by Nic Roberts
“Sorry,” Dean muttered, covering his mouth with a fist. “Just the image of her and then thinking of butter, and I...”
“I should be the one apologising,” Elliot cut in. “Sometimes I forget that I’m talking to real people and not my techs who have seen all kinds of mutilation. My fault.”
Olivia smiled at his apology.
“You’re okay, Doc,” Lawrence replied, seemingly finally getting a hold of his gag reflex. “Cutting through flesh like butter. Got it.”
Dr. James nodded.
“Good. And as far as the head bashing, it was a blunt metal object. Beyond that, I don’t have much,” he sighed. “I’m wrapping up the autopsy report, but I should be able to fax it to you this afternoon. Of course,” he paused, capturing Olivia’s gaze with his own piercing green eyes. It floored her to meet his gaze in such a way, even in the midst of discussing a gruesome crime scene. “That is, assuming you’re okay to inform DC Harris by that time.”
Lawrence turned to look out of the internal office windows to the rest of the team at work.
“We’ll talk to him right after this,” he agreed, catching Olivia’s eyes. She gave him a gentle nod, head slightly tilted.
“Right, well,” Elliot sighed. “That’s what I’ve got for you this time around.”
He rubbed his hands together, preparing to leave.
“This is all incredibly helpful, Elliot,” Olivia agreed, moving to open the door to her office. “Thank you for taking the time to come down. We really appreciate it.”
“Well, saves you a journey,” he replied. “Any time, detectives.” The hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips, and Olivia did her best not to blush as he brushed past and ducked out of the office. She watched as he wandered through the bullpen before disappearing down the hall, the weight of the bombshell he'd dropped lingering long after he went.
10
“Fuck,” Liv muttered, turning to Lawrence.
“Fuck indeed,” he sighed in return, widening his fingers to set his head in between his thumb and index finger, to gently rub his forehead.
“You’re close with Tim—do you want to be the one to tell him?” Olivia asked as she looked to her partner. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs. One thing was certain; sleeping at the Newquay Police Station, while helpful for the sake of the case, did not exactly make for a good night’s rest.
“I think I have to,” he replied in exasperation. “I don’t know how involved they were. My impression was it was just a few dates. Still, it’s Tim. It’s going to be a blow, either way.”
Olivia nodded. Even she knew that Tim was a gentle soul.
“Do you want me to be in the room when you talk to him?” she probed, gently searching Lawrence’s face for answers. All she could find was confusion and pain.
“Yes. Maybe it’s best if you’re there too,” he replied after a pregnant pause, rife with indecision. “Just in case—” He cut himself off before completing the sentence, but Olivia understood clearly what he meant. Just in case I’m blindsided by our friendship and miss something.
In the short space of time that she’d worked there, never had she imagined anyone having the need to question Tim’s integrity.
“Of course,” she replied, sinking down into the chair behind her desk. “I’ll make myself as unobtrusive as possible and won’t talk unless you need me to.”
“Thank you, Liv,” Lawrence spoke, and the softness in his voice almost made something inside of Olivia break. They really needed to be getting better sleep.
“Any time, Wonder Boy,” she shot back with the hint of a smile. That earned her a huff from her partner.
“I’m going to go and grab him,” he announced, letting the file hit the desk before wheeling on his heel to open the office door.
Olivia settled back into her chair despite the restless feeling in her chest asking her to do just about anything but sit still. Dean needed her to ground him right now; she could tell. Just like he had been there for her after the news that the body found over the weekend wasn’t Alex’s, she needed to be there as he faced the messiness of having a friend involved in a murder case.
Lawrence waved over Tim, who eagerly shot up from his desk to join the detectives. Dread settled into Olivia’s stomach, deep and rooted.
“Do you two need more coffee?” DC Harris offered through the open door, and though Lawrence was facing away from Olivia, she could hear the quiet smile in his voice as he replied.
“Not right now, Tim. Thank you though,” he answered. “Could we speak with you in the office for a minute?” He kept his voice even, though Olivia new the tell-tale signs of strain on his vocal cords as he asked his friend to join them. He always had the best approach to informing people of a death.
“Of course,” Tim chimed in, voice cheery, as he stepped into the office. The door swung shut, the gentle thud punctuating the moment.
“Let’s take a seat,” Lawrence continued, gesturing to one of the three seats inside Olivia’s office. Their colleague gave an enthusiastic nod before settling across from them.
“Liv.” Tim’s greeting was warm and cordial and tugged a bit too much at her heartstrings. She gave him a smile, although even she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Luckily, the detective constable seemed too oblivious to catch on to the gravity of the situation.
“Tim, we just got some news from the medical examiner that I wanted to talk to you about,” Lawrence started. DC Harris studied his friend’s face, the first flicker of confusion making its way to his features.
“Have we got a break in the case?” Tim asked, his features lighting up. “That’s great news! Just what we needed. Did you want me to start on some interviews?”
Silence momentarily descended on the room.
“Well, what we have is a positive ID,” Lawrence replied after a moment, not really giving an answer. The dread in Olivia’s stomach tugged down—and hard.
“Well, that’s brilliant!” Tim observed. “Dr. James doesn’t hang about, does he? So, what’s next? I should inform next of kin....” Lawrence nodded in agreement, his lips pursed until the last comment.
“Tim—” He hung his head. The detective constable looked to Olivia for guidance, but she refused to let her mouth open.
“What’s... going on?” Tim asked, voice hesitant.
Someone laughed out in the main office, and for a moment, the trio used the sound of their amusement to ease the tension somewhat before Olivia caught Dean’s eye and raised her brow gently, urging him to get it over with.
“We think you might know our victim,” Lawrence sighed, leaning back in his chair to meet his friend’s gaze. A pang struck Olivia’s heart as she watched the interaction. “Her name was... Rosie Whitford.”
Silence swarmed the office, invading everyone’s mouth and nose, clutching at their throats.
“R-Rosie?” Tim eventually stammered, eyes wide. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry, Tim,” Lawrence groaned, reaching over to pat his friend’s knee. Tears brimmed at the edges of DC Harris’ eyes, though nothing spilled.
“I need a moment,” he managed to choke out before abruptly standing, pacing back and forth.
“Take the time you need,” Lawrence soothed.
They watched their colleague as he went to the external window and seemingly peered out at the street below before looking back at them.
“And you’re—you’re sure?” Tim asked, eyes toying with the idea of hope. What a fickle, dangerous friend to have, Olivia thought. Nothing was quite so dangerous as the flicker of possibility that maybe there had been some kind of mistake. That it wasn’t your loved one laying on a cold metal slab.
Lawrence nodded.
“Her dental records match,” he elaborated gently.
Tim cleared his throat, clearly doing his best to keep his emotions in check.
“If you want, we can give you the room for a bit,” Olivia offered, breaking her silence. A look from Lawrence l
et her know it had been the right call.
“I—no. Not yet. In a minute. But first—shit,” Tim uncharacteristically swore, his hands gripping the sides of his head. A large sniffle echoed throughout the room. “First, I’m sure you have questions.”
“Only a couple to start, and then we can use your help more later,” Lawrence encouraged. “This whole situation isn’t easy for me, mate.”
“I know,” Tim replied, his voice quiet. “I understand. Thank you, by the way, and please, just ask what you need.” The shock clinging to his voice was evident.
Dean cleared his throat.
“Do you know what Rosie did for a living?” he asked, his words were gentle, even as he asked the difficult questions. “Who would be best to contact?”
Tim groaned, still disbelieving that this was really happening.
“She’s a singer,” he answered, continuing to pace. “Was a singer. Shit. She waited tables to make some extra on the side, but a lot of what she did included going to different nightclubs and pubs to perform. A real free spirit.”
Lawrence pulled a sheet on paper out of the printer drawer and handed it over to Olivia.
“That’s great,” he encouraged, turning back to his colleague.
Liv quickly wrote down everything that had been said and put a large circle around the words ‘free spirit’. It wasn’t always a good thing.
“As far as contacts, she didn’t have many out here. Her parents retired and moved to America, and she had a couple of friends, but not many,” Tim continued. “We’d only dated for about a month and a half. A reeeally intense month and a half, and when she broke things off, I got the impression that was about as far as she got in any relationship.”
Interesting. Olivia thought. She’d circle that too. A serial dater, perhaps? Multiple intense partners? Wears her heart on her sleeve? She put a big question mark next to it.
“This is all really helpful, Tim,” Lawrence reassured him, a smile ghosting over his face ever so briefly. “I know it’s the worst time to ask this question, but how long has it been since you broke up?”
Olivia could almost see the recollection on his face, the glazed look of a man reliving all the good times now that he’d never get to experience them again, and her heart went out to him. She knew how that felt. She knew the pain of being asked questions when all you needed and wanted was to grieve.
“I dunno,” Tim sighed in exasperation, blinking away whatever it was he could see. “A couple of months now, I suppose. We left things on all right terms. No bad blood, but we didn’t speak much after. I mean, there was the odd meet up. It was impossible to cut ties just like that...” He made a chopping sign with his hand. “If I’d had any clue that it could have been her—” He cut himself off before traveling too far down that rabbit hole.
“It’s not worth it to beat yourself up, Tim,” Lawrence advised. “From everything she went through, it would have been near impossible for you to have identified her at the hotel, and it wasn’t like you could have stopped the murder from happening in the first place. Just focus on how helpful you’re being right now. Helping her get justice.”
Tim nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a malfunctioning children’s toy.
“She lived in a flat by herself,” he added, his eyes continually tracing the floor. “I can get you the address,” he offered, glancing around for a pen and paper. After another couple of quiet moments, he procured his phone and jotted down the details.
Olivia took it and started inputting Rosie’s information into her phone, ready to pass onto DC Epson so he could put in an application for a warrant as soon as they wrapped everything up with Tim.
“Perfect,” Lawrence insisted, rising from his chair. “Honestly. Now please. Take a few minutes to yourself. If you need to go home for a bit, I completely understand. Actually, I think it would be right to.” He gave his deflated colleague a pat on his shoulder, squeezing him in a gentle side hug for just a moment before releasing.
“I’ll uh,” Tim muttered, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’ll see where I’m at in a few,” he replied with a morose smile.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Olivia added as she rose from her own seat. “I’m so sorry that you had to find out like this. We thought it would be best coming from us...”
Tim shook his head.
“No, I’m grateful you told me,” he responded, rising from his chair. “It’s just a lot to process all at once. It wasn’t as though we’d been together years, it’s just… hard to imagine her life being put out like that, you know?”
Olivia nodded sympathetically. She knew that feeling all too well. She understood how surreal it was to know that someone who’d previously had so much life and light in their eyes would never shine again.
“You’re doing great,” Lawrence insisted, pulling back after one last grip on DC Harris’ shoulder. “We’re going to find the bastard who did this.”
“I know we will,” Tim assured the two as they made their way to the office’s entrance and opened the door.
Olivia gave Tim one last sympathetic smile. No wonder everyone was treating her strangely when they thought they had recovered Alex’s body. Instinctually, she just wanted to protect Tim, to make sure he was okay. But she remembered the discomfort that all of those watchful eyes had given her the other day, and so she gently let the door close instead.
Lawrence let out a large huff of air, causing Olivia to turn her head and look at her partner. Anguish from delivering the news to his friend etched itself deep into the creases of his face as he winced.
“You okay?” she asked, studying him. He gave her a look before blowing more air out of his lungs.
“I will be,” he replied, placing his hands behind his skull to stretch his elbows out as he walked away from the office door. “I just need a distraction.”
“Luckily, we’ve got all the info we need to get a warrant,” Olivia replied, charging forward to her desk. “I can get everything prepared and give it to Peter,” she offered behind her shoulder, without looking back.
“That would be great,” Lawrence called out, and she could tell without seeing him that he’d sunken down into a chair.
“Hey,” she murmured, finally turning to meet his gaze. His dark brown eyes reminded her of a lost puppy, confused and hurt. She let one corner of her lips turn up. “You did great in here,” she spoke, nodding with her head toward the seat the Tim had previously filled. Lawrence met her gaze once more, a mix of hope and guilt swirling behind his eyes.
“Seriously,” she insisted before turning back to the computer. “Now let’s get this warrant and catch this son of a bitch.”
11
It had taken some haggling with the court—more than Olivia had expected, considering Rosie Whitford was confirmed dead and there wasn’t anyone else listed at her residence—but by late afternoon, she and Lawrence had finally made it to Rosie’s flat, warrant in hand. The landlord who called herself ‘Gem’ wordlessly let them in, giving a little shake of her head as she opened the door.
“She was a good girl.” She sighed before turning on her heel and padding down the hall.
The flat smelled faintly of basil and was fairly tidy, all things considered. Dean and Olivia stepped inside, taking in their surroundings. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it was certainly liveable.
“Right,” Liv sighed as she scanned the room. A computer sat atop a desk just by the entrance. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled while pulling out a glove. Forensics would come down later, but Olivia was silently grateful that they got a bit of time alone at the scene. It made everything clearer when it was just the two of them together.
To her surprise, the computer opened to a home screen without any password prompting.
“No password. She was trusting,” Olivia observed, glancing over at Lawrence who was studying a bookshelf. He turned to look at her and gave her a gentle nod.
Olivia browsed through some files on the computer’s
desktop, but nothing seemed too nefarious.
“What did Tim say her occupation was?” Olivia called out over her shoulder.
“She was a singer,” Lawrence replied, much closer to her than she had initially anticipated. He was practically breathing down her neck, peering over her shoulder to look at the screen. She stared at him for a moment, watching him study the files in front of them, perceptive as always.
“You know, maybe this is because I’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowds,” Olivia started, looking around at her surroundings. “But this flat doesn’t seem much like a singer’s flat to me. She doesn’t have any music editing software on her computer or music scores. I don’t see any instruments or sound equipment either.”
“Rather odd,” Lawrence agreed, peeling away from Liv’s shoulder to pace the room once again.
Olivia pulled up a browser, diving into Rosie’s search history. There were a lot of YouTube videos, social media visits, and sites for local pubs and performance venues.
“Well, her internet presence looks more like that of a singer,” Olivia called out to Lawrence, who had started parsing through the kitchen. He merely hummed in agreement.
“Hang on, Dean,” Olivia muttered, peering closer at the screen. “She had a Craigslist ad opened five days ago…” The post had been deleted. Shit.
“I think we’re going to have to call Clara in,” Olivia sighed. “There’s definitely a lead here, but a lot of it has been buried. I wanted to give her more time to rest, but hopefully, it’ll be a quick hack for her.” Silence hung in the air, a witty response from Lawrence achingly obvious.
“Olivia,” Dean called out after a moment, his voice lurching with caution.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling herself away from the computer and toward the kitchen. Her partner stood, jaw agape, in front of the fridge.
