell us what happened to him.

"We are not here to mourn Josh, we are here to urge him on. We are his fans on the pitch, his cheerleaders in life. We want him to win this, his biggest challenge yet. We need to spur him on, let him know that we are here and we want him to make it through. We must resurrect those old chants from the Ireland matches, shout his name from the stands, let him know we support him!

"So many times I saw him on this pitch, a warrior beating a path through his enemies. Well now his biggest enemy is a coward. Someone who struck him down with no motive. Well, that monster will get his just rewards, mark my words. I will not rest until Josh's attacker is brought to justice.

"And none of you must rest, either. Don't stop believing. Don't stop hoping. Give him your cheers, your support. And when he comes back to us, when his eyes open and he rises from the depths of the darkness, he will see what I see here tonight. An ocean of angels.

"Thank you all so much for this event and for your kind words, your music, your wonderful food. Thank you for being here for Josh. Thank you for being here for me.

"My prayers are with my husband now. I know he will return to me strong. As strong as ever. And just like always, I’m sure he will have an amazing story to tell.

"Thank you all, you've been so wonderful. I think... I think that's about all... that's about all I can say. Thank you."

I
t was late
, so Reilly ordered pizza.

The team was grateful, but having unloaded Tricia's story, they were eating it with sullen expressions. Maybe she’d misread them--it could have been thoughtful expressions? Sullenly thoughtful, perhaps.

She ate silently too, letting the scenario dance in her consciousness a bit. Truthfully if Annabel Morrison had killed Ian Cross it made a lot of sense, and would explain why Josh felt the sudden need to drive his friend through a wall.

To cover for what his wife had done.

This scenario also worked with the separation documents. Annabel was likely holding this incident over his head, but needed the legal standing to make sure he wouldn't squeal.

So the connections were starting to come together, but where was the evidence?

That was what the team was thinking about, while slowly eating pizza which had long since gone cold.

Moments like these weren’t particularly unusual. Often at the climax of any major investigation the crew would be completely lost in their own worlds, trying to process everything through a sort of mental osmosis.

Sometimes making evidentiary connections required a step back in order to just let the information flow. Many of Reilly’s own major breakthroughs had been a result of quiet contemplation.

All of them, while eating the cold pizza, were on that track. They hoped for some inspiration. Some missing link they hadn't yet noticed.

Backtracking through the whole process and trying to uncover that one thing that was missed.

But with this, it was so much more difficult, because they had to rely upon someone else's evidence. Draw conclusions based upon decades-old assumptions. And they had no access to a crime scene. No access to witnesses.

Even the data preserved from all that time was incomplete, aged or completely missing. They had a Herculean task ahead of them, trying to connect things that really had no obvious relationships. The act of solving one crime, so as to drive another one forward was not new for them, but that didn't make it any easier.

She drifted in and out along the ebbs and flows of thought, and then snapped to consciousness. The others were staring off into space, apparently lost in their own ebbs and flows.

“So what are you guys thinking?" she asked finally.

There was no immediate answer.

Julius finally spoke, "There's no way to prove that she killed that guy. Any physical evidence relating to that crime is long gone."

“Wait …” Gary jumped up so quickly, his pizza fell on the floor.

"What?"

“Did you get a specific account from that witness about where the argument happened? I mean in the house?"

"Yes," said Reilly.

"Limestone."

“What?” Lucy looked blank.

"Of course,” Reilly said, sitting up. The material’s famously porous properties meant that they might still be able to pick up latent blood stains via fluorescence.

"Or urine stains," said Gary, when he explained. "They have a cat. Or did have. Apparently."

“Even better, we should have Cross’s DNA on file," said Julius eagerly. "We'd have to, they’d have taken blood samples on autopsy."

"Twenty years ago? Do we keep lab samples that long?"

He nodded.

“And the DNA would still be good?"

"DNA has a 521-year lifespan," he said solemnly. "We just need to make a positive control test and use a barrier filter."

“Brilliant,” Reilly said, snapping into action. "Lucy, can you look over the coroner files again, and see if there’s anything in the autopsy that concurs with the witness’s theory?"

“Sure,” she said, jumping up along with Julius who had an atypical bounce in his step at the prospect of a DNA-related challenge.

R
eilly took
Villa Azalea’s blue print and looked it over, going over Tricia's account of the time.

The argument had taken place in the hallway, she’d said. With a surface like limestone, it shouldn't be too difficult identifying latent bloodstains.

She hoped though, that the Morrison’s hadn’t replaced the flooring or remodeled extensively since then, but by her recollection the same Moleanos limestone had also been present in the O’Donnell house the other day, suggesting this had been the builder’s original finish.

She wondered too how much fluorescein they would have to use to find the precise spot. If they found nothing, it wouldn't necessarily disprove Tricia's account, but would leave them with little to go on if they wanted to bring Annabel further into the frame.

She was once again grateful that her team included guys like Julius who seemed to have an endless volume of knowledge on forensic technology.

As she thought more than once, she didn't have enough scientist in her sometimes.

She marked the general area on the blue print and drew markers around the possible parameters for investigation.

They only had one more chance to do this before the crime scene was released tomorrow.

A
while later
, Lucy called Reilly over to look at the coroner photos again.

“So anything stand out as different, now that you've heard Tricia's story?" she asked.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Reilly looked the report over and immediately saw it. "Sharp force patterns," she said above a whisper. "Those didn't come from rocks."

They were speaking about the punctured lacerations all over Ian Cross’s face and head. Taken all together, it looked like blunt force trauma from the brick walls, but in the context of Tricia's interview, it seemed clear as day.

There were several small puncture wounds surrounded by contusions.

“Stiletto heels it looks like,” Lucy said, looking a bit green at the thought that her style-hero could have used her enviable shoe collection for such a purpose.

"Is that even possible?" Reilly asked.

"Why not? They're certainly strong enough. The heel is sharp. If was down and she was wailing on him .…”

"How many times was he hit?"

She shook her head, "I really couldn't say. A lot.”

Reilly felt nauseous. This was too much. She'd had about all she could take from these people. In her view there was plenty enough evidence to bring Annabel in on suspicion of stabbing Josh.

No doubt the woman was capable of such an atrocity, mostly because she had too much to lose if that more heinous crime ever came out. They both did. More than money and a ruined career. Life in prison. A daughter taken into care.

It was a long time before Reilly could think straight again, let alone talk.

She thought about the baby just then, a thought that was becoming increasingly paramount.

Would she be able to do this kind of thing with a child in the mix? If she couldn't handle the realities of people now, what would she think when she was raising a kid that had to live around them.

She felt depressed, angry, scared.

"You okay, boss?" Gary asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's head for the Morrison place now. You drive. Do you have the fluorescein prepared?"

"Oh yeah, I'm ready for this."

"Great, then let’s do it."

T
he first thing
they found was the cat.

"Hope someone's been feeding it," said Lucy.

Reilly knelt down and scratched its ginger tabby ears. It offered a friendly meow and then rubbed against her legs. She checked to make sure the food bowl was filled and it was, then she handed Gary some of the fur.

"There, now you can eliminate the cat."

He laughed and began preparing the fluorescein.

"Where do you suppose we should do this then?”

Reilly gave him the marked blue print. "Tricia said Ian and Annabel were arguing in the hallway.”

The rest of the team stayed outside the area and watched while Gary put sterile wraps over his shoes and equipped himself with a mask. Very carefully he mixed a solution in a spritz bottle and then sprayed down the area Reilly had indicated.

"Now we wait," he said.

They did so quietly for about ten minutes as they waited for the solution to set in. When it was about time, Gary stood up and grabbed the UV lamp from his kit.

"Okay, we need this place completely dark," he said. "Draw the curtains, kill the lights."

Lucy did so until it was very dark inside. Gary turned on the UV light and swept it over the floor.

They saw it immediately. A latent blood splatter that went a couple of inches around the floor.

"An argument?" Reilly said. "This was a homicide."

"How the hell did they miss this?" Lucy cried sharply.

"They weren't looking for it. As far as they were concerned Ian Cross died at the scene of a drunk-driving accident. Why would they come here to look for a covered-up crime scene?”

"Okay, stop staring," said Reilly. ”Get the pictures while the solution’s still fresh. Nail it."

Gary did as he was told, meticulous about the photos and the positioning of the blood spatter trajectories. There could have been more, but the clarity was obscured by the limits of the solution. The process took quite some time, and when he was finished, Lucy turned on the lights.

"So," said Gary. “What now?"

"I think it’s high time we brought in Annabel Morrison in.”

A
nnabel had been staying
at the InterContinental Hotel in Ballsbridge - handily only a stone’s throw from Lansdowne Road.

Reilly guessed she'd be going back there after the vigil, which judging by the time - almost eleven - must be very nearly over.

She’d called Chris, but had only managed to get his voicemail, Kennedy’s too. She guessed things must be getting pretty loud at the event…ah heck, it was a goddamn concert.

It was truly now or never. They needed to get this woman in for questioning once and for all.

While there, Reilly knew the truth would come out. They now had far too much evidence that would incriminate her, and so she’d probably insist on making a deal.

Then it would all unfold from there.

She knew she would likely take some heat for this, especially from Chris, but that didn't matter.

In spite of the obstacles, she’d done the right thing. And in the process uncovered a momentous cock-up under the nose of one of the force’s most respected detectives. They needed to close off this case and turn the tide of public opinion. They needed to turn the media spotlight off the investigation and towards a trial.

Reilly knew to her core that Annabel was behind this and finally, after everything, she would make sure that the woman had to answer for everything she'd done. Answer for Josh Morrison. Answer for Ian Cross.

Answer for two decades of manipulation and cover-ups.

Certainly Josh would have things to answer for too--but in Reilly's mind, Josh's crime was reactionary.

Sure he'd be investigated for what he did to cover up his wife's murder, but the real villain in this story was Annabel Morrison.

She was the prize.

The person who needed to take an account of what she'd done and be put away for life for doing it. This wasn't just an attempted murder; this was so much more. This was manipulation of the highest order. The woman had been imprisoning Josh Morrison for decades, and now her reign of terror was over.

Who cared, at this point, about curious fingerprints and mysterious liquor bottles? About construction records of the accident site. She didn't even need a weapon. She had everything she needed.

Except, Reilly realized - biting her nails as she tried Chris and Kennedy’s numbers again, to no avail - a detective.