My dear readers, I know it has taken me ages to update. I was suddenly hired for twice as many hours as I used to work and my life stopped. I'm just now beginning to get the hang of things again. Hopefully my next update won't take so long. Thanks for the patient wait!

Chapter 13

"So what's the scoop?" Scotty asked, carefully attentive to Lilly's face as she hung up the phone. She sure was expressive—even when she tried her best to be expressionless.

"They're not talking, either of them," Lilly replied, a trace of worn-out bitterness in her tone. "Vera and Jeffries are bringing them in, making them think we have a warrant for Regan's arrest. Truth is, we just have a warrant for her DNA."

"Once they get here we can make'em talk." Scotty's discourse was full of bravado. Way more than he felt.

"They're both basket cases, according to Vera. Girl wouldn't stop crying and the aunt kept insulting her. He and Jeffries had to practically pry her off." Rolling her eyes, she added, sarcastically, "Star witnesses, those two. We may need a hypnotist just to get Regan's dismembered personalities in line."

Scotty knew it was the wrong time but he couldn't help himself. "How about a strait jacket for the aunt?"

Lilly donned a withering attitude. "I'm serious. And look into their phone records, will you, Valens? See if we can hunt down Sarah Bryant through them."

"Sure thing, boss," Scotty retorted, not really meaning for it to come out as snooty as it did. It was Stillman's warning glare that tipped him off.

"Sounds good to me," the real boss said in a pacifying way to Lilly, as Scotty sheepishly backed off. "I'm going down to the DA's office. You two get something done, will you? And no squabbling."

No sooner had he gone than Lilly engrossed herself in Erica Bailey's file, her head bent at such an angle Scotty wondered how her neck made it through the day. Strange thoughts had been hovering in his mind since that night, the fateful night of the phone invasion. To him, it had been a sort of wake-up call, making him acutely aware of Lilly's fragility—something he'd never really given thought to before. Not since the very beginning—before he'd had a chance to see her in action. She was always so tough and brave, never needing anything from anybody, he'd forgotten how physically vulnerable she really was. Now, appraising her, he was disturbingly conscious of her narrow shoulders and meager build. One well-aimed punch could send her sailing to the ground, one yank would easily bend her wrists back till they snapped. Her fists were about half the size of his, for God's sake. How was she supposed to defend herself? Hardly a tranquilizing thought, considering the situation they were in.

He lingered in her vicinity, feeling the urge to introduce the bristly subject of their truce and not knowing how in hell's name to go about it. She might be a secretive gal, but he was a stand-up guy, and when words needed to be said, he said them. Their ceasefire had been working decently since yesterday, but today things had been teetering a little, and they should get some things straight now before everything got skewed again.

Uncannily he glanced up to find two piercing blue eyes trained defensively on his own.

"Yeah. What?" was the encouraging observation.

For a moment his resolve wavered. Don't chicken out, Valens. "I was just thinking—" He slammed his knee against the edge of her desk and pain exploded in his leg, clouding his mind for an instant. Fuck damn! When he looked up again, there was the tiniest hint of smile on Lilly's face—one that just as quickly faded away. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. "We're gonna have to find some way to make this work, Lil."

There was a short pause, during which Lilly's face was really inscrutable. She jerked up off her chair, and for a moment Scotty almost recoiled—was she about to resort to physical violence?

"I know," she owned, in an unexpectedly calm tone of voice. "I think we can manage it."

Scotty stared at her. Somehow he'd been expecting more of a fight. Damn the girl was unpredictable! The words 'I'm sorry' ached to roll off his tongue once again, but his mind readily shut them off. Why should he apologize? Leave well enough alone, Valens. "Well… okay then," he reposted awkwardly.

"Okay," repeated Lilly, just as awkwardly. Scotty had already turned away toward his computer when she added, stiffly, "By the way… thanks for that. You know—calling Stillman and all."

Scotty was stunned. Considering his alarm had resulted in someone being posted at Lilly's house—an unforgivable intrusion of her beloved privacy—gratitude was the last thing he'd been expecting. "Sure, no problem," he mumbled in awe.

It was a bittersweet triumph.

Lilly felt she had been poring over those old files for ages. Her eyes stung from scanning paper after paper, report after report. Aaron Bailey sure had put a lot into his wife's search until that letter turned up. Didn't make sense for him to have done away with her himself. Why be so cooperative and risk getting found out?

Unless he was absolutely certain he never would be.

On the other hand, aside from his druggie son's disjointed account of the blood incident, nothing else pointed to him. Except, of course, for the fact he was next of kin. And he had motive.

Speaking of next of kin… where was the rest of her family?

She managed to track down mother and father, both deceased. There was a sister in the background living in California. A quick conversation with Aaron Bailey informed her those two hadn't spoken since their marriage.

"She thought I was a worthless piece of crap," he bluntly offered. "I didn't really care to have them associate afterwards. Now I wonder why I bothered."

Hmm, siblings not speaking sounds familiar.

And now what was up with Scotty's sudden uncalled-for chattiness? He kept interrupting her. And shooting her these earth-shattering glances… had he gotten it into his male egotistical head she was head-over-heels for him again? But she had to admit a part of her was glad they'd made their peace at last and sealed it with words. It had been uncomfortable not knowing where their situation stood. And as for digging through her past—well, sure it had hurt. But it was time to get over it already. After all, he'd done plenty afterwards to make up for this one mistake. She guessed she'd learn to live with him dating Christina…

Just the recollection of her dear innocent derailed sister, all warm fluff and curls, made her heart lurch uncomfortably. No, don't wanna go there. Chris meant Patrick, family, her past—all things she really didn't want to remember. Things she had tried to stay away from, all these years. Keeping a tight lid on them, doing her best to put them behind her, reconstruct her life. And now, just by showing up, that sweet little trainwreck of a sister had upset everything.

As she always did.

It wasn't really Valens's fault. He'd find out himself soon enough just how unreliable she could be. Lilly couldn't prevent a grim sort of pleasure thinking of what he'd brought upon himself—but then, remembering Elisa's fate, she felt rotten. She had no business being happy over the heartbreak he'd be sure to suffer at Chris's side.

That stupid girl. Why couldn't she just get herself out of here and leave things as they were? Always getting her grubby little hands on her stuff. Her people. No respect for privacy or property whatsoever.

All these gloomy thoughts crowded her head till she couldn't stand it anymore. One more minute at that desk and she'd be sure to burst.

Scotty jumped at the sound of her chair being thrusted violently back, a question in his eye.

"Going out," Lilly announced flatly. "Lunch."

"Sure thing," came the bland answer. "Knock yourself out."

The case was still fresh in her mind as she made her turbulent way down the hall and out of police headquarters. It was all such a mess of tangled-up hypotheses and clues. While it seemed clear as day Sarah Bryant had been the one to deliver Regan O'Donohue's twins with Swanson's forceps, the evidence was all circumstantial—all but that fingerprint. Now if they got Regan to confess it would be another story. But who knew if they'd be able to get anything from that girl—if she was as disturbed as Vera said she was?

And then there was Erica Bailey's plight. No clues on that end. And the prick who was threatening her—who was he? She had a sort of inkling it must be a woman, in spite of what the boys assured her. A woman leading them astray, and doing a clever job of it, too. Phone threats simply weren't consistent with a male MO. Men were more into actions, he would've carried on his threat by now. Women were the masterminds with the ideas.

Maybe it's Erica Bailey. Maybe she's alive and doesn't want to be found out. In that case, she must be closer than we think.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time the doer was under their very noses. Take George, for instance…

The mere thought of him made Lilly's flesh crawl. She had known, by the way he'd barefacedly aired the boys' dirty laundry during initial interrogations, he was the very worst type of psychopath. The sadistic kind, who preyed on people's pain and suffering, who'd pull the dirtiest thing he had on her, given the chance. But for some reason she naïvely never expected him to turn to her 49.

"Maybe we'll go hunting together someday, you and me," he'd said.

Like hell we will, Lilly vowed, shuddering. I'll shoot you before I let you get anywhere near me, you perverted son of a bitch. For the victims if not for anyone else.

The sun was mild enough for her to remove her scarf. There he was—her favorite hot dog vendor. Talk about a welcome sight for sore eyes. She was really craving a good juicy warm Philadelphia hotdog; nothing like junk food to put a girl to rights.

"Howya doin' today, Miss Lilly?" the vendor hailed her, with an engaging gap-toothed smile. "The usual?"

"Yup."

"Hard day?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow as he rustled up the sandwich.

"Hard case," she replied, shaking her head. "Too many angles. Too many victims. Too many credible suspects. Not enough proof."

The vendor lathered the bun lavishly with mustard and sprinkled it with ketchup. "Here you go, Miss Lilly."

Lilly's hands welcomed the tasty warmth. She'd just begun to open her mouth, anticipating the first savory bite, when her glance fell on a face across the street. It was a remarkably familiar face—peaches and cream complexion, blonde hair, wide eyes, and, at this particular moment, gaping wide mouth.

Sarah Bryant.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" she shrilled, breaking into a sprint across the busy street. She was instantly met by a dozen furiously honking cars and squealing brakes, just barely making it to the opposite sidewalk. But not before Sarah had pulled her disappearing act again. The girl was nowhere to be found.

Well, for fuck's sake. So she's still in town, Lilly ruminated darkly. I wonder why?

Still unable to catch her breath after her mad race across the street, she had just begun to turn back toward her hotdog when she was startled by a hand roughly grabbing her shoulder.

"I bin looking for you," a threatening voice growled in her ear.