Lucky O'Cléirigh

....one week later....

"Lucky? Lucky, are you even listening to me?!" I pluck the headphones from my ears and pause the Russian language audio that plays through my phone as I look up from my computer's screen to see my boss, Chyna Wright, waving her hands in front of my face..

"Oh, yes! I am!" I blink at her, having no idea what she had just said, though assuming it has something to do with the latest case file she has placed on my desk..

I glance down to scan the page..

Oh no..

Nightmare's are real and I live them each and every day at work..

When I began working for 'ForenX' the city's largest forensic agency that contracts to the Darkport PD including the downtown homicide department, I knew that I'd be looking at some gruesome scenes.. But it's almost too much to take when it's the decomposing body of a young girl who's life had barely begun.. A girl who so very easily could have been me.. Abigail Brightly was just seventeen when she disappeared and she'd been missing for several months after her unexplainable abduction, vanished without a trace.. Until one day she was discovered by a couple of kayakers, floating face down in the bay..

There are no words for the kind of suffering felt by her family, or the sickness I suppressed on the day I was called in to image her autopsy..

It's gut-wrenching and heartbreaking work.. But I feel a sense of duty, as though somehow I share a kind of kindred spirit with girls like Abigail..

Perhaps it stems from the pain of being mistreated as a young girl.. Not by a stranger, but by the man who was supposed to protect and love me.. Lorcan O'Cléirigh was not a loving father at all.. He was a sick and twisted creaton, conjured from the depths of hell.. He may be long dead now, but the man still lives in my nightmares.. If not for my sister, I'd probably have ended up in a refrigerated draw at the morgue myself..

Sometimes I feel so much guilt to be the reason both he and my mother are dead..

Other days I am glad he is burning down below..

I am plagued by the questions, all my life I've tried to understand them.

Why me?

How could he do those things to me?

What did I do to deserve those terrible treatments?

The longer I think about it the more sick I start to feel. It's all just wrong.. Unthinkable..

Who could do something so unspeakably evil to somebody so innocent?

The world has never made sense to me through the lense of my life.. I am always skewed and off centre.. And I have never been brave enough to tell a single soul about those years and what I remember.. Not even Kirby, though I am certain she already knows..

I'm not very good at spilling my secrets and Kirby is even worse at asking for them. I am the only person who she seems to avoid questioning, I think so she doesn't have to face the truth..

Neither of us wants to say the words out loud, because they are so abhorrent.

But sometimes I wish I could scream them for how angry they make me.

My father was a paedophile and he ruined my fucking life.

"This is a step up for you, Lucky.." Chyna drones on about responsibility and I feel my bones becoming tired at her lecturing drawl as my concentration drifts in and out of focus.. "A chance to prove you have what it takes to work on major operations.. Detective Donovan is requesting additional imaging and since you took the autopsy shots he is specifically asking for you on this one.. I do hope you can pull it together.."

I offer her a fake self-assured nod in return.. "O'course, I can do it, Chyna."

Lies!

I don't know if I can do anything!

What if I mess it up?

Why does everybody treat me like a baby?!

Is it because I am one?

Or is there something else about me, something they can sense.. Do they know I am broken?

She considers me with a tight-lipped smile of disinterested encouragement.. "Good to know.. I'll assign an intern to assist you during prep and I'll have Wren supervise the shoot.. Don't fuck it up."

Ugh.. Wren Andrews..

I practically vomit in my mouth at the mention of his name.

I don't usually say that I hate people, but Wren is the exception to my rule.. The guy is an absolutely arrogant asshole and he has made it abundantly clear that he believes I am incompetent and undeserving.. He is always scolding me with his disapproving eye and dropping snide remarks.. He calls me 'kiddo' and pats me on the backside whenever he feels like it..

He reminds me or Lorcan..

Always touching me.

Touching me with his unwanted clammy hands.

Hands that I am too afraid to push away.

The day I no longer need to be supervised by him is the day I will call myself accomplished..

"Oh.. Um, Wren--" I stutter, tongue tied.

"Is there a problem, Lucky?" Chyna narrows her hazel eyes on me with the flick of her reddish-brown bangs..

"No mam', thank you for the opportunity, I'll make it work.." I sigh before she swans away, the tap of her heels trailing away down the corridor, leaving me with a brief ten pages long outlining all of the new evidence tags that are to be imaged by the end of working hours on Friday..

Immediately I am struck by the address printed at the top of the page...

'Lot 686, Bermuda Docks, Southport.'

It isn't lost on me that Abigail is the thirteenth girl this year whose death can be traced back to The Southside Shipyards.. It can't be a coincidence.. Can it?

Somebody is using that place as a boneyard.. Doing unspeakable things..

I marvel at the latest listings, stunned by just how many new pieces of evidence there are and I realise the detectives must have found the initial location where she was killed or at least where he body was defiled..

This is the place she likely took her final breaths and possibly spoke her last words before she was moved and her body was discarded.. Dumped from the docks into the sea as if she were worth nothing..

A sharp stress pain twinges beneath my collarbone to ache.. I take my blue-ink pen and begin making scribbled notes in the margins on how to best shoot each new piece of evidence and the equipment I will be taking to the site..

Time falls away fast as I shift through the workload only breaking concentration hours later when a sharp knock at my office door interrupts my thinking..

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK

With a jolt of fright I leap to my feet and the top of my head collides with the overhead desk lamp.. An immediate headache spreads through my skull and a blazing flush climbs my chest.. "Ow, feck it! Good God, that hurts!"

I try to cover my embarrassment with a smile but as I take a step forward I stub my toe on the leg of the chair only to trip head first, barely managing to catch myself on the corner of the desk.. Paperwork goes flying and the ceramic mug full of pens scatters to the floor..

"So sorry, Detective Donovan, I wasn't expecting to see you!" Ruddy cheeked and thoroughly mortified I drop to my knees and begin gathering everything up in a hurry..

"Didn'ee mean to give yeh' all that of a fright, Lass! Any more accidents and I'll have ye' take yeh' to the ER!" Detective Brody Donovan chuckles lightheartedly as he joins me on the floor, helping to clean up my disaster with a kind dimpled smile..

"I know! I'm such a clutz!" I laugh halfheartedly, hating that he is seeing me this way.. "What can I help you with, Sir?"

"I was jus' in the department, Dolly.. Thought I'd check in on me' favourite wee shutter-bug!" His thick Cork accent, a powerful indicator of his Irish heritage, is rugged and rolling as he carefully collects my papers into a neat pile..

"Oh.." I blush, rubbing the top of my head as I wave him invitingly to sit in one of the chairs.. "You're funny, Detective.. Please, you don't have to do that.."

Scrambling to my feet I adjust the lamp back into place and try to correct the situation by appearing put together, an impossible feat now that he has seen my clumsy fumbling..

"It wasn'ee a joke, Lucky, but that laugh sure is a lovely t'ing.." Rising to his feet he hands me the stack of papers and returns the cup of pens to the corner of my desk..

I can feel the heat in my cheeks glowing like embers, dropping back down into my seat as he takes up the chair on the other side of my desk.. "I needed a reason to smile today, Detective, so I appreciate you stopping by.."

"Agh! Please Dolly, how many times do I have to tell yeh' to call me Brody.." He beams warmly with a mischievous twinkle in his baby-blue eyes while he runs a hand back over his sandy blonde buzzcut..

"Oh, sure.. Sorry, Brody.." His name is a little sweet on my tongue and uncomfortable to say.. He isn't exactly my boss, since we work in completely different departments, but he has an air of authority as an officer of the law and he is superior to me in station..

He is kind and cute, and the most popular Detective in the downtown apartment.. Probably because he is drop dead gorgeous and has nothing but nice things to say about everyone.

"That's much better then.." He chortles in satisfaction, leaning forward to pick up one of the framed pictures of Kirby and I that sits on the desk, inspecting it with a curious glance before he polishes the dusty glass with the sleeve of his jacket..

Taking the opportunity to lean into the moment, I make a motion for conversation.. "Actually, I wanted to thank you, Brody, for nominating my services to the Abigail Brightly case.. Chyna never would have given me such an important posting if it weren't for your request.."

He waves me off with the bat of his hand and the glint of his silver watch catches my eye.. "Aye, yeh' ten times faster in processing than any of the other photographers, O'Cléirigh, that's all there is to it.. Yeh' the best woman for the job, I wouldn'ee have thrown yer' name up otherwise.."

I fold my fingers tightly together, made nervous by the amount of faith he has in me.. "You seem to be confident about it.."

"Aye, surely.." He winks in good humour as he sets the picture frame back down on the desk, climbing to his feet.. "I know a good t'ing when I see it.."

I follow, careful not to hit my head a second time as I stand.. "I s'poze I shouldn't doubt your detective skills, you'd know, wouldn't you?!"

"See, yer' funny Lass, that's why yeh' me' favourite, Lucky.." He stops by the door, tucking his hands into his pockets with a smirk..

I smile back at him.. "Keep bringing me work and you'll fast become my favourite detective, Brody.."

"If yeh' like me so much then yeh'll have dinner with me on Friday, yeah?" His straightforward proposal stuns me, catching me by surprise..

He has always been flirtatious, but never so direct.. And why on Earth would he want to go out with me?

I'm nothing special.. Nobody special..

Is this the real reason he came to my office today?

Is this why he wanted me on Abigail's case?

I hesitate awkwardly, leaning against the desk, almost spilling my pens again.. "Is that really the best idea? I mean-- we work together.. Won't people talk?"

"Let 'em talk.. I like yeh', Lucky." He shrugs.. "Innt' nothin' they can do about it.."

He likes me!

Brody Donovan actually likes me!

I can hardly believe his surargy mouth and sweet invitation..

Truthfully Brody is entirely too charming in a rough around the edges kind of way..

I'd never thought of him as somebody who might be interested in me.. I certainly didn't expect him to think of me that way..

After all, we're just friends..

But he is confident, clever, cute and funny, he also happens to be far more age appropriate as I dare say he couldn't be a day over 30..

Ugh, unlike the object of my lusting fantasies of late, Konstantin must have at least ten to fifteen years on Brody..

Damn it!

Why am I still thinking about Konstantin?

Stop it, Lucky!

The man had all but said 'no thanks' and run away from me.. He has made himself transparently clear..

He doesn't want me.. I know that.. But for some reason he still occupies so much of my headspace that it's difficult to think of anything or anybody else..

But the Detective has been the closest thing I've had to a friend since starting my job at ForenX and he hasn't been shy about showing his support for me.. We laugh together, he treats me kindly and it's not like he is difficult to look at..

Actually, he's sort of beautiful.. In a commanding 'officer of the law' kind of way..

Honestly, Brody is just my usual type of guy.. Strikingly similar to those cocky players I have fallen for in the past.. The kind of lad who I suspect would find out about my vow of chastity and no doubt run for the hills to leave me heartbroken..

But Konstantin had said I was too young.. Too innocent.. If I were to gain experience, any experience, maybe he would take me more seriously?

Ugh, no.. It sounds stupid even as I think it.. I couldn't really break all my own rules and fall into bed with Brody just to gain experience.. Sure he's good looking and all.. But no.. I didn't wait all these years to throw away the prize between my thighs I have held onto it for this long..

I am determined to save myself for the man I am going to love forever..

That is what a good Catholic girl does.

But maybe that man I marry could be Brody? I'll never know if I don't give him a chance..

I know I should tell him about my bottom line now before I lead him on.. I should warn him of the hard yards ahead because I will only hurt myself by keeping it a secret and starting a relationship with him.. But I know that routine.. I have done it enough times to know the ending.. I can't bear to see that awkward look of disappointment glaze his eyes over when his interest in me is turned off.. I can't take another man running away from me because I am not what they want me to be.. I don't need another rejection right now..

After what the Russian had done to me last week my confidence is at an all time low.. I am now and have always been so starved for affection, so desperate for somebody to love me, that really I have no choice but to lie.. I lie in the hope that I could make a man like Brody love me..

If I could make that happen before telling him the truth, it wouldn't matter.. If he loved me, he'd stay no matter what..

So like a broken doll who's ripcord had just been pulled, I say nothing about my virginity and fall back into the insanity of making my same old mistakes, chanting back to him the words I know he wants to hear instead with a smile.. "Okay, yeah, Sure.. I'll have dinner with you, Detective Donovan.."