Aftermath by Casey Hill Read Free Book Online Page B

the affable TV host. “You’ll find him won’t you?" she said then, with ferocity in her eyes. "You find him and make my house safe again for me. For Lottie?”
    Reilly nodded, and then left the woman alone to watch over her comatose husband, her arms hugged close to her chest as tears streamed down her face.
    So dramatic, and of course Annabel Morrison had every reason to be, but still she couldn't help but wonder if this too was all part of a performance.
    She shook her head. She really needed to work on being more sympathetic, but something about Annabel Morrison rubbed her up the wrong way.
    As she headed down the hallway, her phone buzzed with a diary alert. Checking the screen she realized she was about to miss an appointment.
    One she'd been dreading for quite some time.
    Fortunately for her, this Morrison thing was a hot case, so she could blow off the force’s attempt to provide her with obligatory PTSD counseling, following the incident with Tony Ellis last month.
    The first session was today, and Reilly was grateful for the opportunity to give it a miss. It was a dumb idea and a complete waste of her time. In her line of work she ran into crazies all the time, had done throughout all her time in law enforcement both here and in the US.
    How was she supposed to find time to do her job if she had to get therapy every single time that happened?

11
     
     
    W hile the detectives were off hunting down potential suspects and interviewing witnesses, Reilly once again turned her focus to the crime scene.
    One thing that had bugged her from earlier was still bugging her, so as she found her way to the hospital cafeteria to grab a bite, she looked at the Morrison background file information-hound Rory had compiled, and dialed the number to PhoneWatch Security.
    "Reilly Steel, GFU,” she said to the woman who answered. "I need some data from one of your customers for an open investigation. I have the necessary codes.”
    While Reilly listened to the hold music--Peter Gabriel she guessed--she sought out a sandwich and a soda. And some sort of processed cookie.
    The baby made her want sweets. Or at least, that's how she justified it.
    Sitting alone at a formica table she got through both her sandwich and the cookie before another person picked up.
    "Investigation Liaison, this is Brian."
    “Hello, Reilly Steel here from GFU. I'm on the Morrison case."
    “Of course you are," Brian drawled. "And no I don't have a comment."
    “I’m not a reporter. My office should have faxed over an incident request?"
    "Oh," he said apologetically. "Let me look. Yes, I see it now, sorry. Can you confirm the incident number?"
    "Yep, hold on," she thumbed through Rory’s carefully compiled info and found it. "X7 stroke 4989."
    "Okay got it, so what can I help you with?"
    “I know you guys usually send on a form report, but in the meantime, can you check the records for me? Was there an alarm or trigger event anytime last night at the Morrison residence?"
    “We’re already checked it, believe me," Brian said, in a tone that suggested he was (yet another) Josh Morrison fan. "Quiet as a church. Not a peep."
    "You don't need to get too detailed, but what's the trip configuration exactly? Someone hops over the wall into their garden for instance?"
    "That would trip the system, yes. The whole perimeter is motion-sensitive, plus there's a trigger on all the windows and doors. As a matter of fact, we get at least a dozen false alarms from there a month."
    "False alarms from what?"
    “The usual story. They have a cat. Sometimes it gets out.”
    “CCTV?”
    “Nah, they didn't want it. Not many people do with a monitored system.”
    Made sense, Reilly thought, that a high-profile couple like the Morrisons wouldn't want live CCTV cameras directed onto living areas that random PhoneWatch staff members could access at any time. It would be like living in the Big Brother house.
    Pity though.
    "Okay, got it. Thanks for your time Brian, and just fax