Kiss and Hell (DI Olivia Austin Book 3)

by Nic Roberts

  “Wonder Boy, what’s happening?” She kept her focus on Lawrence, who stayed impeccably still.

  “I, uh,” he stammered, finally peeling his eyes away from the fridge. Anxiety shot through Olivia’s veins, pulling her feet closer and closer to the fridge. “I think our killer’s been here.”

  He said it just as she got to the other side of the refrigerator door, and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips, quickly pulling air in through her mouth. Instead of the normal perishable items they would expect for a 29-year-old woman, the fridge sat empty except for Tupperware containers holding a dark red liquid and what Olivia could only assume were half-eaten organs.

  “Fuck,” she swore, covering her mouth with her palm to avoid the oncoming nausea. The more she looked at Dean, the more she processed exactly how pale his face was.

  “We have to get SOCOs here. Now!” Olivia could hear the anxiety raising her voice, making her squeamish, and it took all the strength in her not to bolt from the spot. Lawrence needed her to be strong. She needed herself to be strong.

  “Liv…” Lawrence trailed off, his face ashy. “I think there are more than just Rosie’s organs in there.”

  It took a moment for Olivia to process what exactly her partner was saying.

  “Shit!” Olivia replied, grabbing her partner’s hand to pull him away from the fridge. He looked shell-shocked, to say the least, but he managed to turn and face her when she grabbed him. Anything was better than letting him fixate on the dark red containers.

  Giving the fridge just a glance, she counted at least seven containers. Even assuming that he still had four of the organs he took from Rosie’s body, that still left three unknown ones.

  “I’m calling Collins,” she insisted firmly. “We need to get Clara down here to work on the computer, and I want this building canvassed for any strange men who have been visiting Rosie’s apartment the past few days.” The words blurred out of Olivia’s mouth, her throat pouring out commands so it didn’t throw up her lunch instead.

  Lawrence just stared at the fridge, even after Olivia closed it. As she hurried around the flat, making calls and arranging for adequate crime scene coverage, he stood there, not a single word escaping his lips.

  She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, but as she continued to secure the flat and preserve the scene, all she could think about was the fact that after this discovery nothing felt like it would ever be okay again.

  12

  From what the forensics team could tell, there were remains from two different adults in Rosie Whitford’s fridge. DNA analysis would confirm, but they had a pair of two right kidneys to suggest it was more than just one adult whose organs had been sitting in the Whitford flat as residents walked past her door and a silent killer returned to observe his treasure trove.

  The team worked well into the night, Lawrence and Olivia setting up a temporary base at the entrance for the building. It made Olivia nervous; the more people who saw a forensic team on the premises, the more likely it would leak out to the press. And if there was one thing she didn’t want right now, it was a media storm to cause mass hysteria throughout the town.

  Still, it wasn’t as though there was room in the flat for five SOCOs and herself and Dean. The one upside was that it meant her partner had managed to get out of the flat for a while. After coffee, courtesy of an officer, and a long bathroom break, he’d returned to the site, his face looking a normal colour and eyes once again bright and alert. Olivia hadn’t said anything as he returned; she hadn’t needed to. They both knew that they had each other’s backs and that there were some horrors too real to be spoken into truth.

  Exhaustion had quickly become a factor, even despite the intense amount of caffeine the duo had started consuming. Olivia was trying every trick in the book to try and stay alert—coffee, a cold glass of water, and a quick lap around the apartment block kept sleep at bay but never removed its tempting presence entirely.

  Det. Supt. Collins emerged from the stairwell well into the night and beckoned to the detectives. Olivia hadn’t ever seen Collins visit a crime scene, so she had known it was serious when he’d arrived earlier.

  “Miss Fitzroy believes she’s got something you two should see,” he announced, voice grim.

  “Thank you, Detective Superintendent,” Olivia spoke quickly, gathering her notepad and heading to the stairs. “Clara’s lightning quick.”

  “You can say that again,” Collins grumbled. If Olivia wasn’t mistaken, she thought she saw the beginning of a begrudged smile on his pained face. “She’s lucky she’s fast or she wouldn’t be using my office back at the station.”

  Lawrence chuckled at the awkward joke, easily sliding behind Liv to follow her up the stairs. It really was amazing how quickly the two had become so in sync.

  They made it to Rosie’s floor with relative ease, quickly darting into the apartment past the jarring yellow crime scene tape. Once again, Olivia worried about the implications of too many apartment residents seeing the obvious crime scene as an elderly gentleman peeked out of his apartment to shoot glares at the team.

  Thankfully, Clara looked much more well rested than she had that morning. She really was a powerhouse. As soon as Olivia and Lawrence stepped inside the flat, she turned and beckoned them over and wasted no time briefing them.

  “First of all: this scene is… gross,” she commented with raised eyebrows. “And I expect you both to buy me a drink at the end of this case to make up for the fact that I had to sit in the same room as half-eaten human organs. Got it?” Her voice was playful even as she pointed out the clearly disturbing findings.

  “I’ll buy you multiple rounds,” Olivia promised her with a squeeze to her shoulder.

  “As will I,” Lawrence declared, although Olivia got the feeling that she’d be needing to buy him some drinks too once it was all over.

  “Great,” Clara declared, turning to face the computer monitor once again. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, boy have I got things to show you...” She closed some windows on the computer and flicked to another tab. “Good catch with the Craigslist ad, Liv,” she offered with a smile. “After some basic back tracing, I was able to find a cache of the old data, and voila, I found it.” Clara’s grin was impressive as her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up new screens and program boxes until the ad was revealed.

  Olivia sucked in a breath as she read over the text:

  * * *

  Looking to explore my kinky side with a fellow human. I’m a dominating man looking for a passionate lover. Make sure you come with an empty stomach and an empty wallet.

  * * *

  “That’s awfully bold,” she commented, eyes wide as she stared at the screen.

  “Believe it or not, that’s fairly tame for a Craigslist ad,” Clara chimed in, earning her a scowl from Lawrence and a grin from Olivia. “Not from personal experience, to clarify, just from many years of datamining,” she continued.

  “Well, whatever you say,” Olivia teased. Her friend gave her a gentle elbow jab to the ribs.

  “Anyway, whoever this guy is, he’s good,” Clara sighed. “His username doesn’t have any identifying features, and he only ever logged in at an internet café, so I can’t trace him from his IP address.”

  Lawrence scoffed.

  “So basically, a cannibal who’s savvy with technology,” he half-joked. “For some reason, I wasn’t expecting that combination.”

  “Precisely,” Olivia replied with a smirk despite the churning in her gut. Sometimes when faced with atrocity, humour was the best way to cope. “If this is our murderer, he sounds like he’s obsessed with domination,” she mused as she re-read the ad. “Even in the language of his ad, he seems less interested in gender or the specifics of who he meets—just the fact that he’s holding power over his victim.”

  “Speaking of which, he was definitely here and in Rosie’s computer,” Clara responded. “All of her personal things
have been completely scrubbed from the computer. There aren’t any photos, any school assignments, any song lyrics, nothing. I tried to recover what he deleted, but the bastard’s smart enough that he erased them past any sort of recognition.” She shook her head. “Same with her email—wiped clean. It’s as if he was trying to erase the fact that she ever lived.”

  “He’s consuming her,” Lawrence offered, voice dark. “It’s not enough to just eat her flesh—he has to take away everything that made Rosie who she was. Her career, her flat, her passions.”

  The trio thought in silence for a moment.

  “Why would our killer want to do that?” Olivia asked. “Not to mention the fact that he still left her body. Plus, he didn’t destroy the apartment. He just got rid of any identifying markers…” she trailed off. “He wants his victims to be faceless, nameless.”

  “Maybe that’s how he feels society has treated him in the past?” Lawrence conjectured, glancing at his partner.

  “That could definitely be a good theory,” she responded with a quick glance around them. “He’s tired of being overlooked, so he finds loud people and takes away everything that makes them flashy; he consumes their very being and identity.”

  Clara looked up at the detectives, eyes wide.

  “You two go to some dark places,” she sighed. “I’m impressed by the logic but also… wow.”

  “Clearly not without the backing of your expertise,” Olivia coaxed with a gentle smile. “Anything else on the computer?”

  The tech analyst clicked between some folders and browser windows.

  “Just lots of nothing,” she answered. “It’s as though this were a computer at a library or something and not Rosie Whitford’s. I get the sense he could have used it for other purposes though, so I’ll keep digging. See if he slipped up in his attempt to hide his digital footprint.”

  “If anyone can do that, it’s you,” Lawrence affirmed.

  Clara gave him a grin.

  “I’ll keep you two posted,” Clara assured them, diving into the computer again, shoulders pulled forward in an attempt to get closer and closer to the screen.

  “Was your time at home restful?” Lawrence asked nonchalantly. “I’m only slightly jealous.” Had he been looking at Clara and not scanning the room once again, he might have noticed her shoulders hike slightly. “Did PC Hershel get you back in one piece?”

  “Y-Yeah,” Clara stuttered, turning to Olivia with wide eyes before narrowing her eyes. Her glance screamed, what the fuck, Olivia? The detective only threw her hands up in defence. “Yeah, Diana’s a great driver. I felt very safe while in her care,” she elaborated, rolling her eyes at herself as she spoke.

  Smooth, Olivia silently shot back at Clara with an amused facial expression, which only earned her another death glare in return.

  “Glad to hear it,” Lawrence replied, already back to examining the scene. “Liv, take a look at this.”

  Olivia gave Clara one more amused glance before going to Lawrence’s side.

  “What is it?” she asked, bending down to meet her partner in his crouched position.

  “There’s a faint outline of something that should have been here.” Lawrence swirled a pen over a portion of the floor. “See the dust on the ground? It’s not quite as settled in this region.”

  “Good eye,” Olivia breathed. “So not only did he steal her phone, her keys, her wallet, and her photos, but he stole some of her furniture too.”

  “How much do you want to bet it was an amp or instrument of some kind?” Lawrence replied, catching her eye.

  “I’d say you’re looking to win,” she sighed, pushing herself up from her position on the floor. “Hmm, that does make me think of something though.” She walked over to Clara, who was once again fully immersed in trying to dissect the secrets of Rosie Whitford’s computer.

  “Hey,” Olivia called out gently, breaking her friend’s trancelike focus.

  “Huh?” she asked, looking up. “Oh yes, sorry. I’m sorry. What’s up?”

  Olivia gave her a warm smile.

  “Could you see if you can track Rosie’s phone? It wasn’t found at the first crime scene. I doubt the killer would be so sloppy to leave it on and on his person, but we could give it a try,” Olivia explained.

  “Absolutely!” The tech analyst replied, blazing through windows on the computer screen like nobody’s business.

  Olivia always felt a giddiness watching Clara work; there was something so intoxicating about the speed with which she deciphered devices, making them bend to her will.

  “Hold on,” Clara muttered, fingers flying freely. “I think—I have a signal!”

  “You what?” Olivia demanded, bending closer to the screen. She’d known it was a longshot when she asked Clara to search for it, so she’d assumed it would be another dead end. The fact that her colleague had actually found it caught her off guard. “Is it really that easy?”

  “Don’t jinx it,” Clara warned. “But yes, I have a location pinged. It looks like her phone is in the middle of a forest... about thirty minutes away give or take.”

  “Clara, you’re brilliant!” Olivia couldn’t help herself; she planted a quick kiss on her friend’s forehead in her excitement. “Lawrence, we have a lead!”

  “I’m sending the location to your phones now,” the tech analyst declared, triumph in her voice.

  Please be something good, Olivia wished to herself. Please be something fucking good.

  13

  Lawrence and Olivia had just climbed out of the car to investigate Rosie Whitford’s missing phone when Olivia’s mother rang. The moon hung high in the sky, providing some extra light besides the pair’s flashlights. A police car pulled up on the gravel behind them, providing backup that Liv hoped wasn’t truly necessary.

  “Damnit,” she groaned as she looked down at the screen, which earned her a furrowed brow from Lawrence.

  “You know you can answer it,” he offered, which earned him a scowl in return.

  “That’s the problem.” Olivia sighed dejectedly.

  He scoffed at that.

  “I see.”

  “I’ll be quick,” she whispered before hitting the answer button and cradling the phone next to her ear. “Call me over if you find anything.”

  Lawrence nodded, leading the way into the murky forest.

  “Mum, hi,” she answered, attempting a cheery voice.

  “Livvie, by God, I’ve been worried sick,” came her mother’s voice, buzzy from the low phone service but still distinctly her mum.

  “I’m all right. I promise,” Olivia muttered. “I promise you don’t need to worry about me.”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Sheila from next door brough a lasagne over and said that her son told her about a crime scene on the edge of Newquay. In a little block of flats,” her mother stated, concern mixing with curiosity in her voice. “Is that why you’ve disappeared?”

  Olivia sighed.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the case I’m working on. You know that, Mum.” But that still won’t stop you from asking, she thought as she moved a branch to the side with her foot.

  “I knew it,” came the voice from the other end of the line, triumphant. “Is that really all you’ve been working on? You left the whole family in the middle of our distress over Alex for a measly small crime scene? From what I heard there wasn’t even a body inside!”

  Olivia bit her lip, registering somewhere in the back of her brain that she was biting harder than she should.

  “Mum, like I said, I can’t discuss details,” she started. “I’m sorry—”

  “You’re sorry for abandoning us? Abandoning Earnest? Then say it again, sweetheart, because I’ve been distraught the past few days. How could you disappear without a word like that? In a time where your family needs you.” Hysteria was creeping into her mother’s voice; Olivia could hear it. It was classic Linda to somehow always make a situation about her.

  “Mum, I
really don’t want to argue right now,” Olivia continued, her throat stinging unexpectedly. “It’s been a rough couple of days,”

  “For you and me both, Livvie,” her mother sighed.

  There was another moment of silence, and Olivia closed her eyes, picturing the scene at Mills’. Her family huddled around the FLO, Cathy, relief and despair at the news emanating around the room. She could almost feel the weight of her own heartache at that moment even though it was days later. They’d never fully understand how the double whammy of grief she had to swallow on a daily basis worked through her mind. Her mother wouldn’t be able to process that she dealt with loss by keeping her brain busy and by not dwelling on those things and not allowing her thoughts to settle in that dark place.

  “Well,” she offered, infusing as much sincerity as possible. “I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been struggling. Honestly. And I’m sorry that I can’t be around right now, but this case… I need to be here. There are people relying on me.”

  She heard the sound of plates on the other end and what sounded like her father talking in the background.

  “I just wish you’d be there when we need to rely on you, Livvie.”

  Leave it to her mother to turn this into a lecture.

  “Mum, I know you’re upset, and I promise we’ll talk about it more soon.” Olivia could hear desperation of her own creep into her voice. “I’ll come over, but right now really isn’t a good time.”

  “You always seem to run away after a tragedy,” her mother continued, cutting straight to the bone. And her words did just that.

  In some ways, she was right. As soon as the dust had settled after Alex’s disappearance, she’d thrown herself into joining the police force, using her efforts to occupy every waking second, and then after Rhys, she’d hidden herself away, keeping her distance from everyone who loved her so she wouldn’t have to see the pity on their faces.

  However hard the words hit, Olivia did her best to keep her composure as she stalked through the forest, listening to her mother’s pleas.