For Snow Ivy, classicTVchic, and Sukkerspinn. They know why. And if they don't—they should.
Chapter 18
Still in a haze, Lilly hardly knew how she drifted down the steps toward the approaching figure. Her hands took hold of shoulders unexpectedly narrow, eyes staring fiercely two apparently nonchalant ones.
"Erica? Erica Bailey?"
Slowly the blue eyes changed, recognition dawning on them, followed by another expression—one of bewilderment and maybe fear. The thin shoulders tried to pull away, but Lilly's trigger-trained hands had too tight a grip on them. "Erica Bailey?" she repeated. This is too weird, a part of her mind was screaming out. Something's wrong. Why does she look so scared if she was one who asked you to meet her here?
"Erica Bailey," she doggedly persisted.
"What the damn hell do you think you're doing?" a rough male voice exploded at her side, the unanticipated brunt of it causing her to release her culprit and break out of her stupor. "Get your damn hands off my daughter—now."
Shit. Lilly's heart sank as low as it would go, watching miserably as the face before her mutated, taking on its real form—the form of a terrified child. Tall, yes. Convincing as a young woman? Maybe. Blonde and blue eyed, true. Same hair, same smile. The resemblance was unmistakable. But Erica Bailey this was not.
"Daddy!" the girl cried out, ripping out of her grasp as if she were the devil himself.
"Oh… it's you."
These three words held so much sour disdain, Lilly made the effort, reluctantly, to see who had pronounced them. Surprise, surprise—it was Aaron Bailey. Somewhere deep inside her, something cracked in despair—she could actually feel the bitter taste of it in her mouth. Not only did the headway she thought she'd made not exist, but she somehow managed to continue injuring the very family she wanted to help. Get a grip, Rush. Crush down that lump in your throat and don't let me see you at it again. Big girls don't cry.
"I should have known you'd come poking around here again," Aaron Bailey was ranting in worn-out resignation. "Since you seem to have a special taste for upsetting my family."
"I'm sorry," Lilly blurted helplessly, glancing at the frightened girl and wondering how she could ever have mistaken her for a grown up. I'm really losing it—she shook her head in disbelief—maybe I should just go to bed and never get up again. "I didn't mean to scare her. I received this note… and thought it had come from your wife."
"My wife," Aaron Bailey snorted derisively, then seemed to remember his daughter was still nearby and toned it down. "Why should we want to know where she ran off to? Look here, detective—I told you once before. We don't care. She's not a part of our lives anymore. We're just not interested. So why don't you get off our case?"
"I can't," Lilly had been about to say, a hopefully convincing explanation rising to her lips. But she never got a chance to deliver it, because the girl, suddenly gone bold, chose that moment to step out from behind her father.
"I'm interested," she declared, jaw set. "Daddy, I have to know. I know you don't want me to, but please let her tell me. Please. Detective—do you know where she is?"
She was a little girl again, golden pigtails bobbing and glinting in the sunshine as she made her bumpy way down to Kemp's garage, sitting up in her stroller and waving her arms around happily. Lilly could almost see her mother's hands pushing it—fair hands with pinkish knuckles. Soft, young. Alive. Erica Bailey might have been lousy mother by common standards—but she was somebody's mother.
The girl was right—she deserved to know.
"We have a man in custody who we suspect had a part in this." Lilly's words burst forth with a speed that surprised her, nearly devoid of control. "He seems to be the one who wrote the letter you received, Mr. Bailey. We have reason to believe your daughter may have seen him as a child. Would you let her come back with me to Headquarters and see if she can ID him?"
It wasn't till she was back in Headquarters that she realized she'd missed a major part of the jigsaw puzzle—who the hell had contacted her, if not Erica Bailey? She certainly hadn't stuck around to see. Deep down in her heart she'd been just too thrilled believing it was Erica Bailey. To find her alive and well—and in Philadelphia, of all things—was just too much of a treat. Not exactly a compliment to their department that she'd been hiding under their very noses all this time, but the odds of finding her alive were slim to none—and presenting this girl and her brother with a living, breathing mom was the closest thing to a happy ending she could hope to give them.
"Call came in for you, Rush," Vera called out as she was leading the Baileys out back.
A call? "Who was it?"
Not even bothering to glance up, Vera shrugged. "Wouldn't say. A woman. Just said she wanted to talk to you. When I told her you were out she hung up."
Thanks a lot for hanging up on my contact, Nick. Never mind, she had more important things to focus on for now—she could gang up on Vera anytime.
Morgan Newton was still glumly parked in interrogation room 3, looking ludicrously out of proportion in the close, dark, restricted quarters, his stout steel-backed chair practically bursting under his bulk. Stillman refused to take his eyes off the two-way.
"Any news, boss?" Lilly interjected.
"Nope." Stillman's sigh was definitely of the disappointed kind. "But he's been cooperative enough. We've got all the samples we needed. Now we just need to match up." His gaze caught on the two standing hesitantly in the hallway. "Who are they?"
"Jenna, Aaron Bailey's daughter. Remember Jason said his mom had 'wheeled his sister in her stroller'? She might recognize him."
Stillman's expression was highly skeptical. "Lil—she was two. We should consider ourselves lucky she even remembers what her mother looked like."
"Can't hurt," Lilly pressed on. "Please, boss?"
It had begun to rain— fat raindrops splattered against the windows and melting into the last of the slushy roadside snow. After the cold spell of the last few weeks, a little mild rain would be more than welcome. One could even be cheesy and consider it the first sign of spring.
Scotty tore himself from the window and found himself foolishly grinning at the rest of the homicide squad gathered around the room. Everyone was as they should be—Vera perched on the edge of Lilly's desk, Lilly leaning back in her chair, Jeffries by the coffee machine. He was feeling so much more optimistic these days—more than he had since this whole case started. Hell—since the big blow-out with Lilly. Since Elisa's death. Once and for all, life seemed to be falling back into place. He was pulling himself together—getting on with things. Just as Elisa would have wanted.
"All right. What have we got?" Stillman's voice, all competence, cut into his reverie.
"Well, Jenna Bailey recognized Morgan Newton as the man her mother used to visit when she was little," Lilly informed them, all brisk, business-like indifference.
Scotty couldn't help leering at her—she was so obviously gloating. Try as she might, she never could smother the triumphant tone when she got something right—or proved someone else wrong. Their eyes met and he quickly straightened his face, expecting to be clobbered. Much to his surprise, not only did not clobber him, she actually sent a conspiratorial little half smile in return.
Well, I'll be danged…!
"That's no good." Jeffries deliberated. "It helps, but it doesn't prove anything. She was only 2. Not a competent witness. She could be mistaken. Or influenced."
"I don't think she was, though," Vera irreverently put in his two cents. "You should've seen how pissed her pop was! I thought he'd burst through the mirror and beat the crap out of the other guy."
His tittering threatened to get out line, but one glare from Stillman set him back on track. "We get anything back from the lab?"
"Handwriting experts confirmed it was Morgan Newton's hand that wrote the second half of that letter. His prints match some of the prints found on the paper too. And there's more…"
That was Scotty's cue. He'd shamelessly begged Jeffries to be allowed to deliver these news at least, since they were by far the most exciting. "They match a set of prints taken off the public phone that night the call to my house was made," he announced, pausing for effect. "The ones not on IAFIS."
Silence all around as the Powers That Be—namely, Stillman—digested this new intelligence.
"CSU found some stuff Aaron Bailey recognized as his wife's in Newton's trailer, too," added Jeffries. "They're digging around the trailer park now."
After what seemed ages, Stillman made his verdict. "Well, looks like this is our man. Everything points to him. All circumstantial evidence, but we have enough grounds to keep him here overnight at least. I say we lean on him till he cracks. But tomorrow. Let's give CSU a chance to find more evidence, maybe a body buried in that trailer park. You all go home, get some sleep meanwhile."
"Hey, walk you to the train?" Scotty proposed, watching Lilly artfully wind a thick white scarf around her neck. He wasn't trying to be annoying—really, he wasn't. He just wanted to emphasize the fact they were on good terms again. And what better than walking along home like two good buds?
"Okay," replied Lilly, after a slight pause, as if she'd been caught off-guard.
As they made their way downstairs, well-muffled and umbrellas ready, Scotty couldn't help stealing sidelong glances at her. How far could he push his luck, he wondered? The grim, forbidding Lilly Rush appeared actually happy for a change. He wondered if that was all due to the fact she'd been right about Jenna Bailey, or if she'd made peace with herself regarding other things.
Either way, he was just glad they were able to talk and banter together almost like before—as if no ill will had ever passed between them. How long would it last? Would it be worth trying to "talk"—pry information from her, find a reason for her actions?
Hell no, Valens. She ain't gonna tell. You're just gonna make her sore at you again.
He was in the middle of cracking a joke about the hypothetical tele-tubby umbrella Vera would get for his birthday when the elevator door opened and, coquettishly—"Scotty, there you are."
Scotty froze in his tracks, feeling as if someone had plunged an icicle down his back. Christina. Oh shit. Bad timing, hun.
And yet she looked so attractive, so gentle and fuzzy under that endless mass of yellow curls. Her smile warmed his heart in spite of himself. How could he ever blame her?
Furiously, he ordered his numb tongue to work. "Chris—hi," he stammered, not daring to look at Lilly who had gone ominously still at his side.
Not noticing, or, worse yet, not caring, Christina just leaned into him in an embrace. "I've been missing you, Scotty. You coming home?"
There was an awkward silence, and next thing he knew, Lilly had shot clear out of the elevator and was a hundred yards ahead of him in the rain, never looking back. Chris didn't so much as glance after her—Scotty realized she'd probably never even noticed she was there. Not even her affectionate attentions could keep his mind from registering the loss. He'd really blown it this time.
Lilly stalked out into the parking lot in a fume. Of all the nerve! For Christina to just waltz into her place of work as if she hadn't been kicked out of her house merely a few weeks ago, as if she hadn't disrupted her entire life and everyone in it—and on top of that not even acknowledging her! And Scotty, like an idiot, melting into her smile like some oversized lump of butter. What kind of a man was he anyway?
A seduced man, the reasonable little voice in her mind reminded her. Can't really blame him. Don't forget what she's like. Don't forget where she learned all her tricks. No one can resist her.
Knowing her sister was an accomplished slut didn't really make her attitude—or Scotty's—hurt any less, though.
"Detective Rush?" a timid whisper shot out of the darkness, making her jump.
"Show yourself," she growled, right hand at her holster as she turned, squinting at the blurry figure emerging from the shadows.Slowly it took the shape of a woman—filthy, shivering and bedraggled, as if she'd been lingering outside Headquarters for hours. "Sarah Bryant?"
"I heard Regan was here," murmured Sarah, wringing her hands fretfully. "I just… wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay. I don't want her blamed for anything. It was my fault they died. All of them."
Lilly's sympathies were touched and she willed her tone to be softer, more understanding. "I know. She told us everything. You won't be charged. But why in the world did you run? You only made yourself look even more suspicious."
"I know," Sarah gulped. Her eyes were huge, dark and distraught. "I was just scared. Scared and stupid. She… didn't tell you about the accident, did she?"
"Accident? What accident?"
For a moment Sarah looked like she was going to bolt. But she didn't. She just stood there, shaking, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely get any words out. "I've been hiding this for years," she finally managed to say. "But I can't anymore. It's too much. I'm turning myself in."