Five: 1976, 2008 and 2009
December 24th 2008
He stirred slowly, rolling over as he sunk through from sleep to waking, rubbing sore, bloodshot eyes – the after effects of one too many whiskeys the night before – and preparing for another day of work when he noticed that he wasn't entirely alone.
Not alone at all, in fact, he had a tiny blonde curled up beside him, her head on his chest, her arm slung loosely across his body. There was a moment of annoyance… he'd been trying to straighten his act out, and then the horrific realisation as he took a closer look at the beautiful, completely naked woman with her legs entwined with his.
He'd never thought he'd see Lilly Rush so… exposed. And as he watched her sleeping silently, her mouth turned down slightly in an almost worried frown, he realised out of every time he'd ever seen her, slumped against the wall in the interrogation room, blood leaving the trail where she fallen, staring hauntedly up at the window of George Marks' loft, being pulled, soaking wet and shaking out of the river that night… he'd never seen her look quite as vulnerable as she did right there.
He didn't know what to do. Had she been just anyone, depending on the situation, it would have been a direct decision, whether to wait for her to wake up, tracing circles on her bare back, or to ease himself out from underneath her, lurk in the bathroom until she'd woken up and left. But she wasn't just anyone, this was Lilly Rush, for God's sakes, and this… this was maybe one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made. He couldn't… he couldn't even remember the night before clearly, he'd lost everything in between the two of them drinking in a high street bar, and this morning. He couldn't remember how they'd gotten back to his apartment, how they'd ended up in bed…
Her lips, searing on his, his hands clutching at every part of her body, longing, desperate.
Ok, so maybe he could remember a little. But not enough to establish whether it had been a good idea, acting on the back of four, five years of repressed feelings, or a drunken mistake, the pair of them too inebriated to even notice who the other really was. Whatever it was, this was going to have some serious repercussions.
He hadn't taken any action to move away from her by the time her eyes fluttered open, sated sleep in them turning into shock in a moment.
March 20th 2009
The metals bars swung shut behind Dean Farrell with a solid finality. The last thirty three years in lock up had not been kind to him, he was beginning to look haggard and he'd long since lost all his hair. Lilly didn't think he'd probably ever been an attractive man, and the mug shots she'd seen certainly supported that view, and here he was, looking worse. He looked between the detectives, and then sat in the chair, folding his arms.
"Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
Lilly laughed lightly, sitting down opposite him as Scotty paced behind her. Whatever there was to say about their personal lives, they were still a formidable team when interrogating. "For once, that might be true, Dean." She leant forward on her elbows. "We're here about Mary Beaumont's murder."
Dean near-to laughed. "I been tellin' you people I had nothin' to do with that since they banged me up. Said her blood on my clothes an' in my flat were enough to send me down… an' they did."
"We got new direction, Dean."
He shrugged. "What's it to me? The courts didn't care what I had to say in '76, what makes you think you're gonna find anyone better now?"
She swallowed slowly, sitting back a little as Scotty walked over. "How'd her blood get on your shirt, Dean?"
Farrell rolled his eyes. "They didn't tell you anythin' 'bout what happened?"
"What went down?" Scotty repeated, leaning forward on the table, bracing himself so his face was inches away from Farrell's. There was a moment of shock on Lilly's part at having him so close to her.
Farrell laughed. "I told them then… slut came home one night, told me that the freakin' baby wasn't mine… an' I punched her, like she deserved…" he clasped his hands in front of him, giving both detectives a sadistic smile. "I'd put her up when her daddy chucked her out, was givin' her money and everythin' and she goes and tells me that, eight months in!"
"And that's all you did, just punch her?" It was more difficult that she thought to keep her voice steady when she could practically feel the heat radiating off of her partner. Farrell nodded slowly, with the air of someone talking to a child.
"I hit her about a bit, she ran out on me, shouting somethin' about goin' to the police… guess she never had the chance…"
Scotty took a step back, giving Lilly a chance to regain her breathing space. He paced around the back of Farrell, running his hands over his short hair.
"So… you got anyone else, might look good for Mary's murder, Dean?"
Farrell nodded. "Sure. I told you people then… her dad was a real nasty piece of work?"
Lilly almost laughed, coming from the tattooed prisoner admitting to assault like it held the same value as going to sleep at night, that was rich.
"How so?"
"Mary… Mary came from a nice little family, went to a nice school… but she went bad when her Mom died, y'know what I mean… she wasn't the nice little girl anymore… started hangin' out down at the old park… that's where I met her… sometimes I thought her bangin' me was jus' a way of gettin' back at the world, y'know? Her daddy couldn't be bothered with her, he left her to her brother and sister, and they couldn't control her… she slept with me without a blink when she was fifteen…" he smirked, "She was a mess… an' when she came to tell me she got pregnant… I was gon' drop her there, y'know, but I was runnin' this small time drug job, havin' a girl, a pregnant girl at home would've been a fuckin' great alibi, so I offered her in on my flat… but she had this idea in her head she was gon' tell her daddy an' he was gon' sort it all out for her… but I guess it didn't go so well…"
Night Moves – Bob Seger
June 12th 1976
Dean Farrell lay on his messy couch, amongst fast food cartons and beer bottles, listening to a half-scratched record and smoking a rolled up cigarette lazily. The knocking on the door was sudden and urgent, but Dean's reaction, slow and hazy, countered it. He staggered to the door, calling out something incomprehensible, and fumbled with the bolts on the door for a good minute before wrenching it open to see Mary standing there, drenched in the summer rain, the fact that her clothes were soaking showing the otherwise hidden slight bump to her stomach.
"What the…" Dean started, but Mary cut him off, staggering through the door, sobbing, and slamming it behind her.
"He… he said he never wanted to see me again…. And Mark and Anna… they just stood there…"
For a long moment Dean said nothing, then Mary looked up, her face coming into the light, and her saw the purplish-blue shade her left eye was turning. He took a step towards her, taking her arms in his two large hands.
"He do that, Mary?"
She shook her head, "It's nothing…"
Dean shook her slightly. "Don't you lie to me… it was him, wasn't it, your perfect daddy that you always preferred to me?"
She shook her head, tears dashing from her eyes. "I thought… I thought he was gonna make it right… but he said if I ever came near that house again… he'd kill me…"
Dean stepped away from her, cracking his knuckles, anger bubbling inside him.
"Don't be mad." She whispered in a small voice, "You're all I got now, baby…"
His breathing slowed slightly, but he didn't turn around. "You can sleep on the couch."
Mary staggered into the other room, tears still falling from her eyes.
March 20th 2009
"I thought… I thought maybe she went back to her house… an' her daddy made good on his promise…"
Lilly stood up, eyes cold. "Right Romeo you are, Dean, makin' the pregnant girl sleep on the couch…"
He smirked back at her. "She deserved the floor, given I wasn't even the father of that baby…"
*
Scotty put the car into ignition, as Lilly dialled Vera's number.
"Nick Vera."
"Nick, it's Lil. Just been talking to Dean Farrell, and he reckons the father was abusive and threatened Mary. Worth checking out."
"I'm on it."