TRACE - CSI Reilly Steel #5 (Forensic novel Police Procedural Series) (21 page)

Chapter 38

That evening Jack Gorman had dinner with his daughter at her favorite restaurant.

‘I see the city’s diners feel safe with high cuisine once more,’ he said, eyeing the bustling restaurant warily.

‘I don’t know if they ever stopped,’ said Lucy. ‘I think most people were more intrigued with the idea of a murderous chef. It added a little bit of risk to their meal. Brought a little edge to their mundane lives.’

‘Do you really think people’s lives are mundane?’ asked Jack.

‘I think people think they are,’ said Lucy. ‘And then something terrible happens to them and they wish it could all go back to the way it was, boring or not.’

‘Is that how you feel?’

‘I feel like people should realise how lucky they are,’ she said. ‘I feel like boring is fine.’

They ordered and toasted Grace’s memory quietly, over glasses of merlot.

‘I often wonder what kind of woman she would have turned into,’ said Jack. ‘Sometimes I look at you, and I see her, but that’s not fair. You’re you, and I’m glad of it. Grace would have been someone else entirely.’

‘Sometimes I feel guilty that I’ve had all the things we talked about when we were young: a career, travel, and maybe one day love and children.’

‘I feel sure of it,’ said Jack.

‘I guess I can’t feel guilty forever,’ she said. ‘I owe it to Grace to live the kind of life that she would be proud of.’

It was nice to spend this time with her father alone. Lucy loved her mother but she spent far more time with her than Jack, despite the fact that they worked in the same unit.

‘Did you really hate me getting into this line of work?’ she asked now.

Jack smiled. ‘I suppose it was inevitable,’ he said. ‘I probably saw it coming too. You were so interested in my work, and so observant and tenacious. You had all the right qualities. I would have wanted to protect you from the kind of thing that this work involves,’ he said. ‘But I was too late for that. You wanted to be in the thick of it, and who was I to stop you?’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for supporting me.’

They talked of lighter things for the rest of the meal, which was delicious. ‘We should do this more often,’ said Jack.

Afterwards he walked her to her car in the fading light.

‘Are you afraid of what we might find tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘And maybe worst of all, I’m afraid that we might find nothing. That all this would have been for naught and we have to go back to that uncertainty and fear once more. I want this to be over, Lucy. It’s been so long, and I want us to move on with our lives.’

On the way home Lucy reflected that she wanted that as well. She wanted to be able to fall in love without feeling guilty that her sister never would.

But she supposed that would never happen. Some things you just had to live with, after all.

It was Reilly’s first outing with the running group. As a rule, she preferred to train alone, but these people seemed perfectly nice. Very eager and passionate about running. After about ten minutes of standing around talking about technique, she thought: let’s just do it already. Talking about it won’t get us anywhere.

Finally they started out along the sheltered paths of the Phoenix Park. She stayed at the rear of the pack so that she had a chance to observe everyone. There were a couple of old-timers, her father’s age, who still ran with the steady, even pace that they had been using for decades. There were a few women who were returning to running after having children. She supposed that she might soon be one of them. There was a handsome guy, around forty who ran with a younger, attractive woman. This could be the guy from Rory’s report she wanted to check on. But there was also another man, around thirty, who ran alone. It could be him either.

The thing was, it could be any of them. She wondered if she was just wasting her time here. They had their guy, didn’t they? Nico Peroni was firmly behind bars. Still not talking, but the evidence against him was strong.

Reilly supposed she was doing this because she didn’t like to leave anything undone in an investigation. She didn’t like loose ends. At the beginning, they had focused very hard on the online dating angle, yet that hadn’t panned out. It might still tell them something. She just wanted to be sure.

They ran for about an hour, and Reilly tried to clear her mind of all the distractions of the past couple of months. When Chris’s face, or Todd’s, floated into her thoughts, she let them go by without concentrating on them. She tried especially not to think of tomorrow, when they would be going over the O’Toole house again, this time surer about who had lived there in the years since Martin O’Toole’s death, and that the ‘Clive Farrell’ who had been signing the pensioner’s social welfare cheques was in fact his nephew, Brendan Keating.

She had a feeling it would be a hard, emotional day. For Lucy and Jack Gorman especially of course, but for her as well. The thoughts of her own lost family never got less raw, never went away. She supposed that they never would. It was just something she carried around with her. She did wish that she could protect Lucy from all of it, though. But her colleague too, would have to face the difficulties of her life.

When the run finished they all clustered around and made their farewells. The red-headed girl called: ‘See you Saturday week,’ to the handsome older man. He had good form, Reilly had noted. She wondered if he was the guy with the bogus accounts.

‘And will you be back next time?’ he asked Reilly suddenly.

‘Sure,’ she said, flashing a smile. ‘I’m a little out of shape.’

He didn’t answer in the way she expected, just smiled and said: ‘You run well.’ And then he swung a backpack onto his back and ran off into the dark night.

This cannot be happening. This is unequivocally not happening. I have not come this far to be stopped at the last minute. The dinner with Constance is only days away, and the cop will not get in my way.

Why is she even here? How could she possibly have tracked me here, of all places? I would expect her to turn up to the restaurant, yes, but not at my group. Perhaps it is simply a terrible coincidence. Could that happen? Could we both, by chance, just have stumbled across the same group? It seems too good to be true.

What is certain is that her presence, lurking behind us like a portent of doom, ruined my whole run with Constance this evening. I have come to look forward to our little catch-ups. They are like appetizers before the main course. But I couldn’t concentrate with
her
there. Couldn’t admire the alabaster of Constance’s skin, or the glint of her ponytail. I could smell her vanilla scent floating on the breeze and her mint toothpaste on her breath but I couldn’t savor any of it.

Relax, I tell myself. It’s fine. She might be here, but she doesn’t know who you are yet. She has never met you. But you know who
she
is. That’s my advantage just now, that she has no idea who I am, while I can delve into her life and find out all about her.

There is nothing else for it: I must stay one step ahead.

Chapter 39

The next day dawned bright and clear, but crisp. Reilly headed straight out to the O’Toole house and Gary met her here.

‘Lucy really wants to be here,’ he said.

‘I know,’ said Reilly. ‘But I just really don’t think it’s a good idea. Not after last time and especially with those two here.’

She indicated the dark green car which had just pulled up, out of which two plainclothes detectives climbed. They both wore glasses and held coffee cups. The so-called task force.

‘Tweedledee and Tweedledum,’ Gary mumbled.

Reilly suppressed a smile as she waved to the approaching cops. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘This is my assisting CSU tech, Gary.’

They shook hands and introduced themselves, but they clearly weren’t happy to be there. ‘Haven’t we been over this before?’ said one Tom Brogan.

‘You’re overstepping your mark a little here,’ said the other. ‘Without Gorman’s involvement in this, there’s no way you would be able to just walk all over it. Anyway, we’ve been over this a thousand times, that house is a dead end; there’s nothing more to find. ’

Reilly felt anger building inside her and she had to fight to control. How would these two feel if it was their daughter, their sister, who had been missing for almost two decades, and not just some anonymous girl? Would they show a bit of dedication then?

‘I know you’ve been over it,’ said Reilly. ‘And so have we. But we’ve come by some new information recently that makes this property more important to us than ever.’

‘Grand,’ said one of the detectives. ‘Well, don’t mind us while we try to do our jobs or anything.’

‘Maybe if you actually did them,’ Gary said, ‘we wouldn’t have to.’

And that basically set the mood for the day. Antagonistic and snarky. Reilly sighed. It was going to be a long one.

‘I just think that something’s off,’ said Kennedy.

‘The sausages you mean?’ asked Chris. They were grabbing a bite at a place near the station which Chris liked because they did a good Thai noodles and Kennedy liked because they did sausages and mash. It was win-win.

His partner groaned. ‘Hilarious,’ he deadpanned. ‘No this Peroni thing just doesn’t feel right to me.’

‘We’ve charged the man with multiple counts of murder, Kennedy. That’s a fairly major thing to be having second thoughts about. You wanted to go for the guy, too.’

‘I know I did. But it happens a lot doesn't it? You’re under pressure to find the right man, so you’re quick to arrest the one that fits. People don’t understand, but detective work can be like trial and error, just like anything else.’

‘I know that,’ said Chris. ‘I’m not saying we don’t make mistakes either, but - ’

‘But when we do, we’re man enough to admit it.’

‘Or woman enough.’

‘Jeez,’ said Kennedy. ‘Don’t start with that political correctness stuff now. I’m not saying this fella is completely innocent, but I have my doubts. I’d just like to try a few things.’

Chris took a forkful of food, then asked: ‘Like what?’ He was almost afraid of the answer.

‘I want to do a lie detector test,’ said Kennedy.

Chris groaned. ‘No way. You know those things are unreliable, Kennedy. They’re a complete pseudoscience. Half the time people are so nervous they give a false positive, anyway.’

Kennedy grinned and pointed his fork at Chris. ‘You know that, and I know that. But the average joe doesn’t. And I’ll tell you something else as well, for free — half the people who take lie detector tests give in and confess anyway. And do you know why? Because it’s more honorable to just tell the truth than to have some machine prove you’re a liar. Even if it doesn’t really.’ His argument was becoming a bit confused. ‘Ah feck it, Chris, humor me, will you. Let’s just give it a try. I have a feeling, if we set the thing up, just go through the motions even, that Peroni will break.’

‘It’s O’Brien you need to humour.’ Chris pointed out. But Kennedy was a good cop who only rocked the boat if he really felt strongly about it. If they got an out and out confession, maybe it was worth considering.

Gary and Reilly spent much of the day going over the house, while the task force stood outside talking on their phones, or came in and mocked their efforts.

‘Yeah, we did that already,’ said one, as Gary tapped on the walls to see if there was anything else hidden behind them.

‘Yeah, but of course he can do it better,’ said the other one.

Reilly was glad that Gary gritted his teeth, put his head down and just got to work. She didn’t know why there was such a treacherous relationship between detectives and forensics, but there so often was. It was detectives who had given her the most crap at the start of her career in the States too. For being a woman, for being blonde, you name it. They either tried to protect her, or rile her, and Reilly didn’t appreciate either.

The O’Toole house had been completely cleared of everything by now, but it still retained its creepy atmosphere. She had known that something bad had happened there the first time she came here, and she knew it now. Even without the old blood stains that they had found upstairs the last time, she would have known it.

But being in the house again wasn’t giving them anything new. For hours they went over it, top to bottom. They picked up some further trace, hair and fingerprints but there were also beer bottles smashed in the living room. Kids had obviously been here, and they were mucking up any additional evidence related to the house’s previous occupants that they might find.

At four P.M., she looked at Gary and said: ‘I think we’d better call it a day. There’s nothing more here.’

He looked frustrated. ‘Just a bit longer. I know something’s here. Let me just pull the carpet up.’

She yielded because she knew this meant a lot to him, and also because she didn’t want to go back to Jack and Lucy with nothing. But pulling up the carpet gave them nothing but a few grazes. They’d already done that first time round and the floor underneath had no openings. It was just smooth, cold concrete.

But it gave her an idea. ‘Wait a second,’ she said. ‘This place doesn’t have a backyard, does it?’

‘No, it’s standalone.’

‘But there’s a new development next door,’ Relatively new at least. Though eighteen years ago, when Grace Gorman first went missing, the land next to it would have been empty.

A look of understanding swept over Gary’s face. ‘Reilly. That’s a huge job.’

She nodded, and went to look out at the newer development, which stretched as far as the eye could see. ‘You’re telling me.’

It was one thing for to request a search for a single house, but quite another to look for a warrant to want to poke around in the backyards of other people’s houses.

‘Reilly, that’s impossible,’ said Jack. ‘If you think you’re onto something, and God knows I want this more than anyone, but I just don’t see how it can be done. We can’t ask O’Brien to get a warrant to go digging up the whole estate.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know that. But maybe just a few nearby? Maybe just to see if there’s any sign.’

‘If there is … something,’ said Jack, ‘then it could be anywhere. We’re talking about thousands of square meters. If it could be narrowed down…maybe. But as it is, we don’t stand a chance. I’m sorry, Reilly,’ he said softly. ‘But if I can see the impossibility, then surely you can, too.’

He was right, she could. But she was so close, she could feel it. Maybe if she could just be a little more specific…but how? There was no way of knowing where the body was, if indeed there was one.