by Nic Roberts
“You suspect the boyfriend?” Collins asked, looking between the two detectives.
“I do, sir,” Lawrence chimed in. “There’s a good chance he was physically abusive, and he isolated her from her family and friends. I’ve worked through enough domestic violence cases in my career to know what kind of rage a person like him holds inside, just waiting to explode. Trust me, it’s not pretty when it comes out.”
Collins huffed before shifting his gaze to Olivia.
“You’re not so sure,” he observed.
Olivia shrugged and contemplatively chewed the corner of her lip.
“There’s a good chance he could have done it, of course. I’m just not sure the means make sense. Why would he come all the way out here when he could have taken care of her in London, on his home turf?”
Collins stroked the moustache he was trying to grow.
“Well, I trust you two will get to the bottom of it all. I’m heading home for the evening, but I’ll keep my phone on. Call if there are any major developments.”
“Yes, sir,” the detectives responded in unison.
“And guys?” Detective Superintendent Collins spoke with a punctuality to him, almost as if he was a conductor guiding the room. Both Austin and Lawrence looked him squarely in the eye.
“Get this arsehole,” he muttered as he turned to exit the office.
“Trust me, we’re on it,” Olivia replied, startled by the rage contained within her own voice. She was ready to pounce on the person who had kidnapped their 23-year-old victim. Whoever it was needed to be behind bars.
“Brilliant. I’ll see you two later,” Collins replied before swiftly exiting with a quick nod. The partners turned to look at one another.
“What do you think?” Lawrence asked with a sigh.
“I think we’re not going to know for sure one way or another until this interview with Mr Finch,” Olivia replied. “Although Clara is trying to comb through social media. See if she can maybe identify who the stalker was.”
“That’s good,” Lawrence hummed, bracing his knuckles on Olivia’s desk.
“Agreed,” she replied with a wry smile. “Alright, can you help me prep for the interview?”
At first, she had thought she wanted to get ready by herself. But Lawrence helped stir something in her, let her find the holes in her line of questioning. He was an incredibly helpful partner, all things considered. A dull ache accompanied the realisation as it dawned on her. She realised she was afraid that welcoming Lawrence into her life from a professional perspective could mean she was closing the chapter with Rhys.
That chapter’s already been closed, the caustic voice in her head reminded her.
“Gladly,” he replied, warmth filling his voice.
“Great,” Olivia responded with a smile, allowing it to hide the mountain of hurt just behind her eyes. She settled into her chair. “Then let’s get to work.”
14
It was time.
Olivia and Lawrence had spent the past half an hour getting the interview room prepped properly. They went over the order Olivia was planning, as well as what scenarios would result in Lawrence interceding. They turned up the lights just enough that the faintest hint of sweat appeared when they were under the bright bulbs for too long. Lawrence had the great idea to prepare dramatically large files ready to plop down on the interview table at a moment’s notice, implying they had far more information than they really did. And of course, Olivia did her favourite thing to get a suspect just off-kilter enough: she removed the cap on one of the chair’s legs where Gareth would sit, unable to feel perfectly grounded for the entirety of the interview.
Now, Olivia, paced back and forth in the video monitoring room waiting for her suspect to arrive. They’d agreed that Lawrence should greet him upon arriving to the station, make sure he felt comfortable, got any tea or coffee, and after he’d settled, Olivia would enter the room. It made perfect sense.
She just hated the waiting.
She thumbed through her file on Gareth for the eleventh time since entering the monitoring room. His birth name and date, incidents on record with the Metropolitan Police, and his LinkedIn profile. Other various articles that Clara had pulled from her internet search history, as well as a couple of notes from Lawrence.
She also glanced down at a text she had received from Clara seven minutes prior. The car that PC Hershel had observed that day belonged to a Mr Patrick Dudley. Timothy had already called Mr Dudley, but his phone had gone to voicemail. Hopefully, they could check in with him in the morning.
Olivia snapped back to the present, returning to examine the notes in front of her.
Their main goal was to establish Gareth’s timeline. From there, they could go into determining if he had an alibi, as well as any sort of motive. They’d already arranged for a room at a bed and breakfast down the street if he felt comfortable staying the evening. Olivia secretly hoped that he quickly gave a rock-solid alibi. Enough to eliminate him. That, or he was the kidnapper and he gave it up early into the interview so he could be arrested. Either way, she wanted the interview to mean something. To get them ahead.
Olivia tried to ignore the welling in her throat. This was her first major case since losing Rhys. Try not to think about that, she reprimanded herself. She felt herself bristle as she thought back to that day more than a year ago when she’d had a visit at her hospital bed. I’m afraid he got hit, Liv. And he didn’t make it. Little had she known how devastating that day would be. How she’d vowed to never put a uniform on again or get into another room like this.
Anger and fear dictated her every thought after that. It was in every decision she made. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the scars that still painted the side of her abdomen as she was brought back to that cold, clinical hospital room with its harsh white lights.
Lawrence’s distinctive voice approaching the interview room shook Olivia out of her downward spiral. She heard him pass the room she was in. He was chatty—abnormally so—and she couldn’t help but shake her head. He certainly knew how to turn the charm on, and she found it oddly endearing, like opening the door to her cottage at the end of a long day and finally realising she’d made it home.
“Thank you again for coming down to Cornwall, Mr Finch.” Lawrence’s voice sounded almost tinny through the speaker in the interview room as he entered the space, gesturing to invite in their suspect.
Gareth Finch looked to be over 5ft 11. His hair was slicked back with a tad too much gel, and he wore a white shirt and grey suit trousers finished with a navy jumper. From what Olivia could see on the screen, she supposed he was handsome, despite the unpleasant air about him. Dark brown eyes scanned the room, glancing at the camera a fraction too long. He knew someone was watching. Good.
“Please, Gareth—is it alright to call you Gareth? Go ahead and have a seat,” Lawrence charmed, gesturing to the lone silver chair that sat on the other end of the table from where Olivia would soon take her seat. Gareth eased out of his jumper before sitting down, allowing Olivia enough of a glance to notice that he was fairly toned. He was certainly capable of physically overpowering someone.
“I’ll grab you that tea in just a moment,” Lawrence offered, setting a couple of small files on the table across from the man. “Detective Austin will be alongside me on this interview. She’ll be in in a moment. Just has to finish following up with our technical analyst.”
Lawrence pulled off conversational small talk with impeccable taste. Mr Finch's nostril flared a bit at the comment about Olivia joining them. This man didn’t like having to wait. He nodded though, biding his time. He hadn’t spoken a word since entering the room.
“Alright, then, I’ll be back in a minute. Make yourself at home,” Lawrence commented, almost lyrical, before making his exit. The latch of the door clicked behind him, leaving Gareth in the room by himself.
It wasn’t long before Lawrence was standing by Olivia’s side, gazing into the interview room on the screen bes
ide her. They both watched their suspect size up his surroundings, still silent.
“He’s an interesting one,” Olivia mused. “Anything of note when he entered the station?”
“Refused legal advice. Doesn’t need it apparently,” Lawrence commented. “He has a suitcase with him that we checked into the front office. I’ve been working on the chatty routine, trying to appeal to his ego, but he seems rock solid on staying quiet. Hasn’t said more than a few words to me.” He rubbed at his chin.
Olivia spotted her partner’s obvious tell after spending practically the whole day with him.
“What is it?” she asked, studying his face.
“His knuckles have scabs on them,” he observed, gesturing with his chin towards the screen. The camera wasn’t entirely HD, but just as noted, Gareth’s right fist sported dark shadowing consistent with scabs.
“Shit,” Olivia swore. “Proof of his aggression? Anything else I should know before heading in?”
Lawrence shook his head with a frown. As they discussed strategy, Gareth moved into Olivia’s periphery, lifting the edge of the file on the table. It was a decoy, of course. It only housed a few legal files and his record. Olivia was pleased to see he’d taken the bait, although upon seeing his driver’s license photo, he let the top of the file drift shut. Testing the waters, then.
“Go for it, Liv,” Lawrence encouraged. “He’s an egg waiting to be cracked, and you’re—well, you’re brilliant at getting into someone’s mind.” He gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder. She offered him a smile in response.
“Don’t get all mushy-gushy on me, Detective Inspector,” she replied. She intended to be rather stoic about it but found herself welcoming a smile into the comment. So much for keeping her distance with her co-workers.
“Alright, I’ll grab that tea from Tim and meet you in there,” Lawrence idly directed, glancing at his watch. “You’re positive you don’t want any?”
“No. Thank you though,” Olivia answered. “Any more caffeine than I’ve already had, and I’ll vibrate out of the building. I’ll grab this, though.”
She picked up her necessary files and collated them into a neat pile.
“Get him.” Lawrence spoke with so much confidence in Olivia that she almost found herself getting emotional. It’d been a while since she had welcomed a co-worker this completely behind her walls. If she thought about it too much, though, it’d distract her from the real goal at hand. She had to remain laser-focused on the one thing she wanted: catch the kidnapper. Bring Ella home.
“See you in there,” Olivia called out, attempting nonchalance. Hopefully, Lawrence hadn’t noticed the sweat beading by her hairline or the way her hands nervously fidgeted with the files. Certainly, she couldn’t let Gareth see it.
“You’re going to do great,” he whispered back.
Olivia gave her partner a nod.
I most definitely hope so.
15
“Mr Finch. Pleasure to meet you.” Olivia extended her hand out to Gareth as she entered the door. He was cordial enough to stand upon her entry, though the look he shot her was anything but kind. Still, he glumly extended his hand into a firm handshake.
“I’m Detective Inspector Austin. We spoke on the phone earlier,” Olivia explained as she rounded the table to sit across from her suspect. He gave her a curt nod. “Thank you again for coming down to the station at such short notice.” Still nothing. “Right then. Shall we get started?” Olivia asked, pulling out the recording device. Mr Finch nodded.
“Alright, I am starting this recording at…” Olivia checked her watch, “8.57 p.m. This is Detective Inspector Austin, speaking with Mr Gareth Finch. Mr Finch, can you state your name for the recording please.”
“This is Gareth Finch.” His voice was deep, gruff. His arms folded across his chest; his torso leaned away from the table. He was distant, far off. Olivia was going to see what she could do about that.
“Thank you,” Olivia replied. “And even though my colleague mentioned it to you, I just have to remind you know that there is a camera in the top left-hand corner. No audio just visual. Okay. Right then. Mr Finch we are doing this voluntary interview because your girlfriend, Ella Hebden, went missing last night, and her finger appeared in the post this morning. Do you know anything about her whereabouts yesterday?” she asked. She twiddled the pen in her hand, leaving the tip poised just above her notepad. She pursed her lips, keeping her eyes on the blank piece of paper rather than looking at Gareth. She’d mirror him for a bit, match his attitude, and then use it to encourage him to mirror her in turn.
“Last I saw her, she was leaving our flat in London,” Mr Finch responded. Again, he was succinct. The emotion that seemed to dictate his words on the phone that morning seemed to be tucked away somewhere, hidden from view. Olivia had been banking on his anger flaring up. Hopefully, she could coax it out.
“And what time was that?” She used his curtness and flipped it on him. If he didn’t want to have a conversation, she’d return the favour.
“I dunno, eleven or twelve I suppose,” Gareth replied. He rubbed his neck as he spoke, massaging out invisible kinks in his muscles perhaps. Olivia noticed his bloodied knuckles again, though this time clearer in person, but refrained from commenting.
“And were you in contact with her after she left the flat?” Olivia allowed herself to look pointedly at Gareth as she asked this question. He met her gaze steadily. Has he been coached? she asked herself silently. He was too unapproachable.
Before Gareth could answer, the door swung open to a grinning Lawrence carrying two piping hot disposable cups of tea. He set one in front of Gareth before settling down with his own. He put a manila folder on top of his current stack.
“What’d I miss?” he asked, chipper as ever. Whereas Olivia leaned back and away from Gareth, Lawrence huddled forward, inviting himself into Gareth’s bubble. Smart, Olivia thought. They had certainly found a rhythm of ‘good cop/bad cop’ easily enough.
“We’re just going over the details of Mr Finch’s timeline yesterday,” Olivia replied with a gentle smile. Gareth shifted in his chair, the tell-tale thud of one of its legs echoing throughout the room.
“Brilliant,” Lawrence commented, huddling over his tea.
“So, Mr Finch, were you in contact with Miss Hebden after she left your flat?” Olivia asked again, once more staring into the man’s face.
“She texted me to let me know that she’d made it safely home. Other than that, in all honesty, part of the reason she was going home was we needed a bit of a… cooldown period from one another. Our love can be… extremely passionate at times. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster. We happened to be on a lower part of it the other week, and we hadn’t fully recovered from it yet.” As Gareth explained this last bit, he sat forward to rest his head in his hand, running his fingers through his slicked back hair.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Lawrence, leaning further in. He took a deliberate sip of his tea.
“I mean, you know how it is. I’m an intense guy. So is Ells. We sometimes have spats. We still care desperately for each other, but neither one of us steps down easily from an argument.” Gareth’s voice almost seemed to crack as he spoke about his relationship with Ella. Olivia raised an eyebrow, glancing over to Lawrence. Let me talk for a bit, she projected. Lawrence shifted back in his seat.
“Do you love her?” Olivia let the question hurl into the space as if it was a catapult. That seemed to jolt Gareth out of his calm state.
“What do you mean—of course I love her!” Gareth exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. “What kind of preposterous question is that!?” Olivia slowly leaned back in her seat. He had grabbed the bait. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
“Apologies for any offense, Mr Finch, I just thought it was a good thing to establish,” Olivia replied, careful not to let the feelings of contempt morph into a sneer on her face.
“I don’t even understand why I’m trapped in this room,
anyway,” Gareth started to rant, beginning a pace back and forth. “You lot asked me to come down here, and I did out of courtesy—and because my company lawyer recommended it—but I should be out there, looking for Ells, not interrogated in this station like some criminal!”
Lawrence glanced at Olivia. She shrugged. Evidently, her more offensive strategy was working.
“You’ve consulted with a lawyer?” she asked, twirling her pen as she looked up to Gareth. He didn’t like women having power; she could feel his discomfort radiating off him into the corners of the room.
“In my line of work, I’ve got to,” he insisted, continuing his pace. “Your kind wouldn’t understand. It’s above your paygrade. But yes, I spoke with my lawyer while on the train down here. Our company prefers it if we stay ahead of any sort of legal matter.”
Olivia kept her expression neutral and void of any emotion.
“Would you like them to be present for this interview?” she asked, eyeing the recorder.
Gareth shook his head.
“No, what I’d like is for you to find my girlfriend!” He spat the words out of his mouth and then turned away from them.
There was a steady pause in the room, and the detectives looked at each other.
“That is our goal, Mr Finch. If you could just sit down—” Olivia started, but the man wheeled to face her before she could finish her sentence.
“Don’t tell me to sit down!” he yelled. His face had morphed from a calm chalk white into a livid beet red.
“Mr Finch. Sit. Down.” Olivia stood at this, giving him the sharpest of her glares. “This behaviour is completely inappropriate. Any more aggression and I’ll have to caution you under arrest.” She lowered her tone. “Do you want to help Ella, or do you want to waste valuable time acting out like this?”