by Nic Roberts
Olivia thought for a split second that Gareth was about to sock her. His fist curled, his arm raising up to deliver a blow. Her instincts told her to pull back, but her anger fuelled her forward. It was either that or her stupidity.
Beside her, Lawrence scraped his chair back ready to defend whatever would come her way, but instead of making contact with her face, Gareth brought his fist down onto the table, eliciting a hard thud.
There was another silence in the room apart from the sound of their suspect breathing heavily, forcing himself to calm down.
Lawrence gave Olivia a hard stare, and she knew he wanted to pause the interview right there. He clearly wasn’t amused with her interrogation skills.
She gave him a slow nod. Just enough to reassure him that she had it under control.
In front of her, Gareth rubbed his hands together.
“Why do you have bloody knuckles, Mr Finch?” Olivia asked, crossing her arms to look down at the man still curled over the table.
“I was repairing our shower and fell.” He spoke quietly this time, head still bowed. He was restraining himself. Trying to cool down.
Olivia glanced to Lawrence who gave a nod of approval to keep going. Their suspect could take more.
“Do you ever hit your girlfriend?” she continued, breaking the silence. The world seemed to freeze for a moment, collectively taking in a breath and waiting for an answer.
Gareth sighed.
“I used to,” he confessed, collapsing into the chair and burying his head in his hands.
Olivia let her jaw open in shock but closed it quickly. She hadn’t anticipated an answer like that coming from Gareth—certainly, he would have been more evasive.
“God, I knew it was wrong,” he groaned. “I knew it the moment it first happened, and that’s why I’ve started going to counselling. I’m trying to be better for her. For Ella.”
His admission took both detectives aback. They warily glanced at one another, unsure what to do. The knowledge that they could charge Gareth for assault and battery lingered in Olivia’s mind, though she knew now was neither the time nor the place. The man took in a ragged breath; he was crying. Olivia’s eyebrow raised a bit as she realised it.
“DI Austin!” A call from the doorway snapped Olivia out of her moment of disbelief. She snapped her head to look at none other than Clara Fitzroy standing at the entrance to the room, bright green jumper and all.
“Clara?” she asked, startled at the arrival of the tech analyst. It wasn’t often that Clara or any of the other tech people made it to this part of the station unless they were directly consulting. She made verbal note of the young woman’s entrance by stating the interruption to the recording device before turning back to her. “Everything alright?”
“You need to see this,” the tech analyst attempted to whisper, waving a small file in her hand.
She didn’t want to lose the momentum she’d built with her suspect. His admission coupled with the tears that he was now wiping meant she had him at his most vulnerable.
“One moment, Clara,” Olivia replied, turning to Lawrence and Gareth with a new urgency. Gareth seemed jumpy at the fact that there was clearly new evidence being waved around. Perhaps he thought it was a ruse.
“Mr Finch, I apologise for the interruption, but did you know that Ella had been stalked in College?” she asked, almost surprised at the question as it flew out of her mouth. She and Lawrence had talked about bringing it up, but they’d decided it was better to focus on Gareth’s alibi. He was raw, though, and that meant she had a narrow window of seeing his unfiltered reactions. Gareth’s head shot up, staring directly into Olivia’s eyes.
“You know about that?” If there was one word to describe Gareth’s reaction, Olivia would have used bewilderment. That was unexpected.
Clara fidgeted at the entrance to the interview room, the door open only a fraction.
“Do you know who it was, Gareth?” Olivia asked, bending over to meet his gaze. Their faces were mere centimetres from each other at this point. She could see it now, behind his anger, hidden well: pain.
“Even she didn’t,” he replied. There was a tone of defeat in his voice.
She sat back.
“Thank you for your willingness to come in, Mr Finch,” Olivia spoke, almost a whisper. “I’m concluding this interview at...” she checked her watch, “... 9.42pm. I’ll have one of my colleagues come in to go over your timeline with you. Now, please excuse both Detective Inspector Lawrence and myself.”
Gareth nodded, almost gently.
She looked over to Lawrence, who waited for her to stand before he did, files in hand. She glanced at Clara before turning back to their suspect.
“We’re going to do our best to find Ella,” she explained quickly. “In the meantime, if you think of anything at all that might help us, please don’t hesitate to call the station. We’ll speak again, Mr Finch.”
He gave her a weary nod before she turned to Clara.
“This better be good,” Olivia exhaled as she marched out of the room and toward the offices.
Lawrence hastily shut the door behind them.
“It is, I promise,” Clara insisted. “You think I would come over to your sad, dingy department it wasn’t?”
Olivia raised an eyebrow at that comment.
“Well?” Clara sighed before pulling out a piece of paper and presenting it to both detectives. “I think I found the stalker,” she replied, glancing from Olivia to DI Lawrence and back. Olivia let out a gentle gasp as she shifted her gaze from Clara’s face to the paper she held out. It can’t be. And yet.
16
“Samuel Mercer?” Olivia could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth, but there was his picture, smiling up at her. She started walking over to her desk to set down her files. “How certain are you?”
“Pretty damn certain,” Clara replied. “I was finally granted access to Ella Hebden’s Facebook, where I was able to go through her messages. There were hundreds of messages from a fake profile named Semi Maul. All very creepy and full of harassment. Asking her to leave her boyfriend for him, and asking what kind of fantasies she had, sending Ella her home address to prove he knew where he lived. And that’s just the stuff I can name off the top of my head. I understand why she was freaked out.”
Olivia sighed.
“The poor girl must have been terrified.” Lawrence nodded solemnly, looking over the piece of paper Clara had handed to them.
“How do you get from this anonymous profile to Sam Mercer, though?” he asked, speaking the question already prepared on Olivia’s tongue. Great minds…
“I did some more digging. I’m close with the Facebook rep, so I was able to pull some strings and find the IP address where the account originated. It was the same as Samuel Mercer’s family home.”
Olivia bit chewed the corner of her lip.
“How do you know it isn’t someone else in the household?” she asked, although the more she looked at it, the more she knew Clara was right. Sometimes, if it looked like a stalker and smelled like a stalker, it was a stalker.
“Great question, Liv.” Clara had a certain excitement in her voice, something that Olivia recognised as the thrill of the chase. Don’t let it blind you, she warned in her head. I’ve made that mistake before. It doesn’t end well. She had to keep a good head on her, not let Clara’s excitement pull her in. To do so would surely jeopardise the case.
“You see, I did a bit more digging,” the young analyst explained. “The account originated at Samuel Mercer’s family home. It was used for about six months of Ella’s final year of college before going dead. Nada until it was logged into four months ago in Liverpool, where it’s been accessed almost every day since.”
“Sam’s new apartment,” Lawrence breathed, locking eyes with Olivia. She nodded gently.
“Exactly,” Clara affirmed. “And get this. My tech guy, Freddie, glanced over it with me to make sure I wasn’t jumping hoops. No one
else in the Mercer family has even vacationed in Liverpool for more than a week in the past year. And,” her voice rose with this comment. “If you look at the username, Semi Maul. At first, I thought it was a Star Wars reference, but then I realised it’s—”
“An anagram,” Olivia breathed. “I’m Samuel.”
Clara nodded her head vigorously.
“God, you really are as clever as they say!” she said, impressed.
Olivia let that comment go and turned to the rest of the office.
“Do we have tabs on Samuel Mercer right now?” she called out to them. Everyone shook their head.
“I have one lead,” Clara offered, again pulling out another piece of paper from her file. “His parents own an Airbnb in the Cornish countryside. It’s about a twenty-minute drive from the lane where the Hebdens live and thirty-five from here. It’s supposedly closed for a little refurb this week.”
“Text me the address,” Olivia called out, grabbing her keys and coat.
“Already on it,” Clara called out.
Lawrence trailed quickly on Olivia’s heels.
“What about Gareth?” he asked. “We’ll need that timeline?”
Olivia stopped in her tracks.
Damnit, in all her excitement she’d forgotten about him.
“Timothy!” she called over her shoulder to where her loyal Detective Constable was sitting. “Could you do me a favour, please?”
He jumped up from his seat and made his way over to her.
“I need you to go to Interview room three where Gareth Finch is,” she ordered. “See if he wants to get settled at the B&B for the night. Don’t let him see any evidence though. He’s not off the hook yet.”
DC Harris nodded.
“Of course!”
She gave him a brief smile before continuing out from their office and down the stairs, all the while her head swimming.
Samuel Mercer, golden boy and caring ex-boyfriend. In charge over the kidnapping of Ella Hebden?
“Well, we were right about one thing,” Lawrence sighed as they moved toward the door. “It was most definitely a crime of passion.”
“The only question,” Olivia breathed, looking to her partner, “is if she’s still alive.”
“I guess we’re about to find out,” Lawrence shot back, barrelling though the exit into the cold car park.
Olivia let hope swallow her whole as she stepped into the cool evening air and looked up to the stars. Only time would tell.
17
“Why would he create the fake profile if he was already dating her?” Lawrence asked as the duo raced through the Cornish countryside towards the address provided by Clara.
“Maybe he was jealous. Paranoid. Men do odd things to try and keep control over the people they view as belonging to them,” Olivia sighed. Her foot on the accelerator pressed them further into the night. She had used the siren to get through town, but now that they were on a deserted country road, she didn’t see much point in alerting Sam to their approach.
“Touché,” Lawrence replied. He had called Det Supt Collins as soon as they got to the car. Several police cars were getting ready to come to the scene from the station, as was the ambulance service and an ARV. Olivia just hoped they would arrive on scene at roughly the same time.
“What do we do when we get there?” Lawrence looked over to Olivia as he asked the question.
“Let’s approach quietly. There’s a possibility that Ella is with him, which means she could be in immediate threat. I’d rather we have the element of surprise on our side,” Olivia plotted.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Lawrence asked.
Olivia nodded grimly. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
“Our primary goal should be finding Ella,” she answered. “We should stick together, keep lights and torches off whenever possible. Move stealthily and quietly, okay?” she added, taking her eyes away from the road to look at Lawrence briefly.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. She could hear the anticipation in his voice, mixed with the fear that they were too late.
“We’ve done everything we could,” Olivia reassured him, glancing to their Sat Nav to see they would arrive in two minutes time.
“I know,” Lawrence replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything we’ve done has led to this moment. It fucking can’t be too late.”
She reached over and squeezed his forearm.
“We’ve got this,” she assured him.
“We do,” Dean nodded letting out a long breath. “We really do.”
It was refreshing to see this side of him and seeing that underneath his tough detective exterior, there was a man that cared and felt deeply for his victims. It made him much more human than he cared to let on sometimes.
“I’m really grateful that I was assigned as your partner,” she confessed, keeping her eyes on the road. She felt his hand respond in kind, covering her own with a gentle squeeze.
“Me too,” he breathed. “And I know I get passionate, but I’m okay, really. I’ll let you know if that changes,” he replied, referring to an earlier conversation the two had had where Olivia was the one being questioned at the ME’s office. She smiled at that.
“I know you will,” she replied back, giving his hand one more squeeze before returning to grip the wheel. “Now, I’m going to park here and then we can approach on foot. I’ll lead,” she offered. “We focus on finding Ella and taking care of each other. Got it?”
“Got it,” Lawrence agreed with a nod. Olivia turned the engine off, plunging the pair into darkness. Her heart beat wildly against her chest.
“We’re coming for you, Ella,” she whispered, speaking out loud the promise she had been making in her head all day. We’re coming for you.
18
Nighttime out in the Cornish countryside was nothing like the night in the middle of London. Anything could happen at any hour in London, and even when its residents settled down to sleep, it still teemed to the brim with hidden life. Out here, however, the blanket of darkness was almighty. It didn’t matter what else your plans may have been—the last drops of daylight across the fields were the last opportunity to get things done until your world was plunged into an inky blackness. Olivia rather liked the idea of it all; she didn’t need to worry about men slinking down poorly lit alleyways or the racy environment of a nightclub. Everything was quiet.
Olivia and DI Lawrence stalked quietly to the Mercer’s Airbnb. It was a lovely cottage from the photos Clara had sent them. It was two stories—one at the level of the road and one basement. The slope of the countryside made it so that the basement opened up to a backyard. Olivia signalled for the duo to wrap around to that back entrance.
As they turned the corner, Olivia halted them both. There were voices coming from the basement.
“…you know it in your soul,” a male voice spoke. Sam.
“I just... I just...think this is... a big misunder... standing,” a woman’s weak voice pleaded. Olivia’s heart dropped. That had to be Ella.
She was alive.
“How close is backup?” Olivia whispered into Lawrence’s ear, her breath quickening by the second. A small part of her had known that some sort of confrontation was entirely plausible, but this? She hadn’t been prepared for something like this. Images of that day in London flashed before her eyes. Blood. Screaming. Absolute terror.
“Still ten minutes out,” Lawrence whispered back as he tucked away his radio. Olivia swayed behind him. They needed to act now—who knew what Sam would do while they were waiting for more patrol cars? And a standoff wasn’t exactly good odds for Ella Hebden.
“Hey,” Lawrence whispered. “It’s okay, Olivia. We’ve got this, remember?” he assured her.
She nodded, swallowing before the world had the chance to collapse around her. You’re here, she reminded herself, gripping onto Lawrence’s shoulder with renewed vigour. Pay attention to the now.
The voices had quieted. They
should have been paying attention. What had transpired?
Slowly, they made their way down the bank of the garden and pressed themselves up against the wall.
Olivia craned her neck around the corner and peered in through the glass door. There was a dim light on, outlining the silhouette of none other than Ella Hebden. You’re alive, she wanted to cry out. She’d give anything to reassure the young woman in that moment that everything was going to be fine. But even she herself wasn’t sure of it. Not yet.
“Do you see her?” Lawrence hissed behind her.
Olivia nodded and pointed to the floor of the patio where some rope and masking tape were thrown and also a sack of some sort.
“Fucking hell,” her partner breathed. “It looks as though he was planning to move her.”
That had been her assumption too and thank goodness they’d got there in time. Who knows where the hell he might have taken her?
The bulky figure of Samuel Mercer appeared, and at first Olivia jumped back out of sight.
“What?” Lawrence asked.
“Sam,” she mouthed at him before taking a deep breath and peering through the window again just in time to see the young man in question pacing back and forth, his hands pulling at his hair agitatedly before he stalked off down a hallway. Now was their chance.
Without hesitation, Olivia sprung forward with Lawrence close on her tail, creeping towards the door. She prayed silently that it was well oiled. A small creak emanated from it, alerting Ella.
Her head whipped round to face the detective’s eyes wild from pain mixed with shock, and Olivia was sure for a moment that she was about to scream. She brought her finger up to her lips quickly, warning the young woman to keep quiet.
Now that she was in the room, Ella came more into focus. Her beautiful blonde hair was matted, with bits of dried blood sticking to it. She was tied to a sturdy-looking armchair, her arms wrapped behind it and ankles bound to its front legs. Her eyes were frantic, her lips chapped, and she could see a dirty rag heavily stained with blood was wrapped around her hand in a makeshift bandage. Where he’d cut off her finger.
