Morning is a Long Time Coming (3/8) by Bean Rated PG13 due to language, violence and references made to disturbing subject matter (ie, child abuse) Keywords: Bayliss. Pembleton. New character. Summary: Rowan Logan makes a confession (not *that* kinda confession); another body is discovered. See part 1 for disclaimers. The book mentioned in this section, Deerskin, does exist and is very powerful. Nothing said about it here ruins the story (no spoilers, I mean) so you should definitely check it out. Feedback, feedback, rahrahrah!! --------------- Morning is a Long Time Coming (3/8) Bayliss quickly gets what he needs and is soon back in the Box, dropping the tissues on the table. "I thought you might need those," he says with a kind smile. "I don't cry very easily, detective," Rowan tells him in a soft voice. He seats himself in the chair opposite and nods. "Yeah, I can tell that about you. But sometimes it just makes you feel better to let everything out." She slowly raises an eyebrow. "I have a feeling you aren't talking about tears." "You told me you wouldn't have started this if you didn't intend to finish. I can tell you aren't finished. You said you were your father's 'doll.' Tell me more about that." He can tell that her guard is up now, but he's not letting her get out of this without telling him everything. Rowan watches him warily, wondering how to answer this question with the least amount of information, yet still with enough to get him off her back. She decides that nothing but the full truth will get rid of him, so she steels herself to tell this man - this near total stranger - what she's never told anyone. "When I was a little girl, no one cared what I did. I was a complete tomboy, always getting myself dirty and ripping my clothes and just generally wreaking havoc. My father thought it was cute and always treated me more like a son than a daughter, which was totally fine with me. I hated wearing dresses and taking baths and behaving like the proper young lady my mother wanted me to be, so I was my father's little girl. Always. "But, like most little girls, I grew out of it. By the time I was thirteen, I looked about seventeen. That's when my father began to change. Jeremy was eleven, and as good an athlete as I ever was, but still dad ignored him... even though I wasn't a tomboy anymore, I was still a daddy's girl. He made sure of it... always coming between my mother and I whenever we were alone together, always saying terrible things about her to me... it was disgusting how jealous of my growing relationship with her he was," she tells him, her voice bitter and sad. "I was just a kid and I didn't understand what was happening to my family, so I tried to keep things as they had been when I was younger. But now whenever I showed interest in baseball or football, dad would yell at me, tell me I was to be a proper young lady and to forget about things like sports. I wouldn't need to be athletic or intelligent, I was pretty. It made me sick to think he wanted me to be so one-dimensional, but he was my father and I wanted to please him. So I gave up my sports, which I loved, and I did everything he told me." Rowan pauses, thinking, and looks up at Bayliss. "Have you ever read a book called Deerskin? It's by Robin McKinley." He shakes his head. "I don't get much chance to read." "Ah... well... it's about this princess, Lissar is her name, whose mother is the most beautiful woman in seven kingdoms. Her father loves her mother so much that he's blind to everything else, and when her mother dies he goes crazy. Lissar has spent her life ignored by her parents and her people; she was simply outshone by her mother. But five years after her mother's death, her father throws a grand fifteenth birthday party for her. In this time, Lissar has grown to be just like her mother - only kind and loving, qualities her mother always lacked in favor of beauty - and her father, the king, falls in love with her. "The day after her birthday party, he announces to the kingdom that he is to marry her, his own daughter! The people blame Lissar, saying she has bewitched him. How could the king think she looks like her mother? She's terribly awkward and simple, they think... but at least pretty enough to bewitch even someone has handsome as the king. "The point is, Lissar feels this fear of him for years after her mother dies, and especially on the night of the ball, and then the next day when she's called to court it's almost overpowering, but she doesn't understand why. She partially blames herself for being foolish and, some part of her thinks, wishful. She doesn't understand it until that moment, when he takes her hand and tells everyone she is to be his bride. I was like Lissar, Detective Bayliss: completely ignorant of the reasons behind my fear until the moment of truth came." "What happened, Rowan?" he asks softly. She stands up and turns away, leaning her forehead against the cool brick of the back wall of the Box. Images flash through her mind: a dark night, cold and deep; a girl, unable to sleep, shivering beneath a pile of covers; a door slowly opening... Rowan turns to face Bayliss reluctantly, still leaning against the wall as though her legs wouldn't support her without it. "One night when I was fourteen, he came to my room. This was common when I was little - he would tuck me in or read me a story, so I was delighted. I thought things were finally going back to normal." She buries her face in her hands and whispers, "I was so stupid. How could I have been so stupid?" "No," Bayliss says forcefully, "you weren't stupid. You trusted him, Rowan. He was your father, and fathers are supposed to be people you can trust. They aren't supposed to hurt you." She angrily yanks a Kleenex from the box and wipes her eyes. "I have hated him ever since that night. He took the love and the trust and the respect I had for him and he twisted it and destroyed it. After he left I wanted to die - I wanted to jump out my window or slit my wrists or throw myself down the stairs. My heart was broken and my soul was shredded and there was nothing I could do! "If Jeremy did indeed kill them, then he killed my mother because she never did anything. She was a weak woman, and frightened of my father. She knew what he was doing to me, his own daughter, and she never stopped him. He beat her, and he beat Jeremy, and she never stopped him, never went to the police or took us and ran away. And it was all because she was so damned comfortable. We had a nice house, lots of important friends... she couldn't live without that once she'd had it. Wealth is a drug, detective, and my mother was an addict." "You're nineteen, aren't you?" he asks. She nods, and he continues. "Why didn't you leave? He couldn't have brought you back." Rowan stares at him, eyes wide. "I would never have left Jeremy in that house! When my father found out, he would probably blame Jeremy and might have killed him... I couldn't let that happen. We were going to wait until April, when Jeremy turns eighteen, then we were going to leave. That way dad couldn't get him back." "But your mother still would've had to live with him." Rowan shrugs and sits down wearily. "She wouldn't have come. To momma, it didn't really matter what dad did. She lived in her own little world of shopping and parties and luncheons." Bayliss leans close to her again. "Rowan, this is very important. Do you think your brother killed your parents?" She sits there for a long time, sad and reflective. "I honestly don't know, detective. He might have, but I pray he didn't. Jeremy showed signs of having my father's temper, but... God, I hope he didn't do this!" "He wasn't home last night, is that correct?" She nods. "Do you know what time he left?" She frowns, considering. "I left for Kevin's at about... nine or so... and Jeremy was still home then. So," she says with a sardonic little smile, "sometime between nine last night and eight this morning." Bayliss nods, this answer not surprising him. "Well, regardless of his guilt or innocence, we need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?" Rowan shakes her head slowly. "I have no idea. There are friends he might be staying with, but he would have called once he heard about this... I don't know, I might be able to find him." "Good. You start thinking about it, and I'll go get some paper for you to write up your statement." As he turns to go, he looks back at her, a crease of thought between his eyebrows. "That book... it sounds pretty depressing," he says after a moment. "It starts out sad and terrible, but it has a very happy ending." "Oh? How so?" "Lissar finds what she's been searching for." He waits for her to continue, and when she doesn't he prompts, "What's that?" Rowan smiles. "Don't you know, detective? Lissar was looking for love, and she found it where she least expected." Their eyes meet for a moment, but Bayliss quickly turns away again. "I'll just go find that paper..." he mumbles, leaving her alone for the third time. She leans back in the chair, her mind whirling. She lied to Bayliss: Rowan knows precisely where her brother is, and she's very afraid that he is the murderer of their parents. But how could he be? Her brother is kind and gentle and caring... is he really capable of doing something so horrid and brutal? "She knows where he is," Pembleton remarks to Bayliss as they stand in the observation room, watching her. "And she thinks he killed their parents." "But will she tell us that?" "Where he is, maybe. That he's the one? No. She isn't sure, and there's no way she's going to point the finger at the only family she has left on suspicion alone." Frank just nods, silent, realizing that Bayliss is right. There was a time when Pembleton might have argued the less experienced detective's instincts, but years of working together has taught him that Bayliss has his moments, and this seems like one of them. "So go ask her where he is and let's get him in the Box. If he did it, and he's the type of kid she says he is, then it won't be too much trouble getting a confession out of him." Bayliss frowns slightly, the crease appearing between his eyebrows again. "I don't want to go at him hard, Frank. He's a victim as much as Jack and Julia Logan." Pembleton looks at him a moment, incredulous. "Well then just talk to him, Bayliss. My point is, we gotta get him down here. You know that as well as I do." Bayliss is silent as he stands there watching Rowan through the one-way observation window. Suddenly she raises her head and seems to stare straight at him. "I know where my brother is, and I'll take you to him," she announces in a clear, steady voice. Pembleton and Bayliss stare at each other, Tim's mouth hanging open slightly. "Well... she's not stupid," he says slowly. "Of course she figured we would be back here talking about her brother. And I'm sure she knows we can hear anything said in there, so now I'm gonna go in there and stare at the mirror for the next twenty minutes to make sure I can't see through it." "Nuh-uh, Tim, you're gonna go in there, get her statement, and then get her to take us to Jeremy Logan. Then when we get back you can have *him* inspect the mirror for errors, ok?" Frank says with a rare smile. Bayliss returns it with one of his own. "Yeah, Frank, that sounds like a plan." --------------- An hour later, Bayliss, Pembleton and Rowan are on one of many offshoots of Charles Street in search a certain rowhouse. Rowan doesn't know the address, but claims she'll know the house when she sees it. The two detectives are rather skeptical, to say the least. "Wait, there it is!" she cries, pointing out the window. "That's the house Jeremy and his best friend are renting." "Are you sure, Rowan?" Bayliss asks patiently, casting a glance at Pembleton, who has been way too quiet through the drive. "Yes, I'm sure! Come on, I'll knock." She jumps out of the car and hurries up the front steps. Bayliss runs to catch up with her and grabs her hand before she can rap upon the door. "Why are you so eager about this?" he asks softly. She looks up at him, eyes bright. "My brother is innocent, detective. I want you to talk to him so that you can be as certain of that as I am." Still holding her arm, Bayliss watches her for a long time, his green eyes staring down into her dark brown ones, trying to learn what secrets she hides. He lets her go abruptly and knocks on the door himself. "Jeremy," she calls with a strange glance at Bayliss, "it's Ro. Are you there?" Silence. "Hey, Jer, come on, let me in. We seriously need to talk..." "Do you think he's here or not?" Frank demands from behind them. "Only one way to find out," she says, pulling out a key, but testing the door knob before sliding it into the lock. To her surprise - and horror, it must be admitted - the knob turns easily in her hand and she pushes open the door. Bayliss looks back at his partner and shrugs, and they both follow her into the house. "Jeremy? I wasn't sure if you heard me, so I let myself in." There is still no answer, and Rowan moves quickly from room to room, her concern mounting. To her, it is the replay of a nightmare. To the detectives, it's humanity at its most poignant, hope personified, fear brought to life. "This is way too much like déjà vu," she whispers, moving to the stairs. "You guys coming or not?" she calls down to the two detectives. She seems casual, almost blasé, but a seasoned detective can almost smell panic; at this moment Rowan Logan is on the verge of snapping like a dead branch in a winter freeze. "Do you think he's up there?" Bayliss asks Frank softly. "Yep. Do you think he's alive?" Pembleton questions. "Nope," he replies grimly. "Well then, let's go do our job. Yeah, Rowan, we're coming," Pembleton says, following her and Bayliss up the stairs. Rowan makes her way slowly down the hall, opening doors as she passes them. "Jeremy?" she calls again. "Listen, hon, everything's going to be ok. I guess you know the police are here with me, but they aren't going to do anything to you. They just want to talk to you and I just -" She stops suddenly as she opens the final door and sees what she knew she would but prayed she wouldn't. "No! Please no, not Jeremy! Not Jeremy too!" She starts to run into the room, to her brother's mutilated body, but Bayliss grabs her. "Rowan, stop. It won't do any good," he says urgently. "No, let me go... please, Tim, let me go! He can't be... that can't be Jeremy..." Suddenly it's as though a switch has been flipped inside her and she collapses against him, crying as though she will never stop. He puts his arms around her and murmurs comforting little nothings. "Gee said she would cry eventually," Pembleton whispers, hating that he must bear witness to this girl's suffering. Bayliss suddenly grabs Rowan's arms and pushes her away from him. "Listen to me, Rowan, this is important." She wipes her eyes and looks up at him, knowing what he's about to ask. "No! I don't know who would do something like this, and I don't know anyone who would want to come after me. If this had something to do with my father's business dealings, then the murders wouldn't be this violent. I know enough about the world to realize that hit men don't generally take the risk of viciously stabbing their victims like this!" "You have to have some idea about who might have a vendetta against your family, Rowan," Pembleton says reasonably. "I'm gonna go call it in. You two stay here and work this out." Frank is a perceptive man, and he can tell that Rowan and Bayliss have some sort of connection - perhaps because they both were victims of sexual abuse, though he's sure Bayliss would not have told her that yet. He actually doesn't quite know *what's* going on, but he does understand that she's more likely to open up to Bayliss. "Why do I have a feeling you haven't been completely straight with me, Rowan?" Bayliss demands once Frank is gone. "Damn it, detective, I've done my best! I told you more truths than I've ever told anyone, and I didn't have to do that." "I can't find out who is doing this unless I know the whole story. I accepted what you said, and you told me that was all. You lied to me, Rowan, and I don't like that." "I never lied to you, detective!" she says heatedly. "I mean, God, of course I don't know who would be doing this. Yes, there are people out there who don't like what my father stands for, but this... this is extreme." "Anyone, Rowan... an ex-boyfriend of yours or an ex-girlfriend of Jeremy's... or did your father ever have an affair? Or your mother? Who shares this house with Jeremy? Just think!" She slowly shakes her head. "My mother never would've had an affair - it might put her marriage in jeopardy. I doubt my father would have either - what was the need? Jeremy has a girlfriend, but no exes... as far as I know he and Sherry are doing fine. "Jeremy's best friend, Alan Bryant, lives here. But I can't imagine Alan ever hurting a fly, much less stabbing his best friend like this." "And?" he prompts after a few moments of silence. "And what?" she asks irritably. "Ex-boyfriends, Rowan. Please don't dumb up on me now." She glares at him. "I am not 'dumbing up' on you, detective. I simply have no desire to answer the question because it's completely irrelevant. My father sent me to an all girls college to keep me away from any potential boyfriends, and it worked. I have guy friends, but no boyfriends." "And why do I have trouble believing that?" "Because you're a skeptical homicide detective who doesn't realize that every half decent guy in Baltimore is either taken, gay or turns out to be a psycho?" she counters, her tone acidic. "No, I realize that. It's the same way with every half decent woman in Baltimore. One of those you mentioned, or she's too young," he says with a half smile. "Isn't it against the rules to flirt with someone involved in a case you're investigating?" "Who says I meant you?" "Wishful thinking, I guess," she replies dryly. "How would you know they're psychotic unless you've dated them?" he asks suddenly. She rolls her eyes. "Fine, detective, you've caught me: I'm not a nun! I've been on dates and I've known some guys. However, I don't think any of them would be interested enough to kill my family over a break-up." "I don't know... the king of Sparta sent a thousand ships after Helen of Troy." "She was Helen of *Sparta*, detective, and his wife, and it pissed him off that some punk prince from Troy would come in and steal his favorite trophy. That's why he launched the ships." "Exactly my point." Rowan ignores him and frowns, thinking. "I don't know, you might could check out this one guy... Andrew Byers. I only went out with him a few times, but he's been kinda following me around for a while. He gives me the heebie jeebies, but I don't think he's the kind of guy who could stab three people over and over again." She shudders. "I just don't understand this... why us? God I have a headache." Bayliss moves closer and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me, Rowan: whoever is doing this is insane. He may be someone you know, but then again... he might have read about your father in the newspaper and disagreed with something he said so decided to kill the whole family off. Or he might have picked your name out of the phone book, completely at random." "Yeah," she says angrily, "like in The Jerk. How completely appropriate." "Look, I know this pisses you off, but you can't let this nutcase get the better of you. You're strong, and you can make it through this. I know you can." She looks up at him, eyes narrowed in thought. "You don't even know me, detective. How can you say that?" He shrugs and turns away, pretending to assess the crime scene. "I know you, Rowan. We're a lot alike, and in more ways than I think either of us realizes." Pembleton returns, a pair of latex gloves in each hand. He tosses one of them to Bayliss and they lean over the body. "Same MO as the other two," Pembleton says after a moment. "Looks like a straight blade, too; Julianna can confirm that when she gets here." "Who's Julianna?" Rowan wants to know. The two detectives look back at her in surprise, almost as if working the murder has caused them to forget about her. "Julianna Cox is the Chief ME," Bayliss explains shortly before returning to work. "I didn't see any blood trails in the hall..." "It's obvious he was killed right here. No defense wounds... damn, the kid was sound asleep, just like his parents." Bayliss lets out a long sigh. "I guess I'll take this one too." Frank looks at his partner from across the body and says softly, "Tim, do you think this'll go down? I'll take it if you want me to." He shakes his head. "Nah, Frank, I gotta do it. It'll go down." "I've heard that from you before." "This isn't Adena Watson. I think I've learned a thing or two since then," he says hotly in reference to his first case as primary; the little girl's brutal murder has haunted him for years, mostly because it still remains unsolved (or "didn't go down," to quote police vernacular) despite everyone's - most of all Tim's - best efforts. "My concerns have nothing to do with Adena," Pembleton replies with a pointed gaze in Rowan's direction. Bayliss glances over his shoulder at her and then looks back at his partner. "Rowan Logan? What are you talking about? She's just a kid." "I think we both know that's not true." "Look, Frank, whatever concerns you may have are groundless. I'm a professional and I'm assigned to work this case, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do. It's my job and I'm good at it, and no girl - pretty or not, related to the victims or not - is gonna change that." "Whatever you say, Bayliss. I'm gonna go start interviewing the neighbors." "Fine, Frank," Tim replies. As Pembleton leaves, he squeezes Rowan's arm in a gentle reassurance that surprises them both. She smiles up at him wearily and he smiles back. "You're gonna be just fine, Rowan." "Thanks, Detective Pembleton. I'm sure you're right," she replies, her dark eyes still sad but with a glimmer of hope that was absent before. Bayliss stares at Rowan, a look of consternation on his face. "I try to reassure you and you second guess me all over the place, but Frank says one thing and suddenly you're Miss Optimism?" he says once he's sure his partner is out of earshot. She rolls her eyes and leaves the room, suddenly unable to stand another minute in there. Bayliss follows her. "Hey, I was talking to you! What, my supportive words aren't good enough for you or something?" Rowan turns on him, angry. "Listen, Bayliss, you apparently have some issues you need to work out with Detective Pembleton, and I don't want to be dragged into the middle of them. I can tell he's not the type of man to usually offer things like that, reassurances and the like, so it means a lot that he would." "Since when is it a bad thing to be supportive?" he cries, following her down the stairs. "Why do I feel like I'm in some sort of relationship with you, detective?! I just meant that when someone isn't the type to do something for someone else, it's all the more meaningful when he does. Which is not to say that I don't appreciate it when you're nice to me, because I do, it's just that it's in your nature to be like that... see?" He frowns for a moment, considering. "Well, ok. So that was a compliment, right?" he asks, the teasing tone back in his voice. "You just gave me a compliment, didn't you?" She throws her hands up in the air and turns away, angry, but not at him, though it is he she chooses to vent on. "My brother is lying dead upstairs and you're down here flirting with me! Somehow that doesn't seem like the way things are normally done." Bayliss is suddenly very quiet. "When you work murders for a living you have to come up with ways of coping. You make crude jokes or you say stupid things... but the point is, you do what you have to do to separate yourself from it. I'm sorry if I upset you, or made you think this doesn't matter to me, because it does." She turns back to him, her eyes soft. "No, I understand. Jeremy would probably appreciate your ability to flirt over a dead body anyway. He was kinda strange like that." Rowan smiles at him, but then glances toward the kitchen. "I should probably call Sherry... I don't want her hearing about this on the news... and I guess y'all will need to talk to her anyway, won't you? So... I'll just go do that and let you do your job." She turns away, but catches herself and says, "I'm sorry, Tim. I know this job isn't an easy one, and I'm way out of line to judge you for the way you work your murders because I know I could never do it." With that, she hurries into the kitchen to call Jeremy's girlfriend. Once there, Rowan just stands before the phone, trying to remember Sherry's number. *What's wrong with me?* she wonders angrily. *They're dead. Momma, dad, Jeremy... they're all dead and I'm thinking about...* She won't let herself complete this thought and instead turns to the refrigerator, hoping Alan and Jeremy have left *something* edible in there... or at least a bottle of water. A jar of mayonnaise. A package of Kraft Singles, each piece of rain-slicker cheese grown hard and transparent yellow at the corners. A pizza box she doesn't even dare to touch. The light buzzes annoyingly and she closes the door again with a sigh, turning away to pace around the room. He's paid to be nice to her. Not directly, of course, but he needs information and the best way to get it is to treat her well. *He's paid to be nice to you,* her mind repeats over and over. *But he's not paid to *flirt* with you.* The thought stops her mid-step. She laughs a soft self-mocking little laugh. "As if, Ro, as if," she whispers softly, picking up the phone and dialing Sherry's number. End part 3/8