The following morning, Lilly had waited with as much patience as possible for their victim's mother to turn up at their office. Miss Jones stepped into the department at around nine exactly, her hair in loose waves.
As Lilly rose to meet her, the other woman smiled tentatively, "Detective Rush."
"Thank you for coming back in," the detective said evenly, gesturing towards the interview room. Miss Jones took a seat while Lilly closed the door.
"I want to help," she replied, "I want to know who killed my daughter."
The blonde sat in the other chair, nodding slowly. "I'm confused as to why Bobby Dillon would give a different name and address to the original detectives."
"I'm not sure what to tell you, detective. I don't know."
Lilly watched the woman carefully, trying to spot any sign of deception. To her frustration, there was nothing, only hurt honesty.
"Tell me about Bobby," she said eventually. Charlotte Jones shrugged, a sad, wistful smile appearing on her face.
"Bobby was good to me. That first meeting, the day after...I'd been at the police station all night. I desperately needed a drink, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Drink was the reason my daughter was dead."
Her eyes fixed on a point on the table.
"Bobby convinced me to keep going to meetings. Said that the police would never believe that I was innocent if I kept drinking. He was...kind. He never asked if I'd done it. Never doubted." She shook her head lightly. "Bobby kept me alive."
Lilly was silent for a moment. "Tell me about the night Katy died."
Miss Jones sighed, a sound so full of sorrow Lilly felt it settle deep inside her.
"I'd had a bad day at work. Needed something to take the edge off. I never meant to drink as much as I did." Tears filled her eyes. "Vodka. A bottle and a half on an empty stomach. I didn't even see Katy that night."
"What time did you get home?" Lilly asked.
"About six, I think. I don't remember exactly."
"What happened next?"
"I passed out on the bed upstairs. I never heard anything. I should have. I remember…waking up. Going downstairs. Katy was just…lying there, at the bottom of the stairs. The baseball bat was there too, and I…picked it up. I didn't realize. There was so much blood," Miss Jones continued in a choked voice.
"That's why your prints were on the murder weapon," Lilly stated. The other woman nodded.
"Katy always wore a gold necklace. My mother's. It wasn't there when she...she wasn't wearing it. I mentioned it in a meeting. Bobby gave it to me a few weeks ago. He said Katy had dropped it, and he found it, but had forgotten about it. It didn't occur to me then that he might be lying."
"What changed? Why bring this up now?"
"Bobby left," the other woman replied, "Without a word. Just after Detective Manich died. Something felt...wrong."
Lilly was about to ask another question, when there was a sharp knock on the glass. Sighing, she stood and said, "Excuse me."
Stillman waited for her in the observation room. "Nicky got something," he said. After a detour to grab an apple, Lilly perched on the edge of her desk.
"You got something?"
Vera nodded, handing her a file. "Bobby Dillon was born James Robert Walker. Adopted, aged four by the Dillon family."
Coming to stand beside her, Scotty handed his partner a fresh cup of coffee. He missed the stutter of her fingers as they glanced over his.
"So the mother was tellin' the truth," he said, "She didn't know James Walker, not exactly."
Lilly hummed doubtfully, "Are we certain we believe her? I mean, drunks will do anything for another drink."
Stillman peered over his glasses. "You think they were in it together?"
She didn't. Not really. Not all mothers were like hers. So she didn't say anything. Instead, she peered over her boss' shoulder.
"Where are Miller and Jeffries?"
Vera waved a hand in the air, "Chasin' a lead. Tryin' to find out where Dillon pulled that address from, the one he stuck on his character testimony."
"When they come back, we need to figure out where Dillon is. If Charlotte Jones is telling the truth, we might be able to place him at the crime scene."
Scotty sunk into his chair, tucking one outstretched ankle over the other. He blew out a long breath.
"Seems to me like Bobby Dillon has a helluva lot of explainin' to do."
With nothing to do except wait, Lilly was left with no choice but to let Miss Jones leave for a second time. By lunchtime, she felt like she had run head first into a brick wall. The case was going nowhere. By three in the afternoon, a pounding headache pressed at the fringes of her mind, her ears full of white noise and her eyes heavy with the consistent throbbing.
From the desk opposite, concerned dark eyes watched the color leak from her cheeks. Scotty said her name quietly, but got no response. He set down his pen as her fingers drifted to the scar on her shoulder, pressing gently. To soothe or distract, he wasn't sure.
"Lilly," he said again, louder. His partner startled, the sudden movement sending another wave of pain shooting through her. Scotty looked away as she winced, then said, "You take anythin'?"
At her blank look, he reached into his drawer to pull out some painkillers.
"For your head," he clarified. Lilly hesitated, then reached out to take them.
"It's just a headache."
Scotty snorted in disbelief, "That why you're rubbin' your scar?"
He found himself pinned by an icy glare, and with a frustrated shake of his head, grabbed his coffee cup and retreated to the break room. Lilly watched him go, almost following. But she remained seated, turning back to her computer screen.
Letting out a slow breath, she pushed a strand of hair out of her face and forced her aching eyes to focus. Bobby Dillon, born James Robert Walker. Met Miss Charlotte Jones, January 20th 2003. The day after Katy Jones was murdered. He had Katy's necklace.
Pressing a hand against her forehead, Lilly swallowed the painkillers, washing them down with the remains of her earlier coffee.
"Vera," she said. He looked over. "Are we certain Miss Jones had never met Bobby Dillon before?"
Her colleague shrugged, "You tell me. She seem like she's lyin'?"
Lilly sighed. "No, but what are the chances? For whatever reason, he ends up with Katy's necklace. Maybe he killed her, maybe he did just find it. But Charlotte Jones just happens to end up in his AA group? Come on."
Vera pursed his lips. "When you lay it out like that, does seem pretty thin. Though stranger things have happened."
Unable to shake the ill feeling in her stomach, Lilly watched as he stood to grab another file. Stranger things, she agreed privately. As Jeffries walked back into the department, she felt the iron fist of defeat unclench slightly at his smile.
"Lil, Nicky. Got something you might want to hear. Where's Scotty?"
"Here," he said, one finger loosening the knot of his tie, "What'd you find?"
"The address listed on the original report for James Robert Walker is real. It's a house in Fishtown. Owned by a Jim Walker, died a couple years back."
"Bobby Dillon's biological father," Lilly surmised. Jeffries nodded.
"Looks like. No sign of anyone living there now, or recently."
Scotty ran a tired hand over his face. "So where's he been? Why give the necklace back now?"
"If he had it in the first place," Lilly added, closing her eyes against the lights of the department. The painkillers had done a grand total of nothing against her headache.
"Why are you so convinced she had somethin' to do with it?" Scotty snapped. Her eyes flew open, flashing fiery blue.
"Why are you mad at me?" Lilly threw back. He stopped short at the change in subject.
"Valens, where are my jelly donuts?" Miller demanded, arriving in a flurry of cold air and dropping her coat onto her desk. Scotty tore his eyes away, grateful for the interruption.
"Top shelf o' the second cupboard. Hid 'em."
Vera's response was sharp and to the point. Miller grinned at him, oblivious to whatever it was she had interrupted, and said, "I always knew you were smart, Valens."
"Yeah," he muttered, glancing at Lilly, "Real smart."
A/N Sorry for the delay - I had a busy summer. Thanks for all the kind words so far.