by Nic Roberts
“Go ahead,” Lawrence replied with a nod. “We don’t want to keep you. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”
He gave them a weak smile.
“Oh, and detectives?” He called before they turned away. “Keep safe.”
He tapped his own forehead, referencing Olivia’s wound with a wink.
She gave him a warm smile in return, pleased that he cared enough to wish her well, before walking back toward the station with Lawrence.
“I think I know what rumour we should start to get our killer to trip up,” she offered under her breath.
Dean quirked an eyebrow.
“Is that so?” he asked.
She nodded.
“We just have to make sure all of our ducks are in a row before we set it in motion.”
Her partner squinted at her.
“You have too many tricks up your sleeve, Olivia Austin,” he sighed.
“Just you wait,” she chuckled as they ran up the stairs. “This one’s going to be good.”
It better be, she thought to herself. Because it’s going to be a gamble.
7
Olivia wiped her palms on the sides of her trousers as the crowd began to settle in the meeting room. After about an hour of strategising , they’d called an emergency meeting for all personnel at Newquay Police Station.
They’d done their best to make it look haphazard, rushed. They left a couple of crime scene photos up on the white board directly behind the makeshift podium where they’d directed their teams. They called Clara in—Olivia’s gut sunk in guilt as she remembered that they’d brought her friend in essentially as bait—and encouraged her to look as put together as possible.
She spotted their three police suspects milling throughout the room: Joel Turner, Seamus Doyle, and Victor Wright. Constable Tim Harris had quietly left thirty minutes prior to pick up Riley O’Connor and Ethan Brown after confirming their locations. Detective Superintendent Collins had insisted on joining him.
Everything was in place.
She just had to make sure not to screw it up.
“Thank you, everyone, for gathering so quickly,” she began, leaning into the podium’s microphone to increase her volume. The officers started winding down, turning their attention to her. Hopefully, they couldn’t see the beads of sweat starting to gather on her forehead. Or if they did, they just chalked it up to exhaustion.
“This has been a really difficult week, so I just want to start off by thanking you all for your tireless dedication to the job,” Olivia announced, studying the crowd. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew that Dean stood behind her, surely arms crossed, also observing for any irregular behaviour.
“I know all of you have heard by now about PC Hershel’s kidnapping and the dumping of yet another female body at the front of our station.”
Murmurs ran throughout the crowd. All three of Diana’s classmates seemed to stir at the mention of her name. Which one of you is it? Olivia wanted to ask point blank. Who took her?
Instead, she let herself take another deep breath.
“Well, despite all of the tragedy of today, I’m excited to announce a breakthrough in the case.” That really got the crowd riled up; eyes widened in curiosity, everyone ever-so-slightly leaning forward to listen closer to Olivia. Weave the web, she assured herself. Spin the tale. Lay the trap. Then all you have to do is catch him.
“Technical Analyst Fitzroy was able to locate a signal on a fitness tracker that PC Hershel was wearing at the time of her abduction. We’re working with the company and GPS as we speak to narrow in on her location, but we have every reason to believe that we’ll have her exact whereabouts within the next half hour or so. Really, any minute.” Olivia let her voice speed up as she continued to divulge the information.
It was a huge bluff.
Huge.
“How are you sure she still has the fitness tracker on?” someone called from the crowd.
Olivia nodded.
“Great question.” She glanced back to Dean. “It currently has a heart rate reading running in real time.” That got audible gasps from the audience.
“But couldn’t it be on someone else?”
“That’s possible,” she responded, but we have to work with what we have at the moment, and this is our best lead yet. Even if it’s no longer on Diana’s person, it could be another massive clue.” Maintain a steady voice, Olivia. Calm and cordial.
“Forgive the scepticism, Inspector,” someone spoke up, “but it seems odd that a killer as organised as this one would simply overlook a fitness tracker. I’m not sure I trust that.”
The comment came from Seamus Doyle. Olivia locked eyes with him and prepared to respond.
But not before Clara could interject.
“Detective Austin is being generous on my behalf,” she answered firmly. “It’s not exactly a fitness tracker. More of a—a tracking device.” The crowd stirred again. “I got nervous about her being out on dangerous cases, so I gave her dress code compliant earrings that have a chip in them.”
Olivia wanted to congratulate her friend on her acting ability; Clara was doing a much better job of selling the lie than she was.
“I acknowledge that my decision is highly questionable on a moral level,” she continued, “but what can I say? I’m a highly anxious person who watches her colleagues get into dangerous shit all the time. Forgive me for being a somewhat nervous girlfriend.”
More murmurings echoed from the crowd, many of which from people who had no idea they were an item.
“That’s all to say, it isn’t a powerful signal, but we’re working on it,” Dean finished from behind. “And she’s confident that we’ll be able to use them and find Diana by tonight.”
Clara beamed at that statement, really beamed. Olivia nodded, taking control of the podium again.
“We’ve split you all into three teams, and each team will spread out across town to pre-approved bases. There’ll be a leader for each one, and as soon as Miss Fitzroy has coordinates, the nearest team will approach while the others will provide backup. This man is dangerous, so we don’t want a hostage situation that could escalate poorly.” This part of the lie felt much more comfortable; it rolled off of Olivia’s tongue much smoother. “Teams are posted here; report to your team leader for assignment.”
As she retreated from the podium, she allowed herself one good look at Clara. She gave her friend a quick nod. You did so well, she tried to convey. The smile she returned could only mean one thing: I know. Now let’s catch him.
8
It was cold. Too cold.
Hershel let herself drift out of consciousness eagerly; it was easier than hearing Katie’s screams continually echo in her ears.
Initially, she had wished she had any sort of clue to go off of. A light from a window. The layout of a room. Anything besides pitch dark and cold, wet stone.
But all that she could focus on was the echo of Katie’s cries, continually looping in her ears, a haunting melody that she tried her best to erase. And even worse, the noises after she was gone. She couldn’t cover her ears to avoid it, couldn’t pinch her nose to escape the stench of fresh blood.
Not even the pain from the gash in her shoulder would stop it.
So, it was best to let herself drift, barely floating above consciousness.
It had taken her a while after Katie had been dragged through the door to realize that her captor had actually taken the time to bandage her wound.
The visits had stopped after her captor had dragged Katie off.
“Come get me!” Hershel had shrieked after the door slammed shut again. “Come face me like a man, you coward!” Her memory was still fuzzy from the night before. All she could remember was getting a text from Clara right before her shift ended.
She was out of uniform, though. So, she must have made it home.
Little pieces came to her in between her fitful dreams, like the dark drive home. The stabbing pain just above her r
ibs. A dark figure—familiar somehow. But none of it was enough to create a full picture.
She did her best to hold onto the good memories where she could. Making eyes at Clara during Susan’s retirement party, marvelling at how spectacular she looked—and so effortlessly, too. Kissing her under a willow tree well after midnight. Her brother, Frank, graduating from uni.
If only the memories could erase Katie’s screams.
9
Olivia observed her team of four. They had split the groups so that each suspect was in a group, and Olivia, Lawrence, and PC Shaw each led one. It had taken a lot of convincing for Lawrence to go along with Shaw leading the final group, but as Olivia so generously pointed out, he had an alibi for the whole evening prior, and he understood what they were trying to figure out.
Joel Turner was Olivia’s charge. He was built like an ox, young and clearly strong. He shaved his hair off, and his lips seemed perpetually knit together. He appeared standoffish, not really choosing to interact with the group. Whether that was because he was involved in the plot or because his colleague was missing, Olivia couldn’t quite tell. Regardless, she made sure to keep a steady eye on him.
While they waited at their predesignated park, Olivia had given all of them a folder for each crime scene.
“Fresh eyes can mean everything at this point in an investigation,” she had explained as she doled them out. “Anything you notice that isn’t already logged in evidence or in the notes should be brought directly to me. Understood?”
She checked her phone every few minutes to see if there were any updates from Dean or Andrew.
Whoever it was, he hadn’t made his move yet.
“Sorry, DI Austin?” PC Turner approached Olivia, a worried look on his face. “I’m so sorry to ask this, but I just got a call from my brother. His fiancé was just in a car accident; they’re rushing her to surgery. Is there any way—”
He was good. Olivia had to give him that. Tears welled in his eyes, and he did his best to stay just shy of choked up.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Constable…” Olivia let the question hang in the air, unanswered.
“Police Constable Turner, ma’am,” he replied, turning up the waterworks just a touch.
“Turner. Absolutely, go and be with your brother. Just make sure to touch base with me when you’re ready to return. We’ll need all hands on deck for this.”
“Thank you so much, ma’am,” he replied, offering her a weak smile before retreating away.
“Constable,” Olivia called out. He turned to look at her, and she could see the dread in his eyes. “You’re forgetting something.”
Panic quickly dissolved to relief on his face.
“Oh, you’re so right. Silly me.” He sighed, returning to Olivia to place the file in her outstretched hand. He’d been studying the murder from that morning.
“Anything of note that you picked up on?” she asked, absentmindedly scrolling through the various pages.
“Not much besides what you’ve already discovered,” Joel quickly replied. “I was thinking about victimology, though. I think the missing organs must have something to do with control.”
“You think?” Olivia asked, quirking a singular eyebrow to meet his gaze. It was all unfolding before her, classic serial killer narcissism. He wasn’t about to stop talking about himself.
Joel nodded, his tongue quickly darting out to lick his lower lip.
“This guy is claiming ownership over their bodies. Consuming them. And their lives. Each time he kills, he’s showing how much stronger he is. How much more capable.” His eyes were practically glistening with passion.
“Why these victims, then? Two women and a man?” Keep it up, Joel. Keep giving it to me.
“Maybe it’s less about their gender and more about their jobs, or what they choose to do with their lives,” he replied. “The killer is showing that he owns them.”
“Interesting.” Olivia sighed, closing the folder. “Thank you for your insight, Constable Turner.”
“Anytime, Detective Austin,” Turner replied with a curt nod.
“Now go!” Olivia insisted. “Be with your brother.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” And just like that, Joel Turner half walked, half ran to his car.
Once he was out of earshot, Olivia pulled out her phone, quickly opening a group call with Dean and Andrew.
“Guess who just coincidentally had an in-law involved in a tragic accident?” she whispered as soon as they were both on the line.
“Joel Turner?” Lawrence offered. Olivia gestured for the rest of her team to start packing up as she watched Turner’s police car pull out of its parking space.
“Correct. He’s in an IRV. I’ll call Clara to get the tracking information.” Olivia heard both men on the line scoff in disbelief.
“I can’t believe your plan actually worked, Liv,” Shaw sighed.
“Don’t thank me until we catch him,” she warned. With that, she hung up the phone and turned to her befuddled co-workers.
“We have a suspect,” she explained. “I’m going to follow his car in hopes of discovering where he might be hiding Diana. Any information told to you now is confidential and will remain so until told otherwise. I need you all back in your cars and follow me!”
We’ve got you, you son of a bitch.
10
Olivia's heart raced, pushing on and on, threatening to burst her chest open. She felt it thrum against the steering wheel that she gripped too tightly under her palms as she pressed on through the Cornish countryside.
She’d only been able to take one officer with her, Police Constable Patel. The other two officers had remained at the park; they would link up with Dean and PC Shaw’s teams and follow her GPS coordinates. It didn't make sense to pursue the car with multiple vehicles—that would have come across as too suspicious for the rural area they’d started in.
They’d been trailing Joel Turner's car for about ten minutes at that point as he wound through the Cornish countryside, twilight slowly beginning to reveal itself to the world.
Just as Olivia was beginning to worry that he was a false lead—or even worse, that he had caught on to the fact that he was being followed—his car pulled off onto a dirt driveway. Olivia braked as quickly as possible, pulling her car off to the side of the road as they watched Joel's two rear tail lights blink away down the forested path.
“This place couldn't be more isolated, quiet," she observed as she glanced around. It would be perfect for hiding away. Holding a prisoner. She wasn't, however, sure how this place fit into the accident he was supposed to be racing to.
The realisation flashed bright and hot in Olivia's chest. Surely, she would find Diana here, alive and healthy if luck was on their side.
She had to. There was no other option.
"Let's go,” Olivia ordered, motioning for PC Raj Patel to follow her out of the car. Darkness was just starting to set in—not quite enough to fully obscure their surroundings, but enough that colours deepened and movement registered less like movement and more like shadows.
The memory of the dark figure hovering over Olivia, pushed its way into her mind.
She flinched, doing her best to banish the image and the accompanying dread that seemed to cling to her clothes like a stench.
They closed their car doors, the thud a thunderous echo against the quieting night.
"I want a clean takedown," she whispered. “It’s possible that PC Hershel is inside the house, so if we see an opportunity to detain Joel, we have to take it.”
They both crept forward, but she couldn't help the feeling of regret that Dean wasn't by her side. Everything felt safer with him there. They’d been partners for a relatively short period of time, and soon they would have to go their separate ways once the therapist was satisfied she was ready to head her own team, but already he fit so solidly into her time on the job that it felt wrong to approach a suspect without him.
He'll be here s
oon, she assured herself.
And it was true. Both Lawrence’s and Shaw's teams were narrowing in on Olivia's GPS signal with each passing moment.
At the very least, she was grateful that Constable Patel appeared to be a very capable officer. He met her step for step, silently creeping through the underbrush by her side. She didn't know him too well, but he had an impressive presence about him, and that mattered more than anything.
They continued their journey down the winding driveway, hugging to trees and bushes as best they could. The occasional snap of a twig underfoot sent Olivia’s nerves on high alert. But despite it all, no one seemed to notice.
Eventually, the driveway opened to a large parking space and a seemingly abandoned old house. It looked Victorian, like something out of a horror film. An abundance of ivy snaked up the walls, almost covering the front aspect in its entirety.
And there, sat alone in the driveway, was Joel's police car.
But where was the rogue constable?
Olivia motioned silently for PC Patel to flank the opposite side of the car as she approached it. Nothing. He shone his torch into the backseat, but only a couple of old food wrappers littered the floor. And certainly, there was no Joel.
A single light shone in the window of the cottage, and Olivia found herself swallowing fear, her tongue suddenly dry against the roof of her mouth.
She had been in a hostage situation with Ella Hebden a short while ago, and while that had turned out all right in the end, she desperately wanted to avoid any future situations that could resemble that scenario. Just the mere thought of it sent ice through her veins. And Ella had been a relative stranger at that. The idea of having to wrestle Diana, her friend's partner, from the clutches of a murderer… It filled her stomach with acid.
