by Nic Roberts
Olivia wrote that down and circled it. The hair could have come from anywhere, but it seemed unlikely for a random strand floating in the wind to stick itself into one of his cuts.
Doubly interesting.
“That’s great, Elliot,” she replied, excitement rising in her voice. “It’s not incriminating, but it could help us narrow down suspects.”
“You finally called me Elliot.” The doctor chuckled.
Olivia’s cheeks turned a bright crimson once again. Thankfully, he couldn’t see her.
“Sorry, Dr. James,” Olivia clarified with a nervous laugh.
“No. I like it. Please, it’s Elliot,” he insisted, more warmth in his voice than was fair considering how sweet he already sounded.
“Okay, Elliot,” Olivia replied, a smile slowly unfurling across her face.
“That’s better.” He laughed. “Anyway, yes. The hair isn’t necessarily from the killer, but it could be helpful in the investigation.”
“Brilliant,” Olivia replied, the smile still glued on her face. Something about speaking with the doctor just made her feel positively calm, as though she were floating in the clouds, not tethered to the ground in cold Cornwall.
“That’s all I have so far,” Dr. James sighed.
I wish you had more to tell me, Olivia thought to herself, though she didn’t dare say it aloud. Especially not in the middle of the office. If only Mills and mum could see me now.
“Right, well, that’s been very helpful, Elliot.” She made sure to emphasise his first name. A peal of laughter echoed from the phone.
“It sounds so good coming from you,” he replied, voice also somewhat calm.
Is he flirting with me? The thought jolted Olivia a bit, as though she’d just splashed her face with cold water.
There was no denying, he was good-looking, and it wasn’t as though she was an ogre herself, but the thought of someone flirting with her, Olivia Austin, eternal fuck-up and damaged goods of a woman…
She realised she hadn’t considered that someone could ever be attracted to her again. At least, not anyone that she viewed any kind of longevity with. Three-night stands and pity sex didn’t count. But someone who actually knew her and had at least an idea of her past? How could anyone want to be associated with her after knowing that?
Then again, she could obviously be reading into it too much. It was easy to infer with Dr. James; he had such an openness to him, she could easily create connections that weren’t necessarily there. After all, a man like that had to be attached to someone.
“It’s a nice name,” she replied, quieting her internal conflict in order to respond to the medical examiner.
“I’m glad you think so, Detective Austin.”
“Please, if I’m to call you Elliot, you should call me Olivia.” She smiled. In her mind’s eye, she could see him looking at her. Mischievous yet earnest eyes, full of depth in all of their green glory. Call me Olivia.
“Well then, Olivia,” Elliot replied, voice full again of that earnestness that almost broke Olivia’s heart every time she heard it. “It was a pleasure to speak to you.”
“Likewise. You’ve been very helpful with the case,” Olivia replied demurely, reminding herself that she was still inside a police station, not at home with a glass of wine. The casual nature of their conversation made it feel like she could almost fool herself into thinking they were sharing a candlelit dinner.
“Always happy to help,” Elliot agreed. “Well, I better be off. I’ll call if anything else comes up.”
“Brilliant,” Olivia murmured, the smile now dancing on and off her face.
“Brilliant,” the doctor agreed. “Until next time, Olivia.”
“Until next time, Elliot.”
15
The line stayed open for a moment before the telling click at the end of the call came through. Olivia stared at her desk without really seeing anything at all. Had that really just happened? she wondered.
In some ways, she felt guilty. And even hearing herself think it, she knew it sounded daft, but she couldn’t help but feel bad for enjoying the light-hearted conversation with the doctor.
Of course, she knew Rhys wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life moping around pining for him and what could have been. Her mother constantly said as much. But a proper relationship? Proper feelings? A year and a half later?
She left the confines of her office, hoping that a change of scenery to the kitchen for cup of something might force her to stop this train of thought.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
She poured herself some coffee from Tim’s infamous cafetiere, but a firm tap on her shoulder almost made her drop it.
She spun around, half expecting to see Lawrence standing there with a disgruntled but acquiescing face. Instead, the goofy grin of one Police Constable Andrew Shaw greeted her. She let out a surprised gasp.
“Shaw?” She was reminded how surprisingly good the officer looked in his uniform. His hair, quite in contrast to Sunday morning’s bed head, was immaculately styled, and there was no trace of an afternoon shadow on his chin. He could have been the poster boy for the police force.
She tried not to think about the fact that she’d seen Shaw in his ‘altogether’ and that his body was just as impressive as the way he cleaned up.
“Olivia,” he replied with a smirk. She wanted to smack him for startling her, yet somehow, it was also somewhat of a relief to see him. He had a calming presence about him.
“What are you doing in the office?” she managed to ask, eyes still wide with surprise. She leaned against the counter, attempting nonchalance.
“I had to run a few things up to Grumps and Susan,” he answered. “And then I saw you sneaking out of your office. I couldn’t leave without saying hello. Plus, I wanted to make sure that you got home okay after… Well, after everything on Sunday morning.” Amusement flashed behind Shaw’s eyes.
Olivia flushed. Of course, he’s bringing Sunday up.
“That was quite the adventure, wasn’t it?” she commented, holding the warm mug of coffee in her hands.
“You can say that again.” Shaw laughed. “I started the night as one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole of Devon and Cornwall Police and finished the next morning with a lovely detective fleeing my flat.”
His eyebrows danced as he spoke, his voice tickled with amusement.
“Um, sorry to break it to you, but you’re still an eligible bachelor,” Olivia teased, challenging him with her stare. “And sorry about my attitude when I woke up. I’m a misery in the mornings.”
Shaw rolled his eyes with mock bother.
“I could’ve told you that,” he retorted. He had placed his hand on the counter a mere foot from Olivia’s hip. When had that happened? The two stood in a tense quiet, neither daring to look away from the other. What’s your move, Shaw? Olivia asked herself.
Ever since he’d turned up at Sam Mercers house and essentially ‘saved the day’, she’d felt a bond with him. Some kind of connection. Whether it was because she most probably owed him her life, or there was something deeper there. But the fact that she’d left Susan’s party with the intention of having sex with him meant something at least.
“So, where’s Dean?” Shaw asked, breaking the silence.
Olivia’s eyebrows rose. Did her colleagues assume it was weird to see her without her partner nearby?
“Oh,” she started, debating if it was worth scrambling for an excuse or best to just tell Shaw the truth. My partner can’t stand to be in my company because I screamed in the face of an abused child. It had a nice ring to it.
Andrew tilted his head, waiting for her response, still maintaining close eye contact.
“He was, um,” the staff kitchen lights suddenly felt a little too bright. “He called in sick this morning, so I’m in by myself.” She hoped Shaw didn’t detect the forlornness in her voice.
A gentle laugh from him made her release her breath, realising h
e wasn’t as good at reading her body language as Lawrence was. Of course, he isn’t good at reading your body language, she reprimanded herself. You’ve spent all of three waking hours in the same room as him.
“That’s unfortunate,” he replied with a devilish gleam in his eye. “Not like him to be off sick. You two make a good pair, by the way.”
She let his comment linger in the air for a moment.
He diverted his cheeky stare down to her lips and then back up to her eyes.
“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Andrew,” she replied, keeping her voice low so as not to get the attention of the office gossips. “Professionally, absolutely. We’re a great team.”
He was almost towering over her at this point, and she had to tilt her chin up a bit in order to meet his flirty gaze with her steady one.
“Of course,” he agreed, his voice matching her own tone. “An impressive professional record, I’ve been told.”
His radio crackled, and he took a deep breath, shook his head, and moved back out of her personal space.
“Listen, I’ve got to get going.” He sighed reluctantly. “But I wanted to give you this first.” He reached out his hand to reveal a small piece of paper with his name and number scribbled down.
Olivia bit her lip to stop from smiling broadly, a singular eyebrow shooting up as if to say are you fucking kidding me?
“You’re honestly trying to pick me up in the staff kitchen, Duracell?” she demanded, looking from the note to Shaw in amazement. She emphasised his nickname, which prompted a light laugh from him.
“Not trying to pick you up,” he replied with an easy smile. “Just giving you a way to communicate in case you needed to debrief more about the other night.”
Olivia couldn’t tell if he was seriously attempting earnestness or just toying with her.
“Debrief?” she asked, settling in for a mini interrogation.
“Talk,” Shaw insisted, raising his hands in mock defence. “I just want to make sure you feel comfortable about what happened and that you know you can reach out if you need to.”
She didn’t quite know what to do with that information. Was Shaw actually concerned about her feelings?
He gently set the note next to Olivia on the counter, once again entering her personal space briefly before pulling back.
“And if you feel great about what happened and how Sunday went,” he explained, his voice almost a whisper. “That’s fine by me. I just don’t want you to feel like anything’s been left unresolved.”
Trina came into the kitchen to put her mug in the sink. She saw them both, gave a weak smile, and ducked back out quickly.
Shaw cleared his throat.
“I appreciate it,” Olivia responded after a minute, making sure that no one else was loitering by the door. “Don’t think that means I’ll definitely call, though. But still. It’s a nice thought.” She glanced down at the paper but still without taking it.
“My pleasure, Detective Austin,” Andrew replied with a tell-tale smirk before he gave a small bow, mostly a nod of his head. It was almost charming.
“Have a good shift,” Olivia offered as he walked away. She looked down to the note and tapped her cup of coffee, indecision plaguing her thoughts. What would it imply if she took it? If she didn’t?
“You and Duracell getting friendly?” DC Tim Harris’ question brought Olivia back to reality.
He reached past her and surveyed his nearly empty cafetiere.
“Not at all,” she snapped, trying her best to remain stoic. “He just...”
Both of their eyes rested on the PC Shaw’s note, his number sunny side up.
“Uh, apologies, Liv,” Tim answered. “I didn’t mean to insinuate...”
She saw almost saw him wince at the sheer awkwardness of the situation. DC Harris was absolutely harmless. It wasn’t his fault, in this case, that she felt in order to get over something, she had to get under someone else. It was her own flaw. She’d seen Andrew at Susan’s party and spent copious amounts of time being charmed by him before wanting to go back to his flat. She’d made her bed, and now it was time to lay in it.
She watched her colleague refill his cafetiere. Always thinking of others, he was.
“Sorry Tim,” she apologised. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m just… I’m on edge, I guess.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Tim replied, though Olivia was certain he never made those kinds of mistakes. “No offense taken. I shouldn’t have even asked. Biccy?”
He offered a pack of digestives toward her. Now she felt even worse. He smiled when she declined and pushed the plunger down to make the next batch of coffee for the office.
“See you in a bit.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he left Olivia alone with her thoughts.
Fuck, she thought to herself. How long am I going to have to deal with this gossip mill?
With as much discretion as she could muster, Olivia quietly scooped up the paper containing Shaw’s phone number. Just in case I need to berate him for talking about me, she assured herself as she slipped it into her pocket. She almost believed herself, too.
After a long day of following rabbits down holes of leads, Olivia finally felt ready to go home. She tried her best to ignore Lawrence’s empty chair as she packed up for the night. Still, it was though it was watching her every move, reminding her that she had been alone for the day. Don’t you miss him? it seemed to taunt her.
After the day of reviewing notes and following leads, she felt thoroughly prepped for any interviews they may have to do with students or faculty in the coming days. She had pored over pages upon pages of information regarding Simon Fisher and the school he worked for. Really, all she needed to do now was get her hands on some solid evidence. She just didn’t want to have to do it without Lawrence, she realised.
He’ll be back in tomorrow, she told herself. He has to be.
After dinner and half of a glass of wine, she curled herself into her couch with Earnest and a silly rom com. She didn’t particularly like the genre in and of itself, but it was the least likely to trigger a panic response, so she stuck with it in all of its saccharine glory. There was something satisfying about consuming media meant for women, too. She’d managed to get to the point where the two almost-lovers confessed their mutual, hidden feelings for one another. This one was actually quite compelling, if she allowed herself to put everything else out of her mind and focus on it.
Shaw’s number burned in her pocket, reminding her that he was merely a phone call away. She pulled it out, twirling it back and forth between her fingers. Earnest batted at it, too.
“Should I call him?” she asked, turning to look at her cat. His bright yellow eyes stared back.
“You’re right,” she agreed, putting the now slightly crumpled piece of paper on her coffee table. “The only company I need at night is you, Mr. Earnest.”
That earned her a deep meow.
“That’s right,” she chuckled, swirling her glass of wine before taking a sip. “It’s you and me, boy.”
She curled into the couch, settling in for a night alone. And although the absence of Lawrence throughout her day had made her feel slightly more lonely than normal, she realised as she sat back that she didn’t mind not having anyone to share the film, a bottle of wine, or the evening with. Getting your own space is a premium these days, she told herself. Now all she had to do was believe that.
16
By some miracle, Olivia woke without a nightmare plaguing her dreams. Her morning routine felt light without the weight of Rhys haunting her eyes every time she closed them. She was in good spirits upon arriving to the office, and she surprised even herself with her overly positive attitude. What’s gotten into me?
She’d barely settled into her desk and removed her coat before her mobile rang. Her caller ID identified the other end as Clara Fitzroy.
“Hello?” Olivia answered, fumbling around in her pocket to find her notepad. The
analyst had a knack for calling at inopportune times.
“Olivia!” Clara exclaimed. She was excited, and just from her voice, the detective sensed it might be big. “You’re not going to believe it!”
“Is that so?” Olivia asked, pressing the cap on her pen, poised to take a flurry of notes. If Clara was good at one thing, it was rambling at the speed of a hundred words per minute. It was honestly impressive, if not sometimes frustrating to keep up with. Still, the thought of Clara’s tizzy of words gave Olivia a faint smile.
“Get this...” she breathed excitedly. “I hacked Simon Fisher’s computer!”
Olivia could hear the pride in her voice.
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” She exclaimed. “You’re brilliant!”
“I’m well aware of that,” her colleague joked. “And I’m glad you’re finally catching on, too.”
Olivia could practically see her smile. It was certainly infectious.
“Buuuuuut, and it’s a long but!” Clara continued. “You’re going to want to hear this, Liv. He’s got hundreds of love letters to his student on here. They’re really provocative stuff. Lots of poetry and promises of love and forever.”
“Hundreds of letters?” Olivia repeated, eyes wide. “Does it say anything about who it could be?”
There was a momentary sound of keys being pressed on the other end.
“I wish,” Clara answered. “They’re clearly to a dummy email account. And before you ask, it was accessed on the school’s IP address, so it really could have been anyone who uses the library or IT room, if they have access. And he never uses her name; just refers to her as Bright Star. Kind of a weird nickname if you ask me.”
Clara was always one for commentary; it made Olivia smile.
“Bright Star,” Liv echoed. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “I’ll call up Lawrence. He might know what that means,” she started, kicking herself as the words tumbled out of her lips. Except he doesn’t want to talk to you, idiot, she scolded herself silently.