Ten: 1976 and 2009

March 21st 2009

New York City

Lilly climbed out of the car, following Flack and Lindsay towards the block of flats in a neighbourhood of New York that didn't exactly look all that salubrious. She wasn't quite as comfortable walking round New York as she was in Philly, there was an element of familiarity missing, but beside the two NYPD detectives she figured she'd manage just fine.

The elevator in the block smelt of a mixture of stale sweat and urine, causing Flack to take one sniff and then decidedly veer off towards the stairs, the two women following close behind. Unfortunately, the stairwell wasn't much better, and Josie Carmichael's flat just happened to be on the top floor. Lilly found herself breathing as quickly and shallowly through her nose as possible, and trying, even then, not to breath much of the stale air in. Flack bounded up the last flight of stairs two at a time, and for a moment Lilly caught Lindsay's gaze, and the NYPD Detective rolled her eyes at her. She gave a small smile in return, and Lindsay felt a pang of regret. This other detective had no idea how great it was to see Flack show even a little bit of bounce in his step. She hadn't known the old Flack, the Flack before Angell's death, the Flack before he had decided to stop caring about most things in life.

She couldn't complain, though. This case seemed to be bringing something back to the detective, whether it was simply a lust to catch the killer who had caused such horrific scenes, or whether something of the old Flack was creeping back, Lindsay didn't know. But somehow he'd gained something of himself again, and it had coincided with Emma Kranz's murder and the arrival of the two Philly cops.

It was Flack who rapped harshly on the door of Josie Carmichael's flat, flinching for a minute almost before touching the peeling green paint, avoiding the suspicious looking wet patch just below belt level. For a moment, there was no answer.

"Ms Carmichael, NYPD! We would like to talk to you!"

For a moment, another silence. Then the sound of feet tramping across the floor and five or six locks being undone. Then, the door opened and a face peered round the door. It wasn't the face of Josie Carmichael, however, but it could have been, years ago. The girl standing there was about seventeen, same curly blonde hair, same bright green eyes. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and there was red lipstick on her mouth, some of which had strayed to her teeth. She was chamming almost violently on a piece of gum.

"There ain't no Miz Carmichael here." she said, leaning on one leg and looking between them. When she saw Flack her eyes widened slightly and she opened the door a little more, giving her enough room to press both arms against her sides, accentuating the fact that almost everything was visible through her black lace shirt. Her eyelashes actually fluttered, and Lindsay had to look down at the floor to stop her from snorting out loud. "But I might be able to help."

Flack flashed the teenager his police badge, not even a hint of a smile touching his face. "We're looking for someone, Miss…"

"Chloe." The girl said, giving another hideous yellow teeth-and-lipstick smile, and opening the door wider, allowing them through.

"A Josie Carmichael?" Lilly continued, and the girl was about to shake her head when a figure walked through from the kitchen.

"That was me, before I got married." The woman said, and Lilly let the door slam behind them, almost in shock. The woman standing opposite them looked far older than her 48 years, a result of endless tobacco smoking, dabbling in drugs in her late teens, three husbands and six children. Her hair, which in the few photos Lilly had seen of her made her look beautiful, was now false and brassy, with roots shining grey for about half an inch at the top of her head. There were wrinkles around her mouth from the smoking, and she was wearing makeup as heavy and as tasteless as her daughters, a cigarette hanging between two yellowing fingers. "Can I help?"

"It's about Mary Beaumont, Ms Carmichael." Lindsay said, "Maybe we could sit down?"

"Sure, sure." She said, ushering them through into a room that didn't seem to have a sole function, but a bed in one corner, the bedclothes still strewn about from the night before, a sink down one end, and a sofa, covered in crumpled clothes, both dirty and washed, along the near wall. Josie balled a large mass of the clothes up and threw them on the floor, gesturing almost grandly to the sofa. Lindsay, Flack and Lilly perched down on it, all of them subconsciously wincing as they touched it.

"Chloe, make us a cup of coffee!" Josie yelled, and turned to the detectives, giving them a toothy smile, "You want anything?"

They all shook their heads slightly too quickly. Josie perched on the edge of the unmade bed and looked at them. "Mary Beaumont? There's a name I haven't heard in a long time…"

"It's about her murder." Lilly started. "We've reopened the case."

"Dean did it." The older woman said, with a strange and suspicious air of defiance. "Dean Farrell, her good-for-nothing boyfriend… he did it. He went down for it too…"

Lilly shook her head. "We have reason to believe it may not have been Dean, Mrs… what did you say I could call you?"

Josie shook her head. "I didn't. But Josie's just fine. Kinda going through a rough divorce… between names, y'know?" Lilly didn't know. "But who… who would kill Mary if it wasn't Dean?"

Flack leant forward, resting his hands on his knees, giving Josie the smile he'd once always used in interrogations with anything female with a pulse. "We were thinking you, Josie." Another flash of those perfect teeth, "Mary did get pregnant with your boyfriend… and we have evidence you went round her house, threatening things, but she was already gone…"

Josie looked at him for a second, and then snorted with laughter. "I didn't kill Mary, detectives! I was sure as hell mad at her, but I didn't kill her! I was sixteen… and anyway, it wasn't her, in the end, that made me so mad… it was Lyle… I went straight from looking for Mary to hurt to looking for Lyle to hurt…"

"And did you find him?" Lindsay spoke up, trying desperately to read something on the woman's face.

"Sure I did." She laughed again, and Lindsay almost recoiled at the stench of smoky breath. "The next day. And I gave him hell… but in the end, it was Lyle who was the most angry."

Right Back Where We Started From – Maxine Nightingale

September 26th 1976

She kept hammering and hammering on the door, knowing that eventually he would have to answer it. His parents were away for the week, but it was late, so she suspected he was just settling down for the night, a few beers running through his veins and a mildly inappropriate movie in the VCR. But he had to answer to her, and he had to answer to her right then. She deserved at least that.

When he opened the door, she could see in his eyes that he had been drinking, and she wrinkled her nose and burst through the door.

"Josie… hey… I was going to call you…"

"Screw you." She hissed, slamming the door behind her, her hands fisting on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height. "Screw you, you arrogant manwhoring prick of a boyfriend, you-"

"What the hell are you on, Jo?" he cut her off, but his eyes were flashing, like he was ready to bolt. Josie laughed, almost ironically.

"What am I on? What am I on? Mary. Beaumont. Seriously, Lyle? I could kill you!"

Lyle took a step backwards, and Josie watched a series of emotions flash across his face. Shock, realisation, horror. But when she didn't see anything she could even begin to place as guilt, she raised her fist, and punched Lyle Feltham, her high school senior jock boyfriend, right on the nose.

*

Josie had been a nice girl back then, and she sat afterwards in Lyle's kitchen, holding an ice pack to his nose.

"I still hate you."

Lyle laughed, and then moaned in pain. "I figured."

Josie grit her teeth to stop herself from punching him again. "What… why wasn't I enough for you, Lyle?"

He shook his head. "Jeez, Josie, I dunno, I-"

She could feel the tears dripping down her face. "Why Mary, though? She used to be my best friend, could you not have made it someone else, someone I didn't know…"

And for a moment Lyle didn't have anything to say. And then he clenched and unclenched his fists, anger rising in his face.

"I'm gonna kill her…" he muttered. Josie raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to kill Mary?"

He shook his head at her. "She… she was just a little whore. I'm going to kill her."

March 21st 2009

Josie looked between them, nodding. "I always thought Lyle had anger problems, Detectives. He was on the football team; I guess he used to let it out doing that… but he was always kinda… fired up. Like he was waiting to explode. He used to scare me, if we ever fought… I guess I always thought he might snap."

Lilly and Lindsay nodded, Flack scribbling down the last few lines in his pad.

"And Lyle's the only one you can think of who might have had it in for Mary?"

Josie cocked her head to one side, seeming to consider. Then, "Sure, I guess. I mean, her brother and sister… they loved her… her Dad… he was an ass, but I don't think he had murder in him… and if it wasn't Dean… she was a nice girl, before she went bad… she hadn't had the time to make many enemies…"

She stared off into space, looking wistful, and for a moment, under the layers of makeup, Lilly could see that once, she would have been fairly pretty.

"You'll catch who did this, right?"

Flack looked up suddenly. "We're trying."

Josie nodded vigorously, like she was convinced they would.

"Thank you for your time, Josie." Flack smiled, "If you remember anything else that might help us, here's my card."

She took it with a flirtatious flourish, and Lindsay had to stare pointedly out of the window to stop herself from visibly rolling her eyes.

The moment they were out of the hideous flat block, Lindsay pulled out her cell phone.

"Danny, it's me… any luck on Lyle Feltham, yet?... He's in San Francisco? … Yeah, I guess. Uh… we're on our way back, now. See you this evening, then. Love you."

She turned to the others, looking grim. "Lyle Feltham's not exactly in the state… apparently your lot are sending someone to him… Detective Vera?"

Lilly laughed. "I bet he loves that."

A/N: Hope you're still liking it, and I'd love some reviews :)