Aftermath (8 page)

T
he following morning
, Reilly pulled into the GFU, rolling her eyes at the presence of media there now too.

Hardly the crime of the century, she thought to herself. It wasn't even a homicide for Chrissakes.

Gathering her things, she quickly made her way upstairs to the lab, but was joined in the elevator by none other than Inspector O’Brien. Her boss’s sudden appearance in the building was so startling, she dropped her case.

A hard-lined man with salt and pepper hair and shrewd eyes, the chief quickly helped her gather her things and apologized.

"I was hoping for a word," he said.

"Of course, sir. What is it?"

Getting out of the lift, he walked along with her towards her office. "I know that your team will be - as always - turning over every stone."

“Goes without saying."

“But there's a lot at stake here as I’m sure you know. I really want you to pull out all the stops. The world is watching."

"I know," she said barely suppressing a sigh.

"The headlines, you've seen them? They’re making us sound inept, provincial even. We can't have that, can we?"

"Of course not," she said.

"So we'll see some progress soon then? Glad to hear it.”

Reaching Reilly’s office, he gruffly patted her on the back and continued back to the lift. He’d come here specifically to see her then… She gulped.

Then as a parting shot he added, "Oh, and Steel?"

"Yes?"

"I have a press conference later this morning at eleven. I hope you and the detectives can deliver a preliminary report before then. Need some time to prepare, you understand."

She nodded, but couldn't say anything. Instead, she watched him go back into the elevator and toddle off back to headquarters. A place where he didn't have to do anything except wait for the GFU to make him look good.

A report by eleven?

Let’s hope the chief believed in miracles.

S
he shook it off
, heading straight to the lab, where she found Julius looking over her assessment of the victim's lacerations.

"Morning," she said, noticing that he had those horrifying pictures of Josh Morrison’s knife wounds cast about on the workstation. He was viewing them with a magnifying glass, double-checking and cross-referencing.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked.

“Probably not the wife anyway,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate.

“How so?” she challenged shortly, still a little rattled by her run in with the chief.

“Firstly, we’re surmising that the initial incised wound occurred from behind, which I’d agree with.”

“You’re absolutely sure?"

“Yes, because the edges of that laceration are straight, clean and comparatively shallow,” he said, pointing at the photo of the incised wound on Josh Morrison’s shoulder. “Whereas the edges of the other deeper injury - the one to the stomach - looks torn and irregular.”

She nodded, "So the blade was damaged a little upon first striking harder tissue on the victim’s shoulder.”

“Possibly the scapula."

“OK, so it seems we’re right about the perp coming up from behind, probably while the victim was making tea.”

“Yes, and based on the margins and angles I’m seeing here, particularly on the frontal wound to the stomach, the perp would need to have been about the same height as the victim, give or take a few inches. The blade went in at a straight trajectory, no upward or downward angle, and the slash to the shoulder blade again went from top to bottom.”

“So you’re saying it’s unlikely that someone of Annabel Morrison’s height and stature could have inflicted these injuries. Not even in high heels?”

Julius gave her a sideways look. “There are other factors too, such as the depth of the blade and ferocity of the thrust, and trajectory of withdrawal. Also the position of the defensive wounds help calculate an overall picture of the attacker’s approximate height and weight. Impossible to be absolutely certain of course.”

Reilly nodded. “OK. Let’s try that scenario on iSPI, see how it plays out."

Taking out the 3D reconstruction tablet, she set it on the counter and Julius plugged in the relevant data so that the app could reconstruct the scenario.

It took a few minutes but the software finally clicked into place.

Already programmed in were the dimensions of the crime scene, approximate distance between markers, and the relevant blood spatter based on their initial findings, along with the countless other variables that made iSPI such a helpful little piece of technology.

“If we’re right, the blood spill should concur with what we’re thinking," Julius said, looking on.

"Okay, so let's start there—we can assume Josh was standing somewhere on this side of the island, filling the kettle and setting it on the hob maybe. Then, perp comes up from behind …”

Julius nodded.

She moved across to Lucy's workstation, where the younger girl was busy analyzing blood pattern.

“You're looking at blood spill?"

"Yeah, a little tricky. Sharp force wounds, so it's not like the blood will splatter—not a lot of arterial spray from the first one. But still, it's coming along."

Julius came up from behind, iSPI still in hand.

He entered Lucy’s information along with the wound stats, and reloaded the program, and when the new scenario loaded, he added some contrast to better make out the blood patterns.

"What's that?" Lucy asked, but they were all thinking it.

iSPI was displaying barely visible impressions amongst the blood spill on the inside of the kitchen island.

“I think I know.”

They followed Julius to another part of the lab and moving a table aside, he rolled out some plastic.

"Can you grab some mix?"

Lucy took a bag of simulated blood from the below-counter fridge and handed it to him. Carefully checking the crime scene photos, he scattered some of the liquid in an approximate pattern on the plastic.

"Look about right?"

Reilly nodded.

Julius knelt down, knees pressing onto either side of the blood. Then he stood up, having completely ruined his clothes.

“Of course. So the victim gets slashed on his right shoulder, maybe staggers a little, then falls to his knees. Perp tried to straddle him? Maybe tried to go for the throat?”

“But Josh pushes him off, turns round and goes to grab the knife - which is where he gets the defensive wounds. They struggle on the other side of the island for a bit, before the burglar goes in for the kill, stabs him in the stomach and Josh collapses back onto the glass table, smashing it and everything on it, before bleeding out amongst the glass.”

Reilly’s eyes widened. “Sound like one angry burglar.”

“Then the wife comes home minutes - seconds - later?” continued Lucy, “Spooks the doer and calls in it. Just in time too.”

She stood still for a moment as the narrative began to unfold in her mind. Josh Morrison was viciously attacked--likely from behind while he prepared to make himself a pot of tea. He tried to fight off his attacker at first, but was eventually overpowered and brutally stabbed.

And the strength of that attack...

No, Reilly decided once and for all. Annabel Morrison could not have done this.

Such a struggle would surely have shown itself on her person, and when Reilly had talked to her yesterday, there were no scratches or nicks on the woman’s arms and hands - even her nails had been flawless.

“OK, so working with that narrative, let’s take a closer look at prints, trace, anything in that kitchen that doesn't belong. You have the first responder info for elimination?”

Lucy nodded. “Sent through last night. And a couple of early reports from the detectives too, along with Annabel Morrison’s official statement.”

Statement? If you could even call it that, Reilly thought remembering. Despite the new findings in relation to Morrison’s attacker, she wondered again why the wife had seemed so reluctant to answer questions without her solicitor, and hoped the detectives were following up regardless.

Why would any woman who’d happened across her husband at the centre of the scenario they’d just described, hesitate for even a second about helping them?

L
ater that morning
, the investigative team met up to compare notes and cobble together a preliminary report in time for O’Brien’s all-important press conference.

“We’ve interviewed Josh’s business associates and staff, Annabel’s TV colleagues as well as the family’s weekly cleaner and landscaping company," said Chris. “We’ll send over the transcripts later."

"You're talking about the interviews, but you aren't talking about suspects. O’Brien won’t like that.”

"Or motive - unfortunately,” he said. “I think we need to just focus on the notion that the attack on Morrison was indeed just a robbery gone wrong."

Reilly snorted and then grew serious as she realized he wasn't joking. “What? No intruder alarm, or physical evidence of any such break-in, never mind that there was nothing stolen. And that whole thing with wiping the phone messages?"

“We need more from you then," he said tersely. “The DPP is already down my throat fighting for space with O’Brien. I just got a voicemail from Phoenix Park. We were a headline on the
The Journal
this morning. Do you know what it said? NO TRY. Big picture of Kennedy smoking outside the house, and a series of articles about how we’re scratching our arses and don't know what the hell we're doing.”

“I don’t get it …”

Kennedy who looked suitably shame-faced, went on to explain to Reilly that the headline was a pun on a term for a rugby score.

Way over her head…

"Lab results should be back later, maybe something will turn up in the trace. Also Rory is still going over Morrison’s phone.”

“Weird that his messages were deleted. Wonder if that happened before or after the attack?”

“No way to know unless we can establish a firm timeline."

The lab was calling, so she quickly picked up. It was Gary.

“Got a partial for Marlboro man.”

“Seriously? That’s great news.”

“Running it now, will let you know if anything comes back.”

“If you could make it happen before O’Brien’s press conference I’d love you forever.”

“Try my best but you know as well as I do how long these things can take.”

Hanging up, she filled the detectives in. “Gary got a partial from a cigarette butt in the garden.”

Kennedy frowned. "Seems a bit reckless. I’m off to rob this gaff, but first let me finish this fag?"

"Unless you weren't planning on hurting someone when you went in there--and in the aftermath you'd forgotten the fact you had a cigarette earlier,” she pointed out.

"Or, you're just a sociopath," Kennedy bantered. "Don't forget the random element."

"You don't forget the random element, I'll keep working on the evidence."

"Deal," he said with a half-grin, before getting up to use the men’s room. When he was gone, Chris paused a little before turning to Reilly.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about being swayed by Annabel Morrison’s celebrity, and honestly, that wasn't it. Yes, she’s famous and on TV and puts on this perfect face for her show and the media. Everyone always talks about how elegant and poised she is. And seeing her like that, so vulnerable, I think it caught me off guard a little.”

Ever the knight in shining armour.

“
I don’t get it. I don’t adore anyone unless they’ve proven they’re worth adoring.”

“Must be where I’m going wrong then,” he said and she smiled.

He shrugged. "I'll tell you one thing for sure though, burglar or not, we’re going to find the bastard, make sure that woman and her family are safe."

“You got your white horse parked out front now, too?”

"Just for once, I'd love to see you without cynicism."

She winked at him. "You'll be waiting a while.”

"
W
ell one thing's
for sure," Gary informed Reilly later, without looking up from the microscope. "Josh Morrison and Annabel Morrison were definitely in the kitchen."

"Very funny," she said.

"I'm not joking. Eliminating first responders, I don't have anything else -
anyone
else. All the prints checked out. And if the guy was intent on robbing the place, chances are he was wearing gloves.”

Reilly bit her lip. “Call the hospital, see if they can expedite sending over Josh’s clothes,” she told him. “If we're going to find the perp, we have to hope he cut himself during the struggle."

Next, she continued on to Rory’s workstation.

"You get anything off that phone yet?"

He nodded and wiggled an iPhone at her.

"Yep, phone messages were indeed wiped. Time stamp is all I can get," he said, when she looked underwhelmed. “It’s an iPhone, unfortunately. Nothing is recoverable."

"How'd you get the time stamp then?"

"Stored on Apple's systems, that's all. Can't get anything from the phone itself, it's a brick.”

Reilly went back to her office and sat for a while, thinking over the findings so far.

The question remained, why - if this was a simple robbery gone bad - would the attacker go to the trouble of deleting Josh Morrison’s phone messages? Of course, until they could ascertain the exact time of the attack, there was no way of knowing when the tampering had occurred.

Had Morrison heard the robbery in progress and deleted his own messages before going to check it out? That was a scenario she couldn't quite wrap her head around, unless there was some very valuable data - personal financials or confidential company information - on the device.

Unless Josh had deleted the info because he knew his attacker?

But then how did this tie into his being attacked while he made tea. Unless - and this again tied into the perp being known to him - unless he was making tea for someone who took the opportunity to lash out while his back was turned?

That was an interesting theory and one that made more sense to Reilly than the robbery in progress one, to be honest.

But the fact remained that they had yet to isolate a print or some piece of trace putting someone other than Josh or Annabel Morrison in the kitchen that night.

Next, she went through the crime scene photos and took out the ones of the sliding glass door from the kitchen and onto the patio.

It definitely looked to have been forced open from the inside. Yet Annabel Morrison mentioned yesterday that the intruder had ‘slipped away’ out of the corner of her eye. You’d think she’d remember someone forcing the door open to escape, but if she was tending to her husband, her back would have been to the patio doors, and her attention obviously elsewhere….

The fact that the track was off had seemed suspicious to Reilly at the time because she was trying to ascertain whether or not the perp came in from the garden. But now it looked more like the door was forced open from the
inside
.

Only one reason for that; the perp was trying to leave and couldn't get it open in his haste? Maybe put his shoulder against it and knocked it off the track. Then he’d jumped the perimeter wall and escaped back onto the street via the lane way before vanishing into the night.

No prints to be had from the sliding door unfortunately, but like Gary had pointed out earlier, if the guy was intent on robbing the Morrison place, chances were he was wearing gloves, so it was unlikely they’d happen across his prints in the usual places.

As always, during this stage of an investigation, nothing seemed to be adding up. Like with all crime scenes, there was a story in here--a narrative.

But the team hadn't yet uncovered all of the pieces, so they couldn't attempt to put them together.