A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I just have to say, wow, really hard to kill off a character - even a relatively minor one like Lucia - it's surprising how attached you get to them! Kudos to slasher-flick writers - although I guess they always intend their characters to be expendable!


TWENTY-NINE.

Head bowed, Rob sat in silence at the table, his gaze focused on the contents of the polystyrene cup he was toying with – the once steaming cup of coffee now cool but still untouched. Across from him sat two detectives, their poker faces well in place. Not that he cared what they were thinking anyway.

"Mr Allen … Rob … I appreciate this is difficult, but if we could go over this one more time – just so we can be sure of the facts. In your own time."

"I've already told you everything I know." he said, no trace of annoyance in his voice. Just stating the facts.

"Humour me."

"I went to Lucia's, got into the building as someone came out, her door was unlocked …" he began easily enough, but faltered as he got to the harder part. The part still seared on his brain and yet somehow incomprehensible. "I went inside. It was dark. And empty. The only place left to check was the bedroom. I turned on the light … Lucia … She was on the bed. I knew right away …"

Not letting him dwell too long, one of the detectives offered him a cigarette while the other regarded him with a searching look.

"Why'd you go there, Rob?"

"I told you, we'd had a disagreement – I wanted to put things right."

"You two argue a lot?"

"Yes, but not like you're thinking. If you knew Luce …"

"Feisty, huh? She get under your skin, Rob? Know how to push your buttons?"

"I didn't hurt her if that's what you mean."

"So you didn't argue with her there in the apartment? Things didn't get heated, out of hand?"

"No. The last time I saw her alive was at the office – we never got the chance to … to …"

Seeing him ready to crumble and not in a way that would get them anywhere, the second detective took over quickly, wanting to keep the process going.

"Okay, Rob, take it easy. Tell us about from when you got to the apartment block until you called us – you see anyone suspicious? Anyone who stood out?"

"Not that I can think of."

"The only person you mentioned earlier was whoever was coming out of the building as you went in – the person who held the door open for you. Can you describe that person?"

"I wasn't paying attention – I had no reason to. And I was pretty much concentrating on what I was going to say to Lucia …"

"Think, Rob, it could be important – tall or short? Male or female? Fat or thin? Did they say anything? Have an accent? What were they wearing?"

"I … I don't know. Must have been average height and build – I guess it would make sense I'd have remembered more if there was anything distinct about the person … And I wouldn't swear to it, but I think female … maybe. Dark clothes." Rob said, racking his brain.

"Okay. Rob, there was a phone in the bedroom but you didn't use it to call us – why?"

"I couldn't stay in that room." he said flatly, "I knew it was too late for … for an ambulance so there was no rush for that reason. I couldn't see her like that so I went outside the apartment door and called you from my cell."

"And there was no one around? No neighbours who might have heard something, no one wanting to know what was going on?"

"No one."

"The hardest part now, Rob, but we need to ask – can you tell us about actually finding Lucia?"

He'd cooperated fully with the inquiries, but now it was really getting to him and he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself and focus on doing anything he could to help find whoever was responsible.

"She was … lying on the bed. Face up. There was a lot of blood. Her eyes … Her eyes were open – I had to get out."

The detectives exchanged a glance and an almost imperceptible nod, letting the silence hand heavy in the air for a long moment before the elder of the two men stood up.

"Did you kill her, Rob?"

The question came so casually that, at first, he wasn't even sure he'd heard right.

"What? Are you serious? No, of course not. Come on, no!"

"Maybe you didn't mean to – maybe things did just get out of hand …?"

"I said no! I'd never hurt Lucia – I love her! I love her …" Rob insisted, his voice cracking over the words as he finally broke down.

"Interview terminated zero-two-hundred hours."


"How is she?" Portman asked softly, as he and Fulton stood across the room from where Caitlin sat, both of them watching her in concern.

"I think she's in shock." her fiancé replied, "I feel so fucking useless …"

"Hey, she knows you're here for her, dude. There ain't nothing else you can do. Go on, I'll let you get back to her – just holler if you guys need anything."

"Thanks, bro." Fulton said gratefully, his attention quickly turning back to the devastated young woman on the couch as he went to join her, understanding her anguish but hating to see her so obviously hurting.

"I'm sorry." Caitlin whispered, twisting her engagement ring distractedly as he sat down beside her.

"What? What for?"

"This is supposed to be a happy day …" she managed, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back.

"Oh honey …" he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "You don't have to worry about that right now. Listen, I know sleep is probably the last thing on your mind, but it's really late and you look exhausted – what do you say we go upstairs and you at least have a lie down? I promise, first thing in the morning, we'll call Dan and see if there's any news. You won't do any good by making yourself ill, Cait …"

Knowing he was only looking out for her, Caitlin nodded unenthusiastically, letting him help her up and take her hand to lead her upstairs. And, in spite of her certainty that nothing but sleeplessness lay ahead for her, once she was under the covers, crying herself quietly to sleep didn't prove as difficult as she had imagined it would be.

It was a different story for Fulton though. Worried about how his fiancée was handling the sudden and unexpected loss of a close colleague who had been a mentor of sorts to her and with his mind going into overdrive over what might have happened and whether there was any continued risk, sleep was practically impossible. Instead, he simply curled a protective arm around Caitlin's waist as she lay with her back pressed against his chest, holding her close as she drifted off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion.


to be continued...