Morning is a Long Time Coming (2/8) by Bean Rated PG13 for mild language and some violence. Keywords: Bayliss. Pembleton. New character. Summary: Rowan Logan finds herself in the middle of the investigation, headed by Bayliss and Pembleton, into her parents' violent deaths. Disclaimer in Part 1. Feedback, please!! :) -------------- Morning is a Long Time Coming (2/8) Rowan Logan opens heavy eyes the next morning and looks at her watch, squinting through a sleepy haze to see the numbers. God, eight o'clock, she's going to be late if she doesn't hurry. She pulls herself from the couch and scribbles a note to Kevin so he won't worry when he wakes up later and then hurries from the apartment, knowing she has to get home before her father wakes up or pay the consequences. She takes a cab to her Monument Street rowhouse and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that all the lights are still off inside. Rowan pays the cabby and hurries up the stone steps, key in hand. To her surprise, the door is unlocked, so she opens it and steps inside, peering around anxiously - her father has been known to sit waiting for her in a living room chair where she couldn't avoid passing him on her way upstairs. The living room is empty and after discarding her coat, Rowan hurries on up the steps, pausing at her parents' door. The room seems strangely quiet to her - no breathing, snoring or rustling of covers - and she decides to risk a peek. Hell, if they aren't in there then they already know she stayed out all night. What more trouble can she get into? She peers through the small crack and gasps, flinging open the door as her senses are flooded with the impossible. No! No! God, no! This can't be real... it's a dream, something she's seen in a horror movie, not her parents' pretty bedroom with its pale blue walls and white carpeting. She stands in the doorway and looks around wildly, her mind unable to comprehend the scene - there is blood everywhere, all over the walls and carpet and curtains - she has never even imagined anything like it. "Oh, God!" she cries. "Momma, daddy, no, no, please no!!" Rowan runs to the bed and sees what she knew she would: her parents, dead, covered in blood. She screams again and again, holding onto her mother's bloody, lifeless hand as tears pour down her cheeks. Then something occurs to her - Jeremy! No, not her brother... she couldn't stand losing him too... Desperate and afraid, Rowan runs down the hall and throws open the door to her brother's room. He isn't there. No blood... hell, the covers aren't even disturbed. Jeremy must not have been home last night. She offers a quick prayer of thanks to God, but realizes how ironic that is and stops herself before the words are out. Catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her brother's door, Rowan realizes she's covered in her parents' blood. Somehow this sight manages to pull her back to reality... and such a strange, distorted reality it is. She walks slowly, wearily back down to the blood-covered bedroom and picks up the phone. ------------ Tim Bayliss sits at his desk the morning after meeting Logan and stares at the phone, begging it to ring. Falsone and Lewis, Kellerman and Munch, Gharty and Ballard, they've all gotten calls already, less than an hour into the shift. But Bayliss and his partner, Frank Pembleton, are stuck just sitting around the squad room doing old paperwork and twiddling their thumbs. "Why are you so anxious to get a call anyway?" Frank asks suddenly. Bayliss shrugs. "I'm just sick of being here, ya know? I got a lot of stuff on my mind, and working a good murder would help get rid of it." "There's no such thing as a 'good' murder. You should know that by now. Besides, knowing you you'd end up with a drug hit on the West End." He smiles slightly as the phone starts ringing. "Knock on wood," he says, answering it. "Bayliss, homicide." He grabs a pen and begins scribbling notes on an index card. "Uh-huh... ok... yeah... alright, we're on our way." He hangs up the phone and walks over to the door marked "Shift Commander" and knocks. "Come in!" a voice calls testily. Bayliss motions to Pembleton, who follows looking a little miffed that Tim hasn't even *said* anything to him about the murder. "Gee," Bayliss says to Al Giardello, the imposing black man sitting behind the desk, "we just got a full-on red ball. You know Jack Logan, don't you?" "Jack Logan the Maryland State Senator Jack Logan?" he asks quickly. "That's the one. Apparently he and his wife, Julia, were murdered last night, stabbed in their bed. Just got the call, so Frank I were gonna go out there..." "Where is everyone?" "Ah... Ballard and Gharty got a call before I even got here this morning, Falsone and Lewis went out on a drug murder, and Munch and Kellerman were investigating a domestic dispute, but they should be back soon. Sounded like a dunker to me." Gee nods. "Alright, you two go on. As soon as Munch and Kellerman get back I'll join you at the scene. I know the address... had dinner over there just the other night." "Alright, we'll take care of it," Pembleton tells their lieutenant. The two cops grab their coats and keys to a department issue white Cavalier and are quickly on their way to the scene. "Who would want to kill Jack Logan?" Bayliss asks suddenly. Pembleton looks over at him from the driver's seat warily. He knows his partner's tendency to get off on tangents and he really isn't in the mood. "Isn't it strange," Bayliss continues, "how one minute you can be lying in bed with your wife, asleep, and then the next... some maniac is attacking you... I mean, what did Jack and Julia Logan do to deserve being killed like that? They were good people, contributing to the community... why them and not... the people next door?" "Bayliss," Pembleton says quickly. "Yeah?" his partner asks, hoping to hear Frank's always wise two cents. "Shut up." Bayliss snorts in disgust and turns to stare out the window. "I'm serious, Bayliss, just shut up. I'm not in the mood for this today, and I'm not going to put up with it, ok?" "Fine, Frank. If that's how you're going to be, then fine." It's a common argument between the two of them, and both will be over it probably before they even reach the murder scene. The rowhouse is in the upscale Monument district of Baltimore, an area homicide detectives usually have no reason to visit - other than to gawk at the wealth and know that they would never be able to afford such a house. This one is tastefully decorated in soft colors, the entire thing done in white carpeting. The once pristine floor is now marred with black smudges from the shoes of uniform police officers as they run from place to place, looking for the inevitable homicide detective. Bayliss stops one of them and flashes his badge. "Bayliss, homicide. What've we got?" The young man looks up at him and smiles grimly, his face pale. "Repeated stab wounds from the looks of it, sir. There's blood everywhere." "Who was the first on the scene?" Pembleton asks. "I was, detective," he says. "I'm Rob O'Brian... the daughter made the call. She's inside," he tells them, leading them through the front door, "but pretty shaken up, needless to say." "She discovered the bodies?" Bayliss wants to know. "Yeah. She said she came in this morning, went upstairs and found them there just like this." "So she wasn't home last night?" "Apparently not... there she is." He points to a pretty young girl dressed in jeans and a cream-colored flannel shirt covered in blood. Tears streak her face and she is clearly very distraught. Bayliss nods. "What's her name?" he asks the uniform. O'Brian checks his notepad. "Ah... Rowan Logan. She's nineteen, a student at Notre Dame Maryland." Bayliss looks back at him with a half smile. "Did your homework, huh?" he says. The uniform blushes. "Just my job, detective." Pembleton and Bayliss walk over to where the girl is sitting. "Miss Logan?" Pembleton says to her. She looks up at him with watery brown eyes which dart from the elegant black man to the good looking white man next to him. "I'm Detective Pembleton, and this is Detective -" "Bayliss," she interrupts him. The two detectives look at each other, confused. "You don't recognize me?" she questions. "I'm not surprised... I played at your bar last night, Detective Bayliss. I always go by my last name when I play because I don't want my father to find out..." she trails off, not meeting his eyes. *Oh.. shit!* Bayliss' mind screams as he looks down at Rowan Logan. She's the same girl! The same girl he thought to be twenty-three or twenty-four... the same girl he dreamt about all night... and she's only nineteen, and now involved in a red ball murder investigation, of which he is the primary. He shakes his head. "Yeah, of course, now that you say so, I recognize you. I'm very sorry about your parents. Can you tell us what happened?" She stands up, her head high, but her eyes still frightened and sad. "I'll do my best, but I really don't know much." Rowan pauses for a moment to collect herself. "After you walked me to my friend's building - that's Kevin Allison, our lead guitar - I went upstairs and straight to sleep on his couch. He was already in bed, but I yelled at him as I came in the door... it was about twelve thirty, wouldn't you say?" she asks Bayliss. He nods. "Something like that." He catches Pembleton's gaze, but ignores the strange look his partner is giving him. "I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was look at my watch. It was eight o'clock, and I knew I had to hurry or I'd be late. See, my father would have gone ballistic if he knew about my involvement with The X, so whenever we have a show, I sleep over at one of the band member's houses and then try to get home the next morning before he wakes up." She takes a deep breath and goes on, her voice shaking slightly. "When I got here, the door was unlocked. I thought that was strange but... my dad sometimes does that, leaves the door unlocked and then waits for me here in the living room. That way he can catch me in the act of sneaking in, ya know?" Rowan shakes her head. "But he wasn't there, obviously, so I went upstairs. As I passed my parents' room, I listened at the door but didn't hear anything... so I opened it... and... there was... blood everywhere... and I ran to the bed... and they... they were..." she trails off, unable to continue, and presses the back of her hand to her lips. "Alright, Miss Logan," Pembleton tells her, "that's enough for now. We're going to go upstairs and check things out, but then we'll be back to ask you a few more questions." The girl nods, and the two detectives leave her with a uniform. "It sounds like she and her father had a conflict or two," Pembleton says quietly as they walk up the steps. Bayliss just nods and opens the door to the Logans' bedroom. "Jesus," he says softly. "Yeah, she and her father may have had a conflict or two, but do you think that girl is capable of this?" "Hi, guys," Julianna Cox, the Chief Medical Examiner, calls out as they enter the room. "Hey, Dr. Cox, whatcha got?" Frank calls back. She shakes her head. "Multiple stab wounds to both victims... at least ten or fifteen each... made with what looks to be a straight blade. This was obviously a murder of passion. If you were just discussing that kid downstairs, and if I may offer some unsolicited advice, I don't think she's your man." "Oh yeah?" Bayliss questions her. "Why's that?" "These stab wounds are deep... I can't tell how deep here, but that girl doesn't look strong enough to have made them. But," she says with a shrug, "I could be wrong. I'm just the ME." Bayliss studies the room carefully, jotting down information and making sketches of the scene in his notebook. "Estimated time of death?" he asks Julianna. "Ah... they've been dead several hours. I would say some time after midnight last night. I'll give you a closer approximation once I get the bodies to the morgue and can perform tests. You know the drill." He nods. "Frank, why don't you go back downstairs and question Rowan Logan some more... I'll finish up in here and join you in a minute." "Yeah, sure, I think I can handle that," Pembleton says after a moment, obviously angry about something; Bayliss decides to not even worry about what. Frank takes the steps two at a time and is soon standing before Rowan Logan once again. This time he elects to sit down next to her, hoping that will put her more at ease. "Miss Logan, I just have a few more questions for you, alright?" She nods slowly. "I'll tell you everything I can, but I don't know much more than I said before... I mean, who would want to kill my parents?" "You don't know of any enemies they may have had?" "No, my mother was a wonderful woman... warm, kind and loving... I can't imagine anyone would ever want to hurt her," she says adamantly. "And what about your father?" Pembleton prompts. She looks away. "My father... everyone loved my father," despite the kind words, her tone is empty. "Everyone? You mentioned that he didn't like your involvement in... what did you say? The X?" "Yeah, that's my band. Dad hated it..." she shakes her head. "I didn't kill my parents, Detective Pembleton." "No one is saying you did," he tells her softly. "I'm just trying to establish what kind of man your father was." Rowan looks around at the crowded room and lowers her voice further. "Detective... I would rather not discuss my father here." He nods. "As soon as Bayliss is done upstairs we can go down to the station if you'd like. I'm also gonna need a list of people who might have had a key to your house." "Sure... but am I... am I a suspect?" she asks him, her face growing pale. "We have to rule out the most obvious first, Miss Logan. But... no, not really. You're more a suspect as a technicality." Frank surprises himself: he usually feels no sympathy for those involved in a homicide, but this girl is obviously innocent. He decides that putting her fears to rest is harmless enough. A few moments later Giardello shows up at the scene and Pembleton is whisked away to talk to his Lieutenant. "How's Rowan?" he asks first thing, noticing the distressed girl sitting on the couch. "As well as can be expected. She discovered the bodies and is still in shock... but she seems pretty strong," Bayliss answers as he comes down the steps. "We're going to take her down to the station to talk to her, though. She told me she would rather not talk here, with so many people around," Pembleton tells him. "Alright, but this is just a conversation. She isn't a suspect, is she?" "No, I don't really think so," Bayliss says. "Dr. Cox told me the stab wounds look too deep to have been done by someone her size." "Then you're to treat this girl with kid gloves. Her parents have been brutally murdered and she discovered the bodies; we don't want a nervous break down on our hands, understand? And don't forget to ask her about Jeremy, her brother... but be subtle about it." The two detectives nod. "Yes, sir," Bayliss says. "Let me talk to her for a minute before you leave," Gee says, walking over to where Rowan is sitting. "Rowan, how are you? I was horrified when my detective told me what happened." She gestures for him to sit down beside her. "I'm doing alright, Mr. Giardello," she says politely. He smiles. "I don't believe that, but I'll take your word for it. Detective Pembleton mentioned something about you coming down to the station... is that alright with you?" "Yes, it is... I don't want to talk here... I don't want someone to overhear..." "Alright, I was just making sure. Bayliss, Pembleton!" he calls to the detectives. "Ok, Bayliss, you can take her down now, but remember what I said. Frank, I want you to stay here and start canvassing the neighborhood. Bayliss, send everyone you can get your hands on down here, understood?" "Sure thing, Gee," Bayliss says, taking Rowan gently by the arm and leading her outside to the white Cavalier. --------------- "Hey, Bayliss, everyone around here's all atwitter about this case you and Frank just caught. What's the deal?" Munch calls out as soon as Bayliss and Rowan enter the squad room. He catches sight of Rowan and says, "Oh, a dunker, huh? You guys get all the luck... even a blood-covered suspect!" Rowan rolls her eyes, unable to resist. "I would recognize that lack of tact anywhere," she says quietly to Bayliss. Tim looks down at her with a little smile. "He can be really obnoxious. I'll go beat him up for you." She wants to laugh, but can't find it within her, so she just nods solemnly. "Sounds good to me," she tells him, completely serious. He smiles again and takes her to the Box, the nickname for the square, monochromatic interview room. He offers her coffee, which she declines, and then excuses himself to go "take care of Munch," as he puts it. "She's not a suspect, Munch, so I'd appreciate it if you'd leave her alone. Do you want to know who she is? The daughter of prominent state Senator Jack Logan and also... the lead singer of the band we had last night." Munch looks at him, surprised. "Really? Then I guess she isn't a suspect. What a perfect alibi, huh?" Laura Ballard, who has been listening to this exchange, decides to throw in her two cents. "If she isn't a suspect, then why is she in the Box?" the pretty, dark-haired detective wants to know. "The interview rooms are full from Munch and Kellerman's domestic dispute, that's why. And I thought that one was a dunker, Munch... where's your suspect?" The older detective just shakes his head, and Bayliss wonders once again how he does that without displacing a single salt-and-pepper hair. "We don't *have* a suspect, Bayliss. The uniforms lost her." "*Lost* her?" he asks, incredulous. "Yeah, lost her. See, she sticks around long enough to call the police, so the punk kid who shows up first on the scene decides she can't be a suspect and lets her go - even after she admits to being the shooter. I really don't know where the Baltimore Police Department finds these rejects, but I wish we could send 'em back!" Bayliss laughs and continues on to the coffee room, Ballard not far behind. "Ya know, Bayliss," she says casually, "if she isn't a suspect, but you have her in the Box anyway, the least you could do is get her a clean shirt." "Huh?" "A clean shirt. Have you failed to notice that she's completely doused in blood? Her *parents'* blood, Tim." He looks down at her in surprise. "Oh. I hadn't really thought of that... but I probably have something in my locker. Oh, and hey, Gee wanted me to tell everyone I saw to head down to Monument to start canvassing." With that, he wanders off toward the locker room leaving Ballard standing by the coffee maker, wondering how Bayliss managed to make detective at all. She shakes her head and follows him again. "Bayliss, why don't I take it to her?" "Yeah, good idea, Ballard. You're really on the ball today, huh?" "I think you've just fallen off it completely." Bayliss ignores this comment as he opens his locker, withdraws a clean shirt and hands it to Ballard. "Get an evidence bag too, ok? For her to put her old shirt in..." She rolls her eyes slightly. "Yeah, Bayliss, I know. Why don't you get y ourself a really strong cup of coffee and I'll call you in a minute, ok?" Ballard leaves Bayliss in the coffee room and enters the Box. "Miss Logan?" she says to the girl sitting at the metal table. "Call me 'Rowan,' please... all these people calling me 'Miss' is disconcerting." She smiles slightly and Ballard understands how this girl has had such an effect on Bayliss in so short a time - her eyes are old and wise, but her smile is young and sweet - and that's just the beginning. "Alright, Rowan," she says with a smile, "I'm Detective Ballard. Detective Bayliss and I were thinking you might want to change into a clean shirt." She holds up Bayliss' white dress shirt. Rowan looks down at herself, noticing again the dried blood, and pales. "I hadn't really thought about it... but that would be great, Detective Ballard. Thank you." Ballard sets the shirt down on the table and turns to go. "Just knock when you're ready, and I'll bag up that shirt for you. I'll just make sure none of these perverts try to sneak into the observation room, ok?" Rowan chuckles. "I'd appreciate that." She changes quickly and opens the door, still rolling the long sleeves up, and is surprised to nearly run into Bayliss. "Oh, Detective Bayliss... I thought Detective Ballard -" "Yeah, I know, but I think I can handle it from here," he interrupts. He bags up her old shirt and motions for her to sit back down behind the table. "So, Miss Logan..." he pauses for a moment, thinking. "It feels strange to call you that... would you mind if I called you 'Rowan'?" "No, of course not... I'd prefer it. Listen, detective, about last night..." He dismisses it with a quick gesture. "It's ok, Rowan. Don't worry about it." She nods slowly. "I just wanted to make sure... and hey, don't worry about the money. We didn't shake on the bet or anything, and you already paid the three hundred for the set, so it's no big deal." Bayliss smiles. "I'll pay you, don't worry about that. I set myself up, and I deserve to have to pay the extra three hundred. Now, about the matter at hand..." "Do you think I killed my parents? Or that I know who did?" she asks suddenly, surprising him. "I... no, of course not. I was just hoping you might have some idea as to why someone would." She frowns. "My father was a powerful man, detective. There are many reasons why someone might want him dead. As for my mother... I have no idea. Maybe she saw too much." Bayliss shakes his head. "No, this wasn't the kind of murder that occurs because one politician is stepping on another's toes. The stab wounds were deep, and there were a lot of them. Whoever did this really hated your parents... or was very angry." "I... I can't think of anyone..." She won't meet his eyes and Bayliss knows something is up. "Who are you protecting, Rowan?" he asks softly, leaning close to her. Her head snaps up, her eyes on fire. "Why would I protect someone who brutally murdered my parents?" she asks with venom. "Well... if this someone was very close to you... a good friend... or maybe even a relative...?" he trails off, eyebrows raised, a reflective look on his face. "My brother did not stab my parents," she says heatedly. "I didn't say he did," he replies mildly. "Oh, please, detective, don't insult my intelligence by playing mind games on me like I'm some common corner boy. I know perfectly well what you were implying and perfectly well what you may think. Jeremy did not kill my mother and father!" "How can you be so sure?" "Because he promised me he wouldn't!" she blurts out, completely taking Bayliss off guard. He stops short, his face inches from hers, and sits back suddenly. "He promised you he wouldn't?" She stands up and walks to one of the windows, staring out at the near-empty squad room. She fidgets for a while, realizing she's dug herself a hole and that the mind games she criticized him for playing have worked. "He was angry with my father, constantly angry, and I knew he often thought about killing him, but I made him promise not to. I told him there were other ways, that we could simply leave. He agreed... he told me he didn't think he could really do it anyway, not when it came down to it. But... even if Jeremy did break his promise and kill our father, why would he kill Momma? She was never..." Rowan trails off, her head bowed. "I loved her, and so did he." "She was never what, Rowan?" Bayliss prompts gently. With a gesture of frustration, she turns to face the detective once again. "She was never the one who hurt us." "Your father beat you?" She shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "No, dad never hit *me*. Jeremy sometimes, when he was younger, but not since he's become old enough to defend himself. Dad never would have hit me." "Why's that?" he asks softly, knowing how hard it is for her to tell him these things. Rowan doesn't say anything for a while, just stares at him, as if gauging how trustworthy he is. Bayliss catches on to this and smiles slightly. "You can trust me, Rowan." "No, I can't. But it's alright, I understand that you have to write down what I say in some sort of report... I wouldn't have started if I didn't intend to finish... though now I'm regretting it." She pauses, collecting herself. "My father married my mother for one reason and one reason only: she was beautiful. Julia Songbird was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and a beautiful wife was exactly what he was looking for. My mother knew why he married her, but she didn't care... she wanted to get away from the Reservation and move to a big, wonderful city, and my father could do that for her. "My father didn't hit me because I look just like my mother did when they were married - or so he's told me. I was his doll, detective. He controlled every aspect of my life: what I ate, how I dressed, where I went to school, the friends I had... everything. His temper was terrible, and if I ever broke one of his rules, my mother or Jeremy would pay for it. But not me... never me... I hate him for that." Her voice has become soft, sad, angry, and it touches Bayliss' heart. He knows exactly how she feels. "You said she wanted to get away from the Reservation... was your mother Native American?" Rowan smiles slightly. "Yeah, she was Indian. Part of what attracted my father to her is how dark she is... was... I don't think I look much like her: my skin's lighter and my hair is more light brown than black... but there was no dissuading my father when he got an idea into his head." Bayliss studies her face for a long time before saying, "I think there's more to this than you're telling me, Rowan." "Detective, I... please, accept that and move on," she says, a note of pleading in her voice. "You know I can't do that, Rowan. Listen, I'm gonna go get myself another cup of coffee, and when I get back I expect to hear the rest of this, ok? You want anything?" She shakes her head and he leaves the Box, taking a detour to the observation room where, as expected, Giardello and Pembleton have been watching most of the interview. "I had no idea Jack Logan was that kind of man," Gee says after a moment. "He always seemed very pleasant, his family the very picture of perfection. Do you think she'll tell you the rest?" he asks Bayliss. The detective nods. "Yeah, she will. It's obvious she needs to tell someone, and I think it won't take much to get the rest out of her." "What do you think the rest is?" Frank asks speculatively. "I think we can all guess that," Gee says sadly. "Tim," Pembleton says softly to his partner, "if you want me to do this, I will." Bayliss shakes his head. "No, Frank. If I bail on her now I don't think we'll hear the whole story." "I agree," Giardello tells the two. "Why don't you go get your coffee then get back in there. I don't want her thinking we're in the observation room dissecting her psyche. And bring her some Kleenex. She'll cry eventually." End part 2/8