by Nic Roberts
They’d both been sleeping at the station since day two. Olivia had a suspicion that her mum was going to have quite a few things to say about it once the case was over, and after her abrupt exit from the family gathering, she’d frantically delivered a begrudged Earnest at her parents’ house before escaping their interrogations yet again. The poor thing had given her his signature glare, his tail swishing as he perched on her mother's favourite sofa.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Olivia had acquiesced. “I wish I could tell you more. Honestly. All I can say is it’s high priority and on a need-to-know basis.”
“And you’re sure you aren’t going to get hurt, dear?” Her mother’s voice had risen in panic as she followed Olivia around the house.
“Not planning on it,” Olivia had muttered. “I’ll make sure the Detective Superintendent calls you if I’m gravely injured.” She had meant it as a joke, but it came out caustic and harsh. Before her mother had any further chance to argue, Olivia had slipped out into the cool night, her overnight bag waiting for her in the car.
The whole world seemed to move at lightning speed; why weren’t they getting anywhere, then?
“Dr. James said he’ll have an update around 10:30 for you two,” PC Hershel called out from her temporary desk, barely glancing up. She’d been brought in to help around the office and take phone calls.
“Brilliant,” Olivia replied. “Any other leads, guys?” She scanned the crowd of half a dozen colleagues, each doing their best to contribute to the case. None of them, however, had any new information yet, so she set about organising her desk for the day. She turned her attentions to her partner. “Any brilliant ideas, Wonder Boy?” The nickname had started on night two, after the pair had shared a couple of red bulls in the office Dean had converted into his temporary home.
“Clara mentioned she might have figured out something with the footage, actually,” he replied with a sigh of exhaustion. As if on cue, Tim entered and placed two piping hot mugs of coffee in front of the detectives.
“I’m planning on keeping them coming,” he whispered with a wink before returning to the throes of a full-blown investigation.
“Thank you, Tim,” Lawrence called out before nodding his head over to Clara’s set up.
She had managed to get a full office to herself, insisting that if she had to be in this particular section of Newquay Police Station, she was going to at least need to have a strong Wi-Fi connection and space for her myriad of devices. Det. Supt. Collins wasn’t about to argue with the tech analyst and her astonishingly quick results, so he had allowed her to set up in his own office, while he occupied a hot desk.
“Morning, Clara,” Olivia called out as she and Lawrence knocked and entered the room. Clara’s short stature meant that from the doorway, all they could see were her braids and the top of her forehead as she faced her wide display of screens.
“Welcome to my lair,” she called out, reaching her hand around the impressively large computer monitor to beckon the detectives closer. Olivia grinned. That was Clara; always ready to ensnare people with her secrets.
“Anything new?” Olivia asked as she snaked around the desk to take a look at the monitor. She noticed cans of energy drinks and empty coffee cups filling the waste bin to the brim. “And are you getting enough sleep?”
“Haven’t been able to sleep,” Clara shot back, barely glancing up to look at the detectives. Her voice seared at the edges, the caffeine rushing through her bloodstream, fighting the grogginess that clearly weighed down her tongue.
“All right, well just be easy on yourself—and don’t hesitate to head home for a bit if you need a breather,” Olivia reassured her friend, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Clara’s hand shot up to meet Olivia’s, and the returning pulse gave Olivia that much more grit to keep pushing forward with the case.
“So, what have we got?” Lawrence asked, giving the tech analyst an awkward smile that Olivia knew all too well as an attempted look of encouragement.
“I’ve been working on splicing together all of the hotel footage we have from the days surrounding the murder,” Clara answered, clicking and swiping the mouse to bring up an array of windows on her screen. “And then tagging each person who enters and leaves the hotel.”
Olivia’s eyebrows shot up unwarranted. Leave it to Clara to take on an impressive task all on her own. Her skills never seized to amaze her.
She watched the tech analyst sort through the data on her computer.
“I’m also noting anyone who is carrying something like a suitcase or large bag,” she continued. “Something that could be used to smuggle out…” The sentence died in Clara’s throat. “Well, you know.”
Olivia squeezed her friend’s shoulder even harder.
“That’s brilliant, Clara,” she insisted, trying to decipher the movements on the screen. She had at least twenty different individuals screen grabbed, all with various bags.
“Right, well last night I realised I should also try and monitor who came in and out during the time frame of the hotel room,” she offered. “There’s only 36 hours between the room being logged in the system as occupied to when the body was found.”
Olivia looked to Lawrence. Do you understand what she’s getting at? she tried to ask with her eyes. A gentle shake from Lawrence’s head meant that at least Olivia wasn’t alone in her confusion.
Clara rolled her eyes with mock exasperation.
“What I’m getting at here, guys,” she elaborated, earning a grin between the detectives, “is that the murderer theoretically arrived around the time the hotel key was issued and left between 1 a.m. and 9 a.m. which narrows it down to five guys and a woman.”
“Oh! That’s amazing,” Olivia insisted, wonder growing in her eyes.
“Three of the men didn’t have enough pocket or bag space to carry out three fresh organs.” Clara’s nose scrunched up as she mentioned the killer’s trophies—not that Olivia could blame her. “So, I flagged the two men and the woman that fit the criteria, and I’m currently running their images through facial recognition software.”
“Nice one,” Lawrence sighed, giving Clara a pat on her shoulder. She attempted a smile up at him—the first time she let herself look away from her screen since the detectives entered the room—and Olivia saw fully the exhaustion written across her face.
“Clara,” Olivia started, concern pursing her lips to the side. “We’ve got to wait for facial recognition before we can follow this lead any further. You should really go home and get something proper to eat and just get under those covers.”
“I don’t—” Clara began to protest, but the argument died in her throat. “I guess I can set my system to alert me when we have a match so I can rest for a bit.”
Olivia smiled at her dedication.
“You absolutely can,” she encouraged. “And even better, you can have your system notify us, and we’ll call you in if we need more of your tech magic.”
Clara muttered something under her breath, a curse of some kind, knowing the tech analyst, but after a few quick keystrokes she pushed herself to standing.
“Can we have someone drive you home? You seem exhausted,” Lawrence spoke, his voice smooth and calm.
Why not,” Clara exhaled, picking up a brilliant emerald handbag and slinging it over her shoulder. Lawrence was already making his way out of the office and waving over Diana Hershel.
Clara’s eyes widened a bit as the police constable approached.
“Does Dean know?” she hissed under her breath, so only Olivia could hear her. There was a challenge in her voice, an I-know-you’re-partners-but-if-you-told-him sort of challenge.
“I haven’t mentioned a word,” Olivia reassured her through her teeth. She smiled up at the woman in question as she stepped into the office. PC Hershel barely acknowledged anyone else was there, her eyes immediately meeting Clara’s.
It was then that she realised she’d never seen the two in the same room together sin
ce they’d started dating, and now that she had, she was amazed that they were managing to keep their relationship under wraps from the whole of Newquay Police Station.
Of course, Diana had been at Susan’s party, but they’d managed even then to keep their hands off each other. Now though, electricity seemed to radiate between the two, and PC Hershel’s face softened and opened up in a way Olivia had never seen from the young officer. Likewise, Clara suddenly became fidgety, and her boisterous self-assurance seemed to go from a boil to a simmer, instead replaced with a quiet giddiness.
Olivia made a mental note to grill her friend about it more at a later date. The last that she had heard, they were a casual thing, but this felt much more… real.
Biting her lip to conceal the smile rising to the surface, Olivia ushered Clara forward and away from the desk.
“Diana, you’re almost off your shift, right?” Lawrence asked.
“Just about, sir,” PC Hershel agreed.
“Brilliant,” he said back. “If you could make sure Clara gets back safely and that she isn’t smuggling various electronics in order to work from home, I’d be much obliged.” Lawrence gave her an encouraging smile. The poor man was completely oblivious, making it that much harder for Olivia to hide her amusement.
“I think I can arrange that.” The young constable sighed, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she gazed intensely at Clara, who was making an intense show of sorting through her handbag once more.
“I can drive myself home,” Clara insisted, as she looked up at Hershel.
“It’s really no problem, Miss Fitzroy,” Diana replied, her voice almost lilting in a sing-song sort of way. Is she—is she flirting right now? Olivia thought to herself, entirely engrossed in the exchange happening in front of her.
“You’ll be all right,” she whispered, giving the tech analyst a reassuring squeeze.
“Well, if you insist on driving,” Clara sighed, flashing her colleague a big grin. It didn’t leave her eyes even as her lips released down.
“It would be my pleasure,” PC Hershel returned with a smile.
“Go on, you two,” Olivia sighed, grabbing Clara’s arm briefly to whisper in her ear, “go relax.” Her friend shot her a dazzling smile before practically skipping out of the room.
“I’ll check in later, detectives,” Diana called out over her shoulder. “And I’ll make sure she’s not getting too distracted with her gadgets.”
As the two women receded into the background, Lawrence joined Olivia next to Clara’s desk.
“Did something seem… off about those two to you?” he asked, befuddlement clearly scrawled across his features.
“Who Clara and PC Hershel?” Olivia asked, glancing over to her partner’s pale face and meeting his dark brown eyes. “Not really.” She pursed her lips as she shook her head in an attempt to avoid bursting out laughing.
“Huh,” Lawrence huffed. “Well, let’s get those images printed and then get ready for our meeting with Dr. James.”
“Absolutely,” Olivia agreed, heat rising to her cheeks as she was reminded of their oncoming meeting with the attractive medical examiner. “Hopefully, he can give us a good lead.” She sighed, gesturing for her partner to lead the way out of Clara’s makeshift office.
The tech analyst’s antics had helped assuage Olivia from the troubling nature of their case, but as they exited the office, the weight of the murder pressed in on her again. It had been three days since their victim had been discovered—hopefully, they’d find her killer soon.
9
Dr James hurried into the police station at 10:27 a.m. Of course, he’s fucking punctual, Olivia thought to herself, almost exasperated at how many boxes Elliot ticked. Unlike the outfits she had usually seen him in—lab coats or crime scene suits—he wore a simple shirt and chinos today. Olivia did her best not to let her eyes linger on Dr. James’ forearms where his sleeves were rolled up.
“Detectives,” he called out, his voice strangely brisk; normally, it was calm and smooth like honey.
“Elliot,” Olivia replied, surprised by the urgency in his demeanour once she got over his initial appearance. “I had assumed we’d be making a call.” It wasn’t like Elliot to come down to the station.
“Is there somewhere private I can speak with you both?” he asked, eyes darting from Olivia to Lawrence then back again.
“Our office is right over here,” Olivia offered, guiding the group over. “What’s happened?” They stepped inside, Liv doing her best to conceal the blanket stashed under the desk.
“I believe I have an ID,” Elliot muttered under his breath so that no one nearby heard.
“What?” Olivia exclaimed, doing her best to keep her voice down. She shouldn’t be so surprised; Elliot was good at his job, after all. Still, she hadn’t expected an ID so early, and if anything, she thought it would come from Clara’s digging.
Dr. James closed the door, shutting the detectives and himself into the office.
“If I'm correct, her name is Rosie Whitford,” he explained, pulling out a small manila file with some photos, some pulled from a social media account and an amateur model website. “I pulled some strings with the local dentist offices and got a positive match on her dental records sooner than expected.”
“This—this is brilliant, Elliot,” Olivia breathed, looking over to Lawrence, who simply stood with his jaw slightly agape as he looked over the file. And despite the injuries Rosie had sustained, Olivia could picture how, when reconstructed, their victim’s smashed face was a match to the young woman in the photographs. Her brunette hair and green eyes stared back at Olivia, her grin from her amateur headshot so different from the mangled body Olivia had looked at in the hotel four days previous.
“Why exactly are we discussing this in private?” Lawrence asked, glancing up at Dr James.
The medical examiner let out an exhausted sigh. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good.
“I did a bit of digging of my own before I got the official confirmation from the dentist.” Elliot replied. “Nothing serious,” he quickly added, “but I found some of her social media, as you can see. It looks as if she recently broke up with a local officer.”
A sharp inhale came from Lawrence, drawing confusion from Olivia. It was her turn to let her eyes ping pong between the two men.
“What am I missing?” she asked, brows furrowed.
“I knew that name was familiar,” Lawrence stuttered, raking his hands through his hair. “Tim was dating a Rosie.”
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“There’s no way,” she protested, trying hard to keep her voice down even as anxiety made her tone shrill and frantic. “That would be too much of a cruel coincidence!”
As luck would—or wouldn’t—have it, they’d made Tim focus on canvassing the hotel for witnesses. He hadn’t seen the body close up, not that he would have recognised her brutally smashed in face anyway, but still. What the hell were the odds?
“I agree,” Lawrence concurred. “Besides, they weren’t ever a serious thing. So much so, that I never got around to meeting her, which is probably why I didn’t…” His voice trailed off. “Didn’t recognise her body the other day, maybe.” He looked mortified, any trace of colour gone from his face.
“I had assumed it was nothing nefarious,” Elliot chipped in. “Still, you two know Detective Harris better than I do, but I figured it would be best for you two to learn about her identity privately and then decide how to notify him.”
“Thank you for the discretion, Elliot,” Lawrence muttered, glancing back down to the photo in the file once more.
“Anything else of note?” Olivia’s throat was dry as she swallowed. This case continued to become more and more sinister with each new detail.
Dr. James exhaled slowly and paused before he answered.
“I found traces of spermicide inside her, indicating sexual intercourse.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone; it amazed Olivia, how clinically they
talked about the most intimate details of someone’s life. “I can’t conclude with any certainty, but lack of any tearing suggests it was consensual.”
Lawrence rubbed at his stubble.
“I’m assuming no DNA evidence?” he asked, hope toying with his voice.
A firm shake of Elliot’s head gave the two all the answers they needed.
“So,” Olivia started, “she shows up at his hotel room, they engage in intercourse, and then after she’s redressed, he what? Blitzes her and then carves her organs out of her body?” She paced the small length of her office. “How depraved do you have to be to fuck someone one minute and then smash their brains in the next?”
Even as she asked the question, she knew it was all too common. After all, it wasn’t like the police were going out of business.
“I suppose,” Lawrence sighed, glancing to Olivia. “God, this guy is sick.”
Olivia shuddered at the thought of what Rosie must have gone through.
“Well,” she replied. “Let’s just hope she was already dead before he opened her up.
Dr. James reached over and flipped through some pages in the manila file until he pulled one out.
“I’ve written a report, but just to say she had a fair amount of red wine in her stomach and nothing else.” Elliot glanced at them both before he continued. “I did a drug panel as well as searching her skin for any injection sites. She seemed to be clean.”
“So, he’s got to be physically impressive to be able to get her down so quickly,” Olivia reasoned. “Especially if there weren’t defensive wounds. Either that or he’s skilled enough in a martial art to stun her.”
Lawrence hummed in agreement.
“Any idea on the weapon he used to cut her open or crush her head in?” he asked.
Olivia could almost feel his anger from where she stood.
“The blade used to open her up was sharp and thin,” Elliot commented. “My guess is it’s a custom blade—something fairly normal in appearance but with the ability to cut through flesh like butter.” That earned a proper gag from Lawrence, and Elliot’s eyes immediately widened in concern.
