Kiss and Hell (DI Olivia Austin Book 3)

by Nic Roberts

  PCs Hershel and Shaw stood to the other side of the podium, creating an image of unity.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Collins spoke, quieting the room of any gossip. “As the Detective Superintendent of Newquay Police Station, I have called this mini press briefing to appeal to the public. Yesterday, we found a deceased man in Tregargus Woods, and although there has been no official cause of death declared, we have reason to believe he may have fallen to his demise.” Collins was good at omitting the truth; if Olivia didn’t know better, she’d have trusted every word out of his mouth.

  “He had no identification on him, so we are asking for the public’s help in identifying him,” he continued. “He is best described as a Caucasian male in his mid-forties to early fifties with greying black hair. He was around 6ft 2 tall and approximately thirteen and a half stones.”

  It occurred to Olivia that Elliot had to estimate their victim’s weight while many of his organs and blood were absent from his body. She did her best not to shudder.

  “If you have a co-worker who fits this description who’s been absent from work or an acquaintance you haven’t heard from in a while, please reach out to us. We’re hoping to identify this man in order to notify his family. We have a special line set up, so please call if you suspect you know him. We won’t be fielding any questions at this time. Thank you.” Collins had a down-to-business attitude that silenced all the reporters ready to swarm him with questions.

  He stood for a few more moments, letting the flash of several cameras go off as he gripped the podium. Olivia had to hand it to him; he knew how to work the media. She did her best to straighten her posture and look serious in the background.

  After he finished posing, he turned to exit the press pool.

  “This better work,” he muttered under his breath as he passed Olivia and Dean. They gave him a hum of agreement, keeping their eyes locked forward while Hershel and Shaw moved to exit.

  “Miss me?” Andrew asked, giving Olivia a tiny wink as he passed her. She pursed her lips together, unsure if her instinct was to laugh or scoff.

  “Possibly in your dreams?” she hissed, returning her eyes forward.

  Constable Shaw’s smile widened.

  “Well, I’m good at fantasising,” he drawled, summoning a hint of red to Liv’s cheeks.

  “Keep it moving, Duracell,” she shot back, quirking her head as if to say, this conversation is over.

  “As you wish,” he replied, walking past and out into the hallway. With Collins, Hershel, and Shaw gone, it was Olivia’s and Lawrence’s turns to exit. They rotated stiffly before following the trio out into the hallway.

  “It’ll be our necks on the line if this falls through,” Collins grumbled as the detectives came into sight.

  The two gave him a quick affirmative nod.

  “Half of the team upstairs are working on manning those calls,” Olivia breathed, hoping against all odds that this plan would work. “With any luck, we’ll get a call within the hour,”

  “Just keep me in the loop,” their boss ordered before walking off down the hallway.

  All four remaining officers let out a sigh of relief once he’d disappeared through the doors at the end.

  “Well,” Lawrence blurted out. “The pressures on. Shall we get on with it?”

  “Let’s,” Olivia agreed, pushing past the small group to walk towards the stairs once again. Each thud of her shoe filled her with gratitude that she was inching further and further away from the press box.

  It took everything in her not to run.

  21

  Much to Olivia’s gratitude—and also frustration—the tips had flooded in. Their team had quickly established a fluid system. Those answering phones would ask a couple of clarifying questions to double check the legitimacy of them. If they felt it wasn’t a prank call, the names as well as contact information were written down on a board. Other team members would then follow up and log accordingly.

  Anyone who wasn’t able to be reached by phone was put on a list to be divvied up by Dean and Olivia, who separated to chase a handful of solid-sounding leads. She hadn’t liked the idea of splitting up but knew they could trust one another. PC Hershel had gone along with Lawrence as back up, while Liv brought PC Shaw with her. She hadn’t intended on the constable riding with her, but Collins had insisted that because he was a part of the press tour, it would be helpful to have a familiar face alongside her.

  Twilight had just begun to settle in for the night as they arrived at their third place of residence, a small cottage just outside of town. The first two had gone rather smoothly; one man had stayed home with a sex worker for the day and was quite alarmed to answer the door to two uniformed officers.

  “Just call in sick next time, all right?” Olivia had sighed before bidding him a good evening. The other man had hidden himself away from friends and family with a migraine and thus had been intensely frustrated at the detective’s banging outside his flat.

  Apprehension clung to Olivia’s chest as she raised her fist to knock on Charles Harrington’s front door. On the one hand, if Harrington was their victim, it would be an amazing break in the case to locate his residence so early.

  It also meant informing family members and watching grief descend upon a community again. And the tiniest voice in Olivia’s head reminded her that so far, the killer had only one established pattern aside from robbing his victims of their organs: he followed the discovery of his victim’s identity with another victim.

  “Devon and Cornwall Police,” Olivia called out after giving the door a firm rap. Shaw nodded. He stood further back in order to survey the house. “Charles Harrington, if you’re in there, we’d like to have a quick word.”

  Nothing in the cottage seemed to stir, each moment adding tension to the air.

  She knocked three more times before turning to Andrew. It was hard to see in the dim light, and the house remained dark, meaning that the constable was more of a silhouette than a fully defined man in Olivia’s vision. Still, she was able to see him gesture to go around the side of the house. Olivia held up a palm to signal for him to watch the front while she slid around the back.

  Her heartbeat snaked up into her throat, fervent and ever present. The last time she had tried to enter a suspicious house on her own, it had resulted in a killer pressing a knife against her throat. Memories of Ella Hebden’s kidnapping flooded into her mind unbidden. Surely, this was just a case of someone taking an impromptu vacation, though. Or perhaps another migraine.

  Reminding herself to be calm didn’t stop her vision from feeling hazy on the edges, however.

  With each door that she passed, she tried the handle to see if it was unlocked. No luck. She had just about finished circling the cottage when she noticed a cracked window. Sizing it up, she decided she was small enough to fit inside.

  “Andrew!” Olivia called out, sizing up her options. It wasn’t technically legal for her to enter the house without a warrant—she knew that and took it seriously. The question was whether she valued the law or the possibility that this was one step closer to finding their killer.

  “How can I be of help, Detective Inspector?” It felt oddly formal to hear him call her by her title. She expected everything out of his mouth to be some sort of snarky comment.

  Olivia stared at the silhouette of Shaw, the two sides of the scale precariously hanging in the balance, forcing indecision. She wished that she knew what the right thing to do was, but in the moment, it all just felt like various shades of grey.

  The world made a decision for her as the sound of a door slamming pierced the night’s air.

  “Out back!” Olivia hissed, immediately pouncing into action. A dark figure darted into the crop of trees beside the cottage; it would have seemed like a shadow except for the sound of feet pounding against the ground.

  Wind pulled at her hair as Olivia bolted towards the figure, arms pumping wildly. She hated running in her work clothes, but she was still good at i
t. She managed to pull her torch out from her belt and turn it on, the beam slicing through the darkness and brightening strips of the trees. Whoever was running, he was moving too fast to get any details on. He was in all black. Beyond that, it was anyone’s guess.

  “Stop! Police!” she yelled, though she doubted it would do any good. The figure kept running, so she kept up the chase. Branches threatened to snag at her clothes and hold her back, but her feet kept her steady, kept her in pursuit.

  Was that Shaw behind her? She’d taken off before being certain he would join.

  The world felt upside down, darkness only interrupted briefly by the swinging of her torch. And above it all came the sound of her breath shoving itself out of her body, only to inhale more, desperately grasping for more oxygen to fuel her muscles.

  Where had the dark figure gone?

  He had just been there?

  Olivia slowed, scanning the trees with her light. If Andrew had been behind her, he’d quickly fallen behind. The night had swamped everything in silence; only the hum of insects surrounding her.

  A branch snapped nearby, causing her to whirl to her left, her torch searching for the man wreathed in shadow.

  Where the fuc—

  The world cut to black.

  22

  “Olivia!” Andrew’s voice was distant, but Liv clung to it as she blinked her eyes open. She couldn’t see anything but didn’t know if that was due to faulty vision or the all-encompassing night.

  What…?

  Her head was killing her. She fumbled with her hand, trying to press the headache away with her palm. Why was her forehead sticky?

  Rocks and roots pressed into her back, cold and painful. Was she on the ground? How long had she been out? For all she knew, it could have been seven seconds or seven minutes.

  She should really call out for PC Shaw. He kept up his call for her, slowly getting closer. It wasn’t fast enough for her taste, however.

  Olivia opened her mouth, ready to shout his name, though her head protested against any more noise. Something within her insisted that getting Andrew to her side was of the utmost importance.

  Her vision quickly coalesced into a clearer picture as a gloved hand pressed itself against her mouth. The dark figure. He was hovered right above her, an eclipse cutting out light except for around the very edges of her vision.

  She raised her voice in protest to his silencing, flailing her arms to try and push him away, to scratch him, to do anything besides lay there helplessly. But the world oozed and blurred, and everything felt so heavy. The figure easily dodged her assault. He seemed more a void than a real person—the absence of light. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, she would think he was simply a figment of her imagination.

  “Shh, Detective Austin,” he whispered, shooting a chill straight down her spine. “I don’t have the time today.” The figure pressed further down onto Olivia, making her jaw protest in pain at the weight. “But don’t worry. I’ll come for you again.”

  With that, he stroked her hair. She was going to throw up. This disgusting pig of a man had the audacity to stroke her fucking hair? With all the strength she could muster, Olivia swung her leg out in a kick and grinned with satisfaction when she made contact with the figure’s side, though he seemed fairly unperturbed.

  “Good luck, Olivia,” he whispered. “You’ll need it.”

  And then he was gone. She had to blink several times to confirm she hadn’t just convinced herself he had left, but sure enough, the first stars of the night twinkled above her.

  “Shaw!” The constable’s name felt as though it was ripped from the silence itself, not from her own lips.

  “Olivia!” Andrew’s response sounded urgent, alarmed.

  “Over here,” she croaked, and she could have sworn she was floating just above her body, observing the scene from outside her skin. She was splayed on the ground, arms knocked to the side and legs slightly akimbo. A dark patch covered her forehead.

  After a few more moments of nothing but the stars, a silhouette stumbled into Olivia’s peripheral awareness.

  “Fuck,” Constable Shaw swore, kneeling at her side in the darkness, bringing her awareness back to her body. “What happened to you?” he asked, hands struggling to decide if it was wise to touch her.

  “I don’t… I…” Olivia mumbled, wincing as she was reminded of the banging pain in her head. “I’ll be okay. You have to—have to find him. Please, Andrew, get him. He can’t be far…”

  “Liv,” Shaw spoke, both calmer and more serious than she had ever heard. It wasn’t like him to be so grave; were things really that bad? “He’s already gone. I’m going to stay with you until backup shows up. I called it in when you bolted after the guy.”

  Olivia laughed then, though it hurt her head to let the gasps of air leave her body. She was chuckling, then laughing, practically howling. She knew it was absurd, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking with amusement or was that shock.

  PC Shaw’s eyebrows furrowed with concern at her sudden hysteria.

  “Guess we can cross you off the list,” she muttered, aware she was delirious even as she let the words escape her lips.

  “List?” the constable asked, fingers finally probing her head to check for damage.

  “Ow!” she shouted, limply swatting her hand at Shaw’s arm. “Bastard.” She wished it was lighter outside so he could see her glare at him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, pulling back to wipe his hand on his pants. Was that blood? “You’ve got a gash on your forehead, but it looks relatively superficial. Not as deep as I thought. All things considered, you’re in good nick.”

  Olivia groaned in response.

  “What did you mean by list?” Shaw inquired. Bloody cops, Olivia thought to herself. They never knew how to mind their own business.

  “Not important,” Olivia grumbled.

  “I highly doubt that,” he responded, and though she couldn’t see him, she could hear the smile back in his voice. That has to be a good sign… doesn’t it?

  “Classified, then,” she continued, avoiding the question at all costs.

  “Well, I’d have to say you’re lucid based on your staunch avoidance,” Andrew replied wryly. “That’s a good thing. I hate having to ask people if they know who our current prime minister is.”

  Olivia let out a quiet chuckle, immediately regretting the movement. PC Shaw laughed for her, though, letting out a throaty guffaw.

  “You think it’s one of us, don’t you?” The realisation was evident in his voice.

  “You don’t know that,” Olivia protested, although she knew it was useless even as she let the words leave her throat.

  “You said you had a list,” he replied. Olivia stayed silent then, doing her best not to give away more than what he had already pieced together.

  “That’s smart,” he muttered after a moment. “That’s really fucking smart. Bastard better hope I’m not the one who finds out it’s him.”

  “He…” Olivia started, closing her eyes before she could let herself admit her exchange with the shadowy figure. “He had me. Could have killed me. He knew my name, Andrew.” Tears stung at her eyes, hot and fast.

  “Woah, woah, woah,” Shaw responded. He was gripping her hand in his own. When had that happened? Everything felt patchy, like flashes sewn together. “What do you mean?” he pressed.

  “I mean,” Olivia growled, wincing as she spoke, “that he called me Austin. And Olivia. Talked to me like he knew me.” Her voice broke as she admitted it, flashes of the shadowy figure dancing across her memory.

  “Oh, shit,” Shaw replied, giving her hand another squeeze. “Did you recognise his voice?”

  “I don’t think so,” she muttered, rocking her head back and forth and immediately regretting it. The ground was too rough to be wobbling her head around as if it were nothing. “Can’t be sure though. Everything sounds kind of funny right now.”

  “Makes sense after you were cracked over th
e head,” he observed. Olivia stared more daggers into him. He seemed to know despite being unable to see her face. “Sorry! Bad bedside manner,” he offered.

  Olivia relaxed into a smile.

  “Right,” Andrew spoke after a few more moments of silence. “Do you think if I helped you, you could stand? Your neck doesn’t seem to be misplaced in any way.”

  “I think so.” She sighed, doing her best to mask her hesitation. Moving meant more pain, and at this point, she didn’t know how much more she could take.

  “Hey,” he offered, bringing one hand behind her head while keeping the other firmly pressed against her palm. “I’ve got you. Promise.”

  “You better,” Olivia shot back, smiling to avoid a grimace.

  “On three?” Shaw started. Olivia groaned but gave the gentlest nod. “One. Two. Three.”

  Olivia’s vision disappeared again as Shaw helped her sit up, the pain blinding her to anything beyond its immediate agony. Something between a scream and a groan echoed through the forest; Olivia was peripherally aware that it must have come from her lips.

  “Good job,” Shaw encouraged. “Don’t pass out on me yet, Inspector.”

  “You give some weird pep talks, Duracell,” Olivia choked out, focusing on her retorts.

  “Oh, so I’m Duracell now?”

  “Easier to—to forget the pain when—” Olivia grimaced, frustrated with how much it took just to speak. “When I’m giving you shit.”

  “Use me as your verbal punching bag, then.” He chuckled, and Olivia was struck by the kindness of the sentiment. This wasn’t the constable she was used to; he was always about charm and sass, never sincerity.

  “What’s gotten into you, Shaw?” she replied, a smile spreading across her lips once more. “You’re going soft on me?”

  Andrew paused before speaking.

  “Whatever it takes to get you out of these woods, Liv,” he answered.