Kiss and Hell (DI Olivia Austin Book 3)

by Nic Roberts

  Liv took a deep breath. It bothered her more than she let anyone know.

  “Understood,” she replied, curt as possible.

  “Good,” Collins returned. “Take as much time as you need before coming back. I’ll have DC Harris run support on this case until you return.”

  Another pregnant pause followed.

  “Thank you, sir,” Olivia whispered eventually.

  “There’s nothing to thank me for. Just heal,” Det. Supt. Collins replied before abruptly cutting the call.

  Olivia turned to Lawrence and Elliot, her feet filled with lead. Both men were obviously trying to give her privacy without it looking like they were giving her exactly that. They failed miserably at it, too. If Dr. James hadn’t known before, he certainly knew now.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she exhaled, looking from Elliot’s slightly tanned face to Lawrence’s pale one. “I’m so sorry I can’t be in there with you both, but DC Harris is going to assist on the case.”

  “Understood,” Lawrence agreed with a quick nod.

  Olivia turned, as if in a daze, to slowly trudge down the hallway. None of it had felt real, she realised. Only now that she had to face her family—face her mum—had the reality in all of its consequences sunk in.

  “Olivia!” Lawrence called out, jogging to catch up with her.

  She turned to look at him, his dark eyes present as always. Concern was etched across his face, and before she knew it, he was embracing her for the second time since the morning. His cologne was subtle—he smelled of sandalwood—but it brought relief to her.

  She clutched at his shoulders for just a moment before releasing.

  “I’ll call you,” she promised, and that was all she needed to say. With a turn, she made her way to the lift and willed herself not to look back. I will not be Lot’s wife. I will not turn to salt.

  Only after she’d removed the scene-of-crime attire and started her descent to the ground floor did Olivia let a single tear roll down her cheek. The day had already been difficult, and she had a sense that it was about to get ten times harder.

  5

  Despite her bright pink hair and flowing bohemian dresses, Olivia’s younger sister, Camilla Austin-Hudson, lived in an upmarket corner of town in a rather sizable house with doctors and lawyers for neighbours.

  She'd married her childhood sweetheart, and ‘done everything the right way’, according to their mother. She'd met Max at sixteen, had the white wedding, and was now comfortably settled with a child whilst apparently ‘having it all’.

  Her house stood detached amongst the others on a tree lined leafy street, and Olivia took a moment after the officer dropped her off to stand under a lonely oak, wanting to refrain from entering the fray for a little while longer. She could see her parents trusty Vauxhall on the drive beside Max’s Land Rover.

  Alex would have loved this house, she thought. He would have loved seeing Mills still with Max, living the dream with a child and a happy marriage. The thought of Alex as an uncle was too brutal to sustain; Olivia had to quickly shove down the image of her brother—still 15 years old, because who knew what he would look like today—hovering over Mills’ bubbly son with a smile and a rattler. He’d spoil the child rotten; that much, Olivia was certain.

  Dwelling on the past was something Olivia had worked very hard to overcome. She’d much rather run from her ghosts than face them. Still, it was good to have moments of retrospection.

  Withdrawing from the tree like a cat, quiet and nimble, Olivia made the resolute march up to the front door. What had Detective Superintendent Collins meant when he said that news was coming soon? What did soon mean? A couple of minutes? An hour? Dread dug its teeth into the pit of Olivia’s stomach, establishing its residence for the foreseeable future.

  Mills answered the door moments after it was knocked, and her sad face lit up briefly when she saw her sister stood on the doorstep.

  “Livvie!” she cried, pulling her over the threshold and wrapping her arms around her tightly. With some people, Olivia was reluctant to hug back. With Mills, it was immediate.

  They'd always been close. Almost like twins at one point, really. But marriage and children had changed that. Either way, it was strange that they’d seen more of each other when Olivia had lived in London five hours away than now only thirty minutes down the road.

  Mills put her older sister at arm's length and looked her over. Her green eyes—mirrors of Olivia’s own—held so much grief yet so much hope. Even dressed in abnormally dark colours for her vivant spirit, Mills looked chic and compelling.

  “If it’s him,” she whispered so the rest of the family didn’t hear, “at least we can finally put him to rest.”

  Olivia nodded vigorously, relief at the fact that Mills felt the same way as her. It wasn’t easy to lose a brother; not knowing what had happened to him had been even harder.

  Mills' husband and finance executive, Maxwell Hudson appeared into their black and white floor tiled hall. He was ruggedly handsome and everything that Mills had dreamed for in a life partner. His dark blue eyes lit up at the sight of the sisters’ reunion.

  “Detective!” he smiled.

  Olivia returned the grin at his formal address. It was a name he always insisted on calling her as the simplest of jokes, one where the precise origin had been long since forgotten, yet it still held the same joy and delight. His greeting, old and comfortable, thawed the darkness of her visit. Silently, she thanked him for keeping things normal despite the bad news.

  Being her sister's childhood sweetheart, he'd known Alex quite well. And he'd been at her parents' house the day he hadn’t come home, all those years ago. She’d been off at Uni when the news broke, but Max had been right there by her family’s side until she could return home.

  Just the memory made her shudder.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, gesturing to the kitchen. “Your mum and dad are in the conservatory with Claire if you want to go through?”

  Olivia looked at her sister, eyebrows raised.

  “Claire?” she hissed. “As in Claire Williams, Claire?”

  Mills chewed on her bottom lip, her vibrant hair tied up in a high messy bun and wrapped with some kind of Cath Kidson or Laura Ashley head tie. She'd always been the prettier of the two, and this settled happy family life suited the hell out of her. She was practically glowing despite clearly being in a fair amount of distress. Her cheeks were always rosy, never ruddy, and her eyes shone even in despair.

  Mills gave Olivia a measured nod as if to warn her not to get into it.

  “You know what it’s like,” she answered. “Word got around when they saw the police at mum and dad's, and she insisted on showing up.”

  Olivia ran a hand through her hair.

  Claire Williams had been Alex’s girlfriend at the time he'd disappeared, and a lot of people had blamed her. Liv’s family understood why. Her brother had been at her house when, after a stupid teenage argument, she'd kicked him out and made him ride home in the middle of the night. Only, he'd never made it back, and Claire had never forgiven herself or gotten over what had happened. What made it stranger was that the woman had since married and had three children.

  Olivia couldn’t help but feel like if things had been different, Claire would have been married to Alex right now, with a bustling family of their own. She understood Claire’s wish to stay connected through it all, but it didn’t make her chest ache any less every time she set eyes on her.

  “Best not to start anything,” Max warned giving her a look. “Your mum is already dealing with a shit ton as it is.”

  “She’s not going to start anything, are you, Livvie?” Mills defended. “As a family, we've put that behind us. The only person responsible for Alex’s death is the person who killed him. We know that.” It was moments like this where Olivia wondered if Mills had forgotten that Liv was indeed the eldest and therefore had authority on matters of rivalries and forgiveness. Not that it mattered much; Mills was righ
t, even if Olivia didn’t like the way she talked down to her as she said it.

  “He's not dead.” The firm voice of Mrs. Austin made them all stop and turn around. Olivia’s mother had aged drastically since her boy went missing fifteen years ago; her hair, originally a thick dark red, had its fair streaks of white that she often covered with dye. And though she was only sixty-two, her frame held her body as if it had been through decades more of strife.

  Olivia supposed it had.

  “This isn't him,” her mum insisted. “Call it mothers' intuition or a gut instinct but this can't be it for my boy. Liv...”

  She opened her arms out, crossed the hall, and gave her daughter a hug.

  “Mum...” she started, but Linda gave her a look that meant the line of conversation was over.

  “Now, let’s stop loitering in the hallway,” she sighed. “I just need to be around my loved ones right now.”

  “Of course, Mum,” Olivia insisted, guiding her mother towards the conservatory. “There’s no need to jump to conclusions until we have answers.” She shot Mills a gentle yet firm glance as she spoke. “Let’s just spend time in each other’s company.”

  “You always have such a way with words, Livvie,” her mum spoke, a wide smile spreading across her face.

  Olivia didn’t have the heart to tell her it was due to the number of victim’s families she had worked with. Is that what she was now? Just a family member, waiting with bated breath to hear the news that her brother was never coming home.

  She’d already had to process that loss fifteen years ago. And then again with Rhys just over eighteen months back… Olivia didn’t know how much more heartbreak she could handle.

  She squeezed her mother’s hand as they walked down the hall and into the comfort and dread of a family gathering.

  6

  They’d been waiting for an hour.

  A whole damn hour.

  Olivia’s knee bounced impatiently as she listened to her father tell yet another silly anecdote about Mills and Max back in the day. She loved her family; she really did. But having to kill time with them was near impossible to finish with her sanity intact.

  And what the hell had Collins been talking about when he said the results would be done soon? She had half a mind to just call Lawrence and work on the case while her family awaited more news on their probably-dead Alex.

  No, that was below the belt. The words stung as she said them and silently she apologised to the universe or whatever was out there. Her frustration had nothing to do with her lovely brother. He was one of the best parts of her life. Her gripe came from being crammed in a room of people who refused any sense of realism. Happy stories of the living were in abundance, but no one wanted to recount a memory of Alex alive. Alex living his best life. Alex and what might have become of him.

  Fuck, I just wish we would know.

  As if on cue to her helpless internal plea, the home phone rang.

  Everyone grew silent and looked to the coffee table where it had been placed. Olivia’s mum let out something between a shriek and a squeal, which her husband quickly quelled with an embrace. Likewise, Max held Mills, and Olivia again was reminded that she was alone, that she had been robbed of so much during her years. She supposed she could cling to Claire Williams if she were really desperate, but she preferred to keep her dignity intact.

  What a haphazard family they were.

  Olivia’s father eventually reached out to pick the damned thing up.

  “Should I put it on speaker?” he asked, looking around to check in with his family. After a couple of hesitant looks around the room, the family eventually gave quiet nods. Geoff cleared his throat before answering the phone and letting everyone listen in with the press of a button.

  “Hello?” he asked, his voice quivering ever-so-slightly.

  “Is this a member of the Austin family I’m speaking too?” a voice momentarily unfamiliar to Olivia asked over the phone. Interesting. Of course, she’d been at Newquay for a relatively brief period of time, but she knew most of the officers and detectives, if not by name then by voice.

  “Indeed,” Geoff confirmed, breaking Olivia’s puzzled spiral. “Mr. Austin speaking.”

  “Thank you so much for your patience,” the disembodied voice said to the family. “I’m Detective Sergeant Wilson with the Newquay CID. You spoke to one of my colleagues earlier this morning. We understand how important this time is for you and not to mention how distressing these past few hours have been for yourselves.”

  Wilson. The more he spoke, the more she recognised his gruff tones. This time it was laced with something else, though. Regret? Disappointment? Was he getting ready to deliver a blow? Olivia could tell based on his phrasing. Her core tightened, as though ready to be punched in the stomach.

  Her father, however, didn’t pick up on it.

  “Of course,” he answered. “Is this—is this regarding the Alexander Austin case? My son’s b-body?” His voice broke slightly, and he firmly gripped his wife’s hand, to the point where both their fingers were pale from lack of circulation.

  “It is, yes,” DS Wilson replied slowly. He exhaled. “Unfortunately, we’re...”

  Linda covered her mouth with her other hand and shook her head. ‘No’, she mouthed at the silent group around her.

  “Well get on with it,” Geoff insisted, closing his eyes in defeat. He looked like a man preparing for his deathblow.

  It was times like this when Olivia wished she could run into her father’s arms and give him a tight embrace. He was a gentle man and a good father, but his affections tended to be rather reserved.

  His shoulders dipped lower almost with every breath, and she closed her own eyes preparing herself for those words.

  “I understand your frustrations,” her colleague came back. “Unfortunately, we’re unable to give you any answers directly over the phone. A Family Liaison Officer is currently en route to you as we speak, and I just wanted to confirm that you were still at the address of a Camilla Austin-Hudson?”

  Geoff let go of his wife’s hand and hung his head back with a mixture of relief and impatience.

  “Very well,” he sighed. “Yes, we are. At my daughter’s house.”

  Olivia shifted in her seat. The rollercoaster of emotions they’d been through in the last two minutes alone made her feel sick.

  On the other side of the room, Max gave her a deep nod, his arms tightly around his wife, drawing circles against her arm. She had her eyes closed, bracing herself for devastation.

  “That’s good. Good,” DS Wilson answered. “I’ll...”

  Olivia zoned out the rest of his words as the sound of Mills’ fancy doorbell rang through the house. Dongs of doom.

  Everyone froze. Her mother and father looked at each other. They’d waited over a decade to find their boy, and now they were closer to finding out the answers, and it appeared neither of them wanted to.

  She understood that, because over the years, she’d gone back and forward wondering what outcome she wanted the most. Sometimes she wished he was just in another country with a new identity, but then it broke her to think he must have hated them that much to put them through all this hell, so instead she preferred to hope his body would one day be found then her mother could move on. She could stop laying the table each Christmas with a seat saved for him because they would have confirmation that he’d never fill it. And she’d never have to watch the pain on her mother’s face as year after year, she put away the unused plate and cutlery. That same present that she’d bought him fifteen years ago—still wrapped, still unopened and still laced with hope.

  “I... Um...” the sound of her father stuttering brought her back to the present. “I think they might be here...”

  “Well,” DS Wilson said. “I’ll leave you in their capable hands. We’ll be in touch, Geoff.”

  Her father was too distracted to reply properly, and after they’d all said their quick goodbyes, Max stood up and straightened his trousers.


  “I guess I should get that,” he offered, and Olivia watched him as he left the room.

  “Well, that’s not a good sign, is it?” Claire Williams moaned from her seat. She’d mostly been silent the whole time, but her face told an unfortunate picture of fear and anticipation.

  “Let’s not dwell on the negatives,” Linda answered. She paused at the sound of voices from the hall. “I feel as though Alex wouldn’t want us to lose hope...”

  Across the room, Mills shook her head.

  “Fifteen years,” she mumbled. “It’s been too long. He would have come...”

  The ajar door to the conservatory pushed open fully, interrupting whatever it was she was going to say, and a woman made her entrance. The Family Liaison Officer. Olivia recognised her instantly.

  They exchanged a knowing glance.

  “I’m Cathy Stanley,” she offered looking at each person in turn. “I’m here today as your Family Liaison Officer. Any questions you might have for the detectives, let me know, and I’m sure we can help you to—”

  Geoff stood up abruptly despite his wife trying to pull him back down.

  “Thank you, Cathy,” he said briskly without letting her finish. “I don’t know how much you know about today, but the only question we need answers to right now is, was that my son you found in the dirt?”

  Silence descended on the room.

  Cathy glanced at Liv quickly, but no offence had been taken. Their situation was already a tough one, and as their FLO, she understood that.

  “Take a seat,” she said quietly, gesturing to the one he’d risen from. “Mind if I sit too?”

  Max was by her side immediately.

  “I’m sorry, my manners are...” he started, lifting a box of photos from the only spare chair. “Please, sit here.”