by Nic Roberts
Olivia hurried down the path to the waiting car.
“Thanks for sending transport, by the way,” she added back to Lawrence, who laughed, and she was acutely aware of how chaotic she sounded to him over the phone.
“Of course. It was really me being lazy,” he joked. “I’ll get you up to speed once you make it back to the office. I think this interview with Mr Mercer could really get us somewhere.”
Olivia sighed.
“I really hope so.” She nodded at the uniformed officer as she slid into the backseat of the car. He wordlessly started the car. “See you shortly, Dean.”
She heard him take a long low breath on the other end.
“See you soon, Liv.”
10
Olivia waltzed into the station feeling refreshed. DI Lawrence had been right to suggest a break. She’d have to make sure he got one after the call with Samuel Mercer.
“I’m here,” she declared as she walked into their office space. The clock on the far wall read 2.48 pm, quietly marking time.
“Perfect timing,” Lawrence spoke, approaching her with a file. “We’ve got some new stuff in. Text exchanges between Kitty Allen and Ella Hebden,” he started, pulling out a fresh page and placing it on her desk. She nodded, allowing him to keep going. “Clara’s found a couple of new camera angles from the train station, although there aren’t any new leads, and it doesn’t look as though Ella was followed out of the station. Clara’s currently working on dry calling all of the taxi companies in town to see if any of them picked up Ella that night. So far, no luck, but she’s only just started.”
“Alright,” Olivia nodded as she took the rest of the file from him. “We’re getting closer, though. And what about this phone call with the ex-boyfriend?”
Lawrence looked at his watch.
“We’re calling in about ten minutes,” he answered. “Mr Mercer said he has some information that might be helpful, but that he’d only disclose on the line with the detectives. I’m hoping it brings us closer to finding Ella and whoever took her.”
Olivia looked over at her partner, a singular eyebrow raised.
“You still think it’s Gareth,” she offered.
Lawrence shrugged.
“We called in a favour with the Met Police. A couple of plainclothes officers are following him to make sure he makes it onto his train. Part of me expects him to run, but we’ll have to wait and see, I guess.”
Olivia nodded in agreement.
“Well, let’s get set up in the interrogation room and go from there,” she suggested, gladly accepting yet another cup of tea from Timothy. He really did have impeccable timing.
“Right,” Lawrence chipped in. “And how’s Earnest?” he asked as he gathered his things.
Olivia smiled, glancing at him from her desk.
“Earnest is as Earnest does. Which is to say he’s doing splendidly,” she answered. “My mother is babysitting him, which will have to do for now since she’s not holding out for any grandchildren from me.”
Lawrence scoffed at this comment.
“Sounds like an immense amount of pressure,” he winced.
Olivia couldn’t decide if he looked amused or concerned, but she rolled her eyes, allowing a smile to flit across her lips.
“Oh, if only you knew,” she laughed. “I’ll always be the concerning daughter.”
“Glad to see you have a good sense of humour around it,” Lawrence commented as they walked, files in hand, into the interrogation room.
“Me too,” she sighed. For the most part. She adjusted the necklace around her neck. “Alright, are we ready for round two of this?”
Her partner nodded.
“Do you want to speak with him or shall I?” She asked.
“Maybe I should take the lead?” Lawrence almost seemed timid at the suggestion. “That way, you can focus on Mr Finch and I can focus on Mr Mercer. But only if that sounds like a good setup for you.”
Olivia nodded. It would be a nice reset to watch Dean work his own toolset with the ex.
“Sounds brilliant, actually,” Olivia replied, settling down into her seat. “I’m curious to see what Sam has to share.”
“Me too,” breathed Lawrence. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”
With deft fingers, Lawrence pressed record on the ancient phone recorder before dialling Samuel Mercer’s number. Olivia settled in with her tea, making sure to keep her pen and notepad nearby.
He picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?” Ella Hebden’s college ex-boyfriend sounded hesitant. Unsure.
Olivia flipped through the newest iteration of her folder to a picture of a young chap with a proper mop of blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He played football, evidently—or at least he used to. He seemed cheery enough, although Olivia reminded herself that sometimes looks can be all too deceiving.
“Yes, hello, this is Detective Inspector Lawrence with Devon and Cornwall Police. Is this Samuel Mercer?” Lawrence’s tone was calm and collected without sounding too icy. He balanced conversation and business impeccably well.
“Aye, that’s me,” responded the voice on the other end of the phone. “Ella’s parents told me about what happened this morning. Absolutely awful. It makes me sick to think—” He cut himself off at that.
Olivia raised an eyebrow, jotting down parents still in touch? In bold letters.
“Yes, I’m so sorry about Miss Hebden’s disappearance.” Lawrence let genuine remorse wash over his voice and Olivia wondered if he truly felt it or not. “Listen, Sam, we’d just like to go over a few things with you. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. Does that sound alright?”
There was a slight pause.
“Absolutely,” he answered. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I just want what’s best for Ells.”
He sounded like a real Prince Charming, ready to do the upstanding thing. Real or façade? Olivia jotted down.
“Thank you so much for taking the time, Sam. Is it alright if I call you Sam?”
Olivia realised that she hadn’t watched Lawrence lead an interview yet; they had either tag-teamed or she had taken point. He was impressive, really. She should let him do it more often.
“Yeah, of course. Is there anything in particular I can do to help?” He sounded eager, ready to provide information. Even from their brief interactions, Sam seemed eons more mature and kinder than Gareth. How did Ella go from dating this man to the scumbag Olivia had interviewed earlier in the day?
“We spoke with Kitty Allen earlier today. Do you remember her?” Lawrence asked, glancing to Olivia. She gave him a reassuring nod, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Warm him up first.
“Yeah, of course I remember Kitty. She and Ells were joined at the hip—still are, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s great, Sam. She had mentioned that you and Ella went through a rough break up your last year of college. Is that true?” There was another pause on the other end of the line.
Olivia sucked in a breath. C’mon, Sam.
“Yeah. It gutted me, to be honest. I thought she was the one, you know?”
Lawrence scratched at his eyebrow.
“Yeah, I know the feeling, Sam. Young love.” He sighed, stopping for a moment. “Well, it’s hard to beat that. And she felt the same way?” Lawrence probed.
Olivia studied her partner’s face, poring over his features. She’d always pegged him as more of a player. Maybe she’d been mistaken.
“Yeah. We were head over heels for each other. Even talked about going to Uni in the same city. I genuinely thought we’d be married with kids one day.” A long sigh echoed from the phone’s speaker.
“What made it end, then?” Lawrence asked. “Sorry, I know it’s a tough, but it’s my understanding she was quite anxious towards the end of your last year.” His voice got quieter with each more personal question. He was giving Sam space to assert himself, draw his own lines. Olivi
a sometimes thought of interviews as chess matches. Her partner almost seemed to approach them more as a painter or a sculptor, partnering with his interviewee to slowly chip away at a block of clay, revealing more with each stroke.
“That’s a great question.” Sam sighed. It got quiet for several moments. Lawrence let them sit in it. “I thought she was cheating at the time. She started getting really secretive around the weekends. Hiding her phone, not answering calls, jumping if I’d surprise her in the hallways. I was certain it was another man.”
Lawrence sighed.
“Did you ever find out for sure?” he asked, tapping his pen against the table.
“No, and to be quite honest—” Sam was choking up. A real sensitive guy. “To be honest, I don’t think she was seeing anyone after all. But when I accused her of it, laid out my suspicions, she couldn’t give a good reason as to why she was acting that way. I could tell she was upset about it, and she was definitely hiding something. I just wish I had known what.”
Olivia and Lawrence locked eyes. That was genuine remorse. But remorse meant emotion, and emotion could be a fickle thing. What secret? Olivia wrote and then circled it.
“Do you have any clue what it could have been that she was hiding?” Lawrence pressed onwards.
“I wish I did. She kept everything so close to her chest, you know?” he answered. “She didn’t want anyone to see when she was in real pain. But eventually, I couldn’t take the secrecy anymore. I told her she needed to explain what was going on or I was going to have to move on with my life. And then she ended it with me. It was bizarre.” The words poured out of Sam.
“Is there anything else you can think of that might help with the investigation—any sort of conflict Ella had while you knew her?” Lawrence’s tone had become urgent, hurdling forward.
“Really, I wish I could think of more...” Mr Mercer replied wearily. “She was such an upstanding girl. I don’t know how anyone could harm her.”
Olivia raised her eyebrow at the use of past tense. Interesting…
“You’ve been really helpful, Sam,” Lawrence praised. “Oh, and just one last thing. Just for paperwork, can we confirm that you were in Liverpool last night?”
Olivia smiled at her partner for that. Nice way to slip it in at the very end. The line was silent for a moment.
“Yeah, of course,” he answered. “I live with a couple of Uni friends. We were up ‘til late playing video games in our flat.”
“Brilliant. Thank you so much for your time, Mr Mercer. Feel free to call our number if you think of anything else.”
“Of course, Detective,” Sam responded. His voice was brisker than it had been two minutes before.
Asking for an alibi was a sensitive topic, evidently. Check with flatmates, Olivia noted.
“Well, I think that’s all we have time for,” Lawrence wrapped up. “Thank you again for speaking with us.”
“Yep.” The one syllable word clipped at the end as Sam hung up his phone.
“That was odd,” Lawrence exhaled.
“Oh, absolutely.” Olivia shook her head. “I want to find out what this secret her final year was. Let’s check in with the parents, see if they remember anything. I find it odd that her best friend and ex vividly remember her being tense, but her parents mentioned nothing of it.”
Lawrence pointed at her emphatically.
“Agreed,” he concurred.
“I want to follow up on this Sam, too,” Olivia added. “Make sure he really was in Liverpool.”
Lawrence nodded at that, gathering his files and items.
“I can do all of that while you head home for a bit, though,” she offered. “Prep an interview for the parents, dig a bit on Sam. You should give yourself a break. I get the feeling we’re going to need it.”
Lawrence seemed ready to protest, which earned him a look from Olivia.
“You’re right,” he quipped, putting his files on his table. “You’ll call me if you find anything?”
“Absolutely,” Olivia confirmed. “And Lawrence?” He looked up at her. “That was bloody brilliant in there.”
He smiled, and with a nod, he left the room. Olivia wondered if he felt the same rush that she did after interviewing a suspect. It was quite the thrill.
With a quick sip of tea, she settled back into her desk. She had a lot of reading to get to. We’re coming for you, Ella.
11
Newquay Police Station, set back not too far away from the seaside, had a distinctive air to it entirely different from the London station which she had found herself so used to over all those years. It had been jarring the first day she walked into her quaint office after her leave of absence; a new department, a new feel. It wasn’t as though the construction or layout was all that different—the police were great at uniformity in that way. But the attitude of the building and its residents left a different taste at the back of Olivia’s tongue. It wasn’t bad, just unfamiliar. The station exuded warmth in a way that her office in action-packed London never was capable of doing.
Sitting in her swivel chair, poring over Kitty Allen’s texts to Ella Hebden, Olivia noticed for the first time that even though the office still felt different when compared to her time with the City of London Police, it no longer felt alien. Comfort wrapped around her like an invisible blanket, making her feel for once like an insider at her desk. Relief filled her lungs. It was a good feeling, albeit unexpected.
The texts between Kitty and Ella started to blur together; there was nothing definitive about Gareth, although Kitty would occasionally try to allude to the fact that Ella seemed unhappy. Ella never fully shut down the accusations, but she also never seemed to admit that anything terrible had happened. Olivia let her yellow highlighter trace over a couple of exchanges in particular.
* * *
Kitty:
Is he hurting you, Ells?
Ella:
I can’t believe you think that, Kitty
Kitty:
You didn’t answer my question
Ella:
I’m fine
Kitty:
Are you, though?
Ells? You can talk to me. Please?
* * *
Ella stopped texting for a day after that. The back and forth between the two friends was certainly cause for concern. It wasn’t damning, not at all. But it could come in handy while interrogating Gareth. Met Police had confirmed that their plainclothes officers had spotted Mr Finch boarding the train to Cornwall at the allotted time. That was something.
Olivia glanced up at the clock, which read 4.27 pm. She still had plenty of time to prep for her interview with him. Starting to pull a couple of materials together, she phoned Officer Hershel. She’d probably be getting off her shift soon.
“Hershel,” the disembodied voice answered after the second ring. She was certainly punctual.
“It’s Detective Austin,” Olivia responded. “Listen, I know you leave soon, but I was thinking about swinging by to speak with the Hebdens again. How do they seem?”
A quiet rustle emanated from the other end of the phone.
“They’re certainly anxious. It might be good for them to have a personal update,” PC Hershel replied after a moment.
“Great. Please inform them I’ll be over soon.” Olivia ordered. “I’ll talk with you about the cars you’ve seen drive by when I arrive.” She got a gentle hum of agreement from the constable. “Thanks for all of your help.”
“Just doing my job, ma’am.”
Olivia gave a thumbs up to Tim, who placed some papers on her desk before he disappeared again. She tucked them into her pigeonhole and stood up.
“Of course,” she assured her. “Well, thank you regardless. I’ll see you shortly.”
She tucked her phone into the crook of her neck so she could pick up her coat from the back of her chair. A click from the other line signalled PC Hershel had hung up.
“Brilliant,” Olivia muttered to herself. She had her notepad and
a few observations from her interviews to bring with her to the Hebden’s house. Hopefully, Lawrence didn’t take too much issue with the fact that she was going by herself.
A gentle pang of guilt flared in her chest, but Olivia quickly quieted it. Her partner would be fine not being present, especially with the urgency facing them.
Hurrying her pace, Olivia pressed out through the office space and down the hallway. Yes, she mused to herself, somehow, this place has become another home for me.
The cool air brushed her face on the way to her car. She felt as though she could taste answers on the air, just past the station, somewhere among the sprawling fields and winding roads. They were getting closer. Hopefully, they got there in time. She didn’t know if she could face another defeat in hope like she had last year. Here we go.
* * *
PC Hershel stood upright as Olivia pulled into the Hebdens’ drive. Olivia allowed herself a moment to truly study the young officer. She wore her uniform like armour, full of pride and also protection. She had a mane of coiled, fiery red hair which she had attempted to tame into a modest bun. Freckles painted her face, a small galaxy across her nose and cheeks. Her face pinched together, as though she couldn’t reveal what happened behind her deep blue eyes. Olivia could, however, see beneath the stoicism laid a keen wit and observation. She found herself thoroughly impressed with the Constable.
Swinging her legs out of the car, Olivia relished in the sound of the gravel crunching beneath her feet as she stood up. The countryside was so quiet, so far removed from the bustle of city life. Every little thing had its place—the gravel, the rolling hills, the lush trees, the distant roar of the tide. Anything that stuck out here stuck out like a sore thumb. Hopefully, the Officer had caught something amiss.
“Good evening, Hershel,” Olivia called out as she approached the young policewoman. She let a smile play across her face as she greeted her. It earned her a gentle nod in response.