APRIL FOOLS KILLERS

DI OLIVIA AUSTIN - BOOK FORTY-SIX

NIC ROBERTS

Copyright © 2025 by Nic Roberts

‘April Fools Killers’

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Some may be used for parody purposes.

Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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PROLOGUE

Twenty years earlier

Sara pressed her foot against the pedal, not caring that she might be breaking the speed limit. She checked the clock on her phone. Her destination was a twenty-two-minute drive away. She needed to be there in seven minutes.

The divorce battle had worn her down over the last few months. She’d tried to be diplomatic about the process, but her husband was determined to have his pound of flesh. He’d threatened to come after her for everything she owned.

He’d even threatened to take the car, telling her at length about how he was going to take out all her ‘trinkets’, including a prized photograph of her deceased father that she kept in the glove box. It wasn’t worth anything in money, but it was a way of hurting her. Priceless.

She needed to go and see her son whom she’d left with a family friend. Sara had worked damn hard to make sure that her son Louie had been protected throughout the whole process, knowing that his father would have no issue with dragging him into the mess and even weaponising him against her. He still asked her a lot of awkward questions about his daddy, questions she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to answer until he was much older.

She hated the idea of him having to grow up so fast, but she was doing this for him. She knew that if his dad remained in his life, he’d only fuck the kid up. Better to get him out of the way now.

The sun weighed heavily in the sky as she tore down the country road. She didn’t have to worry about running into any other cars. Barely anyone came down the route.

She didn’t care about the money or the house or anything else he was threatening to take from her. But she wouldn’t let him take her son.

Sara sped up, trying to make up for lost time, when she saw a car appear at the end of the road. She pressed down on the brakes to slow the car down… but nothing happened.

She was hurtling towards the car now and slammed her foot on the pedal repeatedly.

Still nothing happened.

The car refused to slow down.

Sara did the only thing she could do and punched the horn, praying that the driver would swerve out of the way in time.

Knowing that the collision was inevitable, Sara closed her eyes, praying that the world would still be there when she opened them again, and tried thinking of her little boy, hoping she pulled through for him.

The police were disheartened to see that there were no survivors to the crash.

One driver had been killed on impact, breaking his neck and leaving his head limp at a questionable angle as he lay slumped in the driver’s seat.

The woman had been thrown through the car’s windshield and landed on the ground, her face skidding against the ground as she ground to a halt. When one of the paramedics had turned her over, they saw how half of her face had been shredded against the gravel. They could only hope that she was dead upon impact.

Police wanted to chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. A simple collision. But there had been no skid marks on the offending car. Why hadn’t the woman thought to apply the brakes? It was far too early to tell if it was suicide, considering the less painful alternatives.

While the police would comb over all the evidence at their disposal, very little attention was paid to the most crucial clue. The day the incident had taken place.

April 1st.

1

Olivia Austin woke with a groan, wanting to get up, but her body refused to obey.

She sniffed at the air, the faint whiff of coffee filled her nostrils, and her eyes drifted over to the cup placed on the bedside table.

She turned over on her bed, feeling the space where her beloved had been lying only minutes earlier. His pillow still carried the scent of him, and she ran her hand over the imprint, wishing he was back in bed with her.

She was aware of the sound of a shower running and soon turned over to see Dean Lawrence standing over her, his torso still wet from the shower and a towel wrapped around him, his magnificent pecs on full display.

“Come back to bed,” she asked groggily, patting his side of the mattress.

“Can’t, sorry,” he replied, leaning in for a kiss. “You of all people know there’s no rest for the wicked.” He silenced her with another peck, hoping she’d settle for the taste of him.

She reached over for the mug of coffee to jolt her awake… only to suddenly remember what day it was. “You’d better not have any April Fool’s Day prank lined up,” she suggested, looking up at Dean with searching eyes.

“I don’t buy into that pranking crap,” he replied, holding his hands up in innocence.

“You’d better not,” she insisted, taking the cup. “I swear to God, if you’ve put salt in this…” She sipped at the drink. Creamy, lots of sugar, just the way she liked it.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I value my life too much to pull any stunts with you.”

She enjoyed the warmth of the coffee, the heat from the spring sun blaring in through the window, even as her own mood suddenly darkened.

“You going to be okay with holding the fort?” she asked as she pulled the covers off, unable to put it off for much longer.

“Of course, I am,” he replied, throwing off the towel and starting to get a suit together. “Though I still think you should let Diana have some space.”

PC Diana Hershel had been responsible for bringing in a corrupt copper who was still having a case built against him. And given that the offending copper had worked closely with Diana in the weeks leading up to his arrest, and knew where she lived as well as her relationship with Clara Fitzroy, Diana had been living in constant panic that PC Robert Lister was going to try and get his revenge. So, Diana was adamant about leaving Newquay with Clara and starting a new life elsewhere.

“I think Diana just needs some time to calm down,” Dean assured her. “Clara will keep her here as long as she has family here.”

But Liv was sure it would take more than that and felt that Diana would need a great deal of reassurance. “I’ll be kicking myself if I don’t try.”

Liv felt a pang of guilt that she didn’t visit Diana and Clara’s place more frequently. She tried to tell herself it was a matter of finding the time, what with work being so consuming. But this was the first time she’d been around there since Robert Lister’s arrest.

She knocked on the door, wondering if the couple were even in.

Finally, the door opened, and Clara was stood in the doorway. Liv looked the technician over. “How are you doing, Clara?” she asked, full of concern.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” Clara replied, and Liv found herself assessing her friend and colleague as she would a suspect. She doesn’t seem to be breaking into a nervous sweat, babbling, or at a loss for words. But maybe she was just better at hiding it than her wife. “You’d better come in.”

Liv walked through the hallway to the sound of something soft thudding in the background. She came into the bedroom and saw Diana shoving items into a suitcase, seemingly oblivious to the presence of her friend or her wife.

“Diana?” Liv asked, prompting the PC to look up. 

“Liv,” she said, surprised, and in a tone that suggested she didn’t have the time for a long, drawn-out discussion.

“You planning on going somewhere?” the inspector asked, trying to keep it casual.

“Don’t you have some suspects you should be throwing those questions at?” Diana asked pointedly, which Liv tried to ignore.

“Look, I can assure you, me and Collins are doing everything we can to make sure that the case against Lister is watertight,” Liv assured her, wanting to put her hand on the PC’s shoulder in comfort but feeling like it was too much like approaching a caged animal. “He’s going to go away for a long time, and when he does, you won’t have to worry about him.”

“Liv’s right, sweetheart,” Clara insisted, pushing past their boss and trying to get through to her. “He’s not got a good future ahead of him. You think about it. A bent copper banged up alongside the criminals he probably had a hand in putting away, he’d be better off dead.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Diana asked. “He made it clear that he was going to get me for what I did to him.”

“Not trying to play it down,” Liv added, making a questionable attempt at humour. “But I hear that kind of thing two or three times a week.”

“Yeah, but most of them weren’t coppers with connections,” Diana retorted. “Are you honestly going to tell me that he was able to set up a house to keep her on only a PC’s salary? He had to have had help.”

Liv nodded slowly. She had considered the possibility that Robert Lister might not be working alone. They’d been going over his finances, and a DNA test had been ordered for the baby that was claimed to be his. That would be the most damning piece of evidence against the corrupt officer.

“We need you back at work,” Liv said. “Trust me, Diana, I know how you feel. I have had my entire family targeted by people before. And I would be lying if I told you there was no risk to you or Clara. But that’s the risk we take when we do this job.”

“Can you guarantee that me and my wife are going to be all right?” Diana asked.

Clara once again intervened. “Diana, if you want me to stay off, I will. I won’t leave you alone to deal with this. But we’ve built a whole life here, family, friends. We can’t let all of that go just because of some pervert. And there are going to be cases that could be all hands on deck. What do I do if they need an administrator? I don’t want to look back on these days and realise I could have helped.”

Nicely played, Clara.

Diana didn’t change her reaction, but Liv could tell that Clara had managed to get through to her wife, if only a little bit.

“You might see me again later on,” Diana said, clasping Clara’s hand. “But I need a bit of time.”

Liv nodded understandingly. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” She let herself out and headed into work.

Here’s hoping that no cases come along in the next few days that require all hands on deck.

2

Liv walked into the station where Detective Constable Andrew Shaw was waiting for her. “I don’t need to play twenty questions to guess where you’ve been, do I?”

“I’m guessing you’ve tried talking to her?” Liv asked, knowing how close the two had been while Andrew was a police constable. She had hoped that bond would be enough to get through to Diana.

“Well, I tried to remind her that she’d never find a partner as entertaining as me,” Andrew joked, though the humour came with a sharper edge than usual.

“She can’t run away from all this,” Liv insisted.

“Yeah, and I’ve tried telling her that,” he replied. “But I’ve been pretty much torn between my freedom of speech and my desire to avoid a bollocking. She’ll realise how much she’s needed here. It’ll have to be something she realises in her own time rather than having it forced down her throat. She’s a good copper. She just needs a decent case to get her teeth into.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “Well, I apologise for Newquay’s low murder rate.”

“She’ll come round,” he replied confidently. “She needs this job.”

“So, you’re not worried about Lister making threats against her?” Liv asked, appreciating Diana’s concerns considering the number of people involved.

“Liv, if we went climbing under a rock every single time some fucker threatened us, the copper turnover rate would go through the roof. We can always take another stab at Lister… metaphorically or literally.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass,” Liv said, grateful for the lightness.

She made her way up the stairs to the CID offices to get started on the day’s cases.

Thankfully, everything was so low-key that Liv felt she could focus on a more important task at hand, persuading Diana to remain in Newquay.

She thought about Robert Lister and considered having a crack at him, but she knew she'd have to run It through Superintendent Collins first.

This was supposed to be a happy time. She and Dean were gearing up for their wedding, a day that had never felt so close, and she felt like it was cursed to be followed up by the latest shitstorm. What else can go wrong?

Faye moved through the water, every movement punctuated with grace and elegance.

She spent almost all of her free time at the swimming baths. She didn't know if she could ever go pro, but it was a nice little fantasy, one that sustained her through the mundaneness of her office job.

She bobbed her head up and out of the water every now and then to get a glimpse of the end of the pool coming closer and closer…

Suddenly, her arm froze.

Faye wondered if it was just fatigue settling in, but the arm remained fixed in place, refusing to move. It was as though the entire limb had been paralysed.

She tried to kick forwards with her legs, but she found that they were refusing to work. What the f—

Now she was starting to panic as she failed to keep herself afloat. She tried to let out a cry for help, but her face disappeared beneath the surface.

She could feel herself sinking to the bottom of the pool, the water pouring into her mouth and nose and filling her lungs.

Faye wondered what was happening to her. Her mind was racing. It seemed to be the only thing that was still working.

Would somebody in the pool see her sinking to the bottom and call for help?

At the rate she was losing consciousness, Faye already knew it would be too late.

3

This is definitely a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’, Liv thought as she walked into the leisure centre, DS Archie Elmhurst walking alongside her.

“So, what are we thinking here?” Archie asked. “Are we looking at a murder or a suicide?”

“From what I understand, the victim was in the middle of swimming and then she went under the water. Nobody even noticed it,” she responded, wishing she could write it off as an accidental drowning, but knowing that cases like these were never simple, her suspicions were already tweaked.

“What do we know about the victim?” Archie asked, always wanting to know the person rather than the corpse. No matter how painful, it gave them both that extra push to close a case.

“Faye McDowell, nineteen years old, visiting as part of a family holiday,” she explained with a grimace. Family cases were always the worst. “She’d come here for a swim, apparently it was something she did as part of a regular routine, and then she just…” She paused, struggling to find the right words.

The pool had since been cleared, but there was no sign of forensics. Clearly, nobody felt able—or willing—to admit foul play.

A white sheet had been placed over the body, and two middle-aged people were sitting in a crumpled heap at the edge of the pool, trapped in an outpouring of grief.

“Mr and Mrs McDowell?” Liv asked tentatively as she knelt down to the couple. “My name is Detective Inspector Austin, this is Detective Sergeant Elmhurst. I am so sorry for your loss…”

“She said she was only popping out for a few hours,” the mother exclaimed as she sobbed into her husband’s chest. “It was only supposed to be a few hours.”

Part of Liv wanted to leave the questioning for later and allow them to come to terms with the immediate shock, but she needed information while it was still fresh.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of what happened to your daughter,” Archie implored encouragingly.

“I just don’t understand,” the father stated in a hoarse voice. “She was always such a strong swimmer. For her to just drown, it…”

So maybe we can rule out accidental.

“I’m really sorry to ask you this,” Live began tentatively. “But did Faye have any history of mental health difficulties? Anxiety or depression—”

“Absolutely not,” Mrs McDowell insisted instantly. “She was bubbly and full of life. She was talking about all these things that she was going to do…” Her face crumpled as the cold reality set in. “And now she’s never going to do any of them.”

Liv looked to the body, trying to get a sense of the girl’s state of mind. “She came here alone, right? There was nobody else with her?”

“Of course, there wasn’t!” Mr McDowell snapped. “She came here for a bit of peace and quiet.”

“And how long ago did you arrive in Newquay?” Liv asked dubiously.

“We got here about three days ago,” the mother explained.

Liv looked at the body. “Thank you both. We’ll be back in a minute.” She motioned for Archie to follow her to the edge of the pool where they stood over the teenage girl’s body.

“So, if it’s not an accident, and they’ve told us it’s not suicide…” Liv said slowly.

“I don’t think you can call it murder,” Archie chimed in. “She was on holiday. I can’t imagine her building up an enemy list in a matter of days. Eyewitnesses have been saying the same thing—that she was in the middle of the pool and then sank, and there was no one near her. So, unless there’s something we’re not seeing, I don’t know what other explanation there could be.”

4

Fifteen years earlier

Detective Inspector Vic Maitland stood over the swimming pool, trying to make sense of the young man who’d died in the pool.

At first glance, it didn’t seem like a suspicious death. Nobody had been about when the young man had died. They weren’t even aware that a local swimmer had been dealing with a case of life and death.

“I don’t think we’re looking at a typical case of drowning,” he said as he leaned down. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Right, of course,” DS Gareth Becker chimed in, clearly pushing to see what he could get away with. “Is that what you’re actually seeing or what you actually want to see?”

“You watch your tone with me,” Vic replied, turning around and facing the younger man. “You’re not in my job yet.”

But he could feel time starting to catch up with him. It was hard to believe that only a year ago, he’d been receiving an award for officer of the year. No one could have imagined that the golden boy of Cornwall CID would one day be investigated for charges of police brutality and corruption. So far, no charges had been brought against him, but it didn’t matter to them. To be accused was as good as being guilty.

And he’d had people approach him to suggest that it might be ‘in the best interest of the service’ if he quietly retired while he still had a pension to protect.

But he knew he wasn’t going to go quietly. It would become very expensive for the police to get rid of him, so for the time being, they were stuck with him. And he was determined to use whatever time he had left to reclaim that former glory.

But most people got the impression that he was simply fishing, more focused on finding the case that would light a fire underneath him rather than being a decent detective, something they were quick to remind him.

“You going to go over and speak to the family?” DS Becker asked, gesturing to the grieving parents.

“You can,” Vic replied, too enraptured by the young man lying on the slabs before him.

“You’re wasting your time,” the DS said as he moved away. “Worst case scenario, it’s probably going to be an April Fool's Joke gone wrong.”

It was an innocuous throwaway comment, but it did get Vic thinking about the irony of the date.

Even so, he didn't feel there was any further he could take the case.

The next day, another body turned up, and this one looked suspiciously like an accident.

If the focus had been on the accident itself, then Vic probably would have dismissed it as such. But coming after the accidental drowning…

That was the thing about accidents. They implied that there was no one to blame.

So, he started asking around the family and friends of the victims to see if they had any enemies or any confrontations. As expected, they couldn’t think of any reason why someone would want the two people dead.

Later that evening, he decided to forego his usual drink down the pub to start going over the case files, ignoring all of the people who were watching him with scorn as they filed out of the office.

His mobile rang, and he could see that it was a withheld number. “DI Maitland.”

“I understand you’re looking for me.”

Vic bolted upright in his chair. “Who is this?”

“You know exactly who this is and what I’ve been getting up to over the past few days,” the voice replied in a tone that was smooth and silk-like. There was no hint of bluff present. It could just be a prank call…

“What do you want?” Vic asked, reaching around for something to take down information.

“I want you to bring me in,” the voice continued. “I’ve got a compulsion to confess, I suppose you could call it.”

“So, why don’t you just walk into the station and hand yourself in?” Vic asked, even though he felt a little disappointed by what would be a huge anti-climax.

“I could, but I imagine you’d want a bit of spectacle. A way of lighting the fire underneath your floundering reputation,” the caller explained.

Part of Vic wanted to tell the caller to fuck off, but the mention of his reputation propelled him to abandon all logic. “What do you want?”

“I’m going to give you an address, and I want you there in twenty minutes. If you’re not there exactly twenty minutes from now, I’m gone. If there are any police in the background, or I think there are any police waiting for me, I’m gone. And that golden shot of redemption is gone with me. So, you’re going to have to work very hard to keep me around. Do you understand?”

Vic hated it being told what to do, but he tried focusing on all the accolades he’d receive for bringing in a burgeoning serial killer, all of his sins being washed away.

“Okay,” he finally responded. “Where do you want to meet?”

5

Liv watched as the body was lifted onto a stretcher and moved out of the pool area. She still couldn’t get her head around what’d happened. Maybe the post-mortem will tell a different story.

“I’ve spoken to everyone who was in the pool at the time the incident took place,” he started, and she silently noted how he’d used the word ‘incident’. “And no one even noticed anything until she was underneath the water. Two people tried to pull her out and resuscitate her, but it was too late.” Seeing that Liv wasn’t going to let this one go, he gently added, “We can find out more later. We can’t go making connections where there aren’t any.”

Liv nodded reluctantly. To be continued.

With no other cases to work on, Liv decided to check in with Detective Superintendent Collins to find out about how the case against Robert Lister was progressing.

“Well, God forbid we ever get a suspect that decides to go quietly,” he responded. “His brief says that he is a victim of entrapment and has been going over the man’s service record… which is something we’ve been required to do.”

Liv sighed. It was always a headache when coppers were investigated and their previous work was scrutinised. “And what exactly are you looking for?” she asked dubiously.

“Any evidence of wrongdoing,” he replied expasively. “Any hint of coercing witnesses or sexual misconduct. I’m hoping that we can find someone else willing to come forward, but the biggest clincher is Getting the DNA test from the child. That'll be the biggest nail in his coffin.”

“It's not exactly going to be a big nail,” Liv responded. “That will get him struck off the police and a suspended sentence. I'd like a punishment with a bit more longevity.”

“And I assume you're not making this request in the interest of sentencing,” Collins noted empathically. “This is about PC Hershel, isn’t it?”

Liv found herself collapsing into a chair, weighed down by the exhaustion of it all. “I want to be able to assure her that she doesn’t have anything to worry about. That she can come back to work and settle into something resembling normality.” She paused, waiting for Collins to say something. “Um, isn’t this supposed to be the part where you come back with ‘there’s nothing in it for her to worry about?’”

Collins swayed in his seat a little. “I had hoped to talk to you a little bit later about this, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. We are looking into the possibility that PC Lister wasn’t working alone.”

Liv sat in silence, beckoning for her superior to carry on.

“We’ve gone through his financial records, and while regular payments seem to have been made to the house and have been traced back to Lister’s account… it appears that a series of payments were made to his account almost immediately before they went for the house.”

“And where were those payments coming from?” Liv asked.

“We haven’t been able to trace the source account yet, but from what we’ve seen so far, there’s a good chance that it’s not an account originating in the UK,” Collins replied. “So, we could be looking at something much wider.”

“Another copper, do you reckon?” Liv asked, the colour draining from her face.

“Hard to say at this point,” Collins replied. “But I think we’ve got to be cautious moving forward. For all we know, we might not have to contend with just one rotten apple but an entire barrel.”

“And what about Diana?” Liv asked. “She’s petrified that something’s going to happen to her or Clara. And I need to reassure her that either nothing is going to happen or that we can protect them.” When Collins volunteered nothing else, she continued, “Sir, with respect, we cannot reward the loyalty and bravery of one of our best officers with being waved off into the sunset.”

“I promise you, I’m doing everything I can to see charges brought against PC Lister,” he insisted, looking put out, and she felt a little ashamed knowing how hard Collins would fight for the men and women under his command. “I mean, I’m good, but I can’t hold back the tide. And I have to be careful how much I give out to the higher-ups. People are worried that an incident like this is going to leave the public wondering whether the police can be trusted.”

“I wonder why,” Liv muttered sarcastically.

“We’ve just got to hope that they don’t go for any half-arsed deals like public interest immunity,” Collins suggested, breaking from his usual professional stance to showcase his scorn for such deals. “If you think you can get Lister to crack, then be my guest.”

Liv sat in silence as she considered her best approach. This was not the news she wanted to take back to Clara and Diana.

6

Andrew was in a conundrum about what to say to Diana as he walked towards the house. This was the third time he’d visited in the week, and he knew Diana was cottoning on to the fact that there was nothing sociable about these visits.

Clara must have seen him coming because the front door opened when he was still a good few steps away. The two exchanged a knowing look as he walked inside and saw Diana looking out the window, seemingly on high alert.

“Let me guess,” Diana said without turning to look at him. “I’m got to come back to work. I’m highly regarded. People need me. I shouldn’t let them win. Whatever you’ve got to say, I’ve heard it, so please, take your pick. I’m fully prepared for whatever Liv had you come and say.”

“Come on, Diana,” Andrew replied with a hit of disappointment. “I’ve always been on your side. You know that. And contrary to what you may think, I came here because I wanted to. I’m not a ventriloquist’s dummy that needs somebody’s hand up my arse.”

Diana’s facade crumpled, and she looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, Duracell,” she said heavily, turning to face him. “I just don’t know how I can face any of this. I’m worked up about everyone. I even almost tackled the postman earlier because I thought it was one of Lister’s mates.”

“They’re building a case against him,” he insisted gently. “He’s not going to walk away from this unscathed. And let’s be honest, even if there were more shitbags involved in this, why would they come after you? It’s not like you know anything. If there was something they were desperate to keep out of the spotlight, then maybe. But they haven’t. Everything you know is already with the CPS. And assuming anyone else is involved, they’re clearly trying to keep themselves hidden. Why would they waste a lot of time and energy going after you and risking exposing themselves?”

“You talk as though you’ve been in CID for a few years, not a few months,” she snapped.

“I’m just trying to help a mate,” Andrew replied. “And besides, if we did get to a point where you needed protection, don’t you think it’d be better to have it in a station surrounded by a load of police officers? No matter how resourceful people are, no criminal is going to be stupid enough to go after you in a building full of coppers. They might as well just march themselves into the nearest cell. And you know Collins. He’d never let anyone get past the car park.”

Diana smiled at this.

“You have a whole life here and people who care about you,” he went on. “Don’t throw it all away. Whatever is going to happen, we’ll deal with it.”

They were fancy words. Now he just had to hope they had the desired effect.

7

Seb had never experienced so much pain in his life.

He had been working underneath the car for some time, going through the routine that he’d done many times in his career.

There was nobody around as he was fixing the car. He enjoyed that. He felt that he worked best when in complete solitude.

Suddenly, while he was working, the vehicle had come crashing down on him, pinning him to the ground. He screamed in agony and tried to push up the metallic framework crushing his body, but he could barely move his arms. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” he called out, praying that there was someone within hearing distance.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Seb tried to gasp with relief, his efforts hindered by the vehicle gradually crushing his chest. “Thank fucking God. Listen, I need you to go and find someone…” He was rambling by that point, praying to convey all the relevant information before the pain made him pass out.

But the figure didn’t seem to be in any rush to get him help. And Seb wondered whether he’d actually heard anything he’d said. “What are you waiting for, man? Come on! I’m fucking dying here!”

But the figure just continued looking down at him with morbid curiosity, like a child observing an ant frying through a magnifying glass. “I don’t usually get up close and personal like this, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Seb demanded desperately.

“Normally, I think it’s better to keep my own distance, to avoid being detected, of course. Don’t want to attract too much attention. But I’ve got to say, there’s something so gratifying about seeing the lights go out.”

Even though Seb’s mind and body were on the verge of shutting down, there was still one fact that was clear as day to him. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“I mean, I could get somebody to come along and save you, play the hero,” the figure continued, clearly enjoying the banter. “But that car is probably the only thing holding your body together. Even if we got it off you, you’d still probably die from crush syndrome. It’s happened before.”

“Why?” Seb gasped out. He’d since given up on the idea of getting through this, accepting that he was going to die, and settling for asking himself what he’d done to deserve such an agonising death.

“Honestly? Just for a few shits and giggles,” the figure replied nonchalantly. “And if it’s any consolation, people are going to be taking one look at this and thinking it’s an accident. There’ll be no suspicion. They’ll just assume that you didn’t secure the car. By my guess, you only have a few minutes left. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep you company. It’s the least I can do for my warm-up act.”

The figure crouched down next to the dying man and hissed into his ear, “April Fools.”

8

“So, what do you think of this one?”

“Can you give me a moment? Not all of us can multitask.”

Liv’s sister Mills was standing in the shop trying on a white bridesmaid dress while Liv was standing to the sidelines, clutching the pram holding her little niece Annie Austin. Weeks could go by without Liv visiting her sister—mostly due to the latest work crisis—but with Annie growing more noticeably with each new visit, it made Liv more aware of her absence.

And now she was trying to make up for lost time with going dress shopping with her sister, who was struggling to hide her bemusement. “Right then, Liv, it’s your turn.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “I’m not really big on dresses.”

“You are not going up that aisle looking like you’re about to tackle the officiator or read him his rights,” Mills chortled, checking herself out in the mirror before looking over at her little daughter. “Do you think this one’s old enough to be a flower girl?”

Liv looked down at the little girl fiddling with a doll in the pram. “Maybe if you’re OK with her crawling down the aisle.”

She smiled at this, feeling like her perfect wedding was coming together. The spell was broken as the phone started buzzing. “I’m going to make a mental note that you should not get anything that has pockets,” Mills chastised.

Liv nodded at this and saw Archie’s name come up on the caller ID. “Archie, I would advise you to make the explanation you were about to give watertight.”

“Really sorry to bother you on your day off, Liv, but we’ve had reports of a body being found at a local garage.”

“What?” she stammered, taking her attention off Mills and Annie. “A murder?”

“At the moment, it looks like an accident,” he responded. “A bloody gruesome one at that.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Liv responded, glad she didn’t have to worry about changing out of an extensive dress. “I’m really sorry, Mills, I’ve got to take this.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mills replied, putting on a smile despite her disappointment. “As long as nothing like this happens on the day itself.”

Liv gulped at that. Hopefully, the population of Newquay will hold off from killing each other at least until we get to the ‘I do’s.’

“Jesus,” Liv exclaimed as she looked at the car crushing the dead man. His eyes were wide open as he stared up into nothing, the lights having long since gone out.

She couldn’t imagine the pain and distress he must have felt when he died.

“His name was Sebastian Brent,” Archie explained, gesturing to some coworkers. “He worked here as a mechanic. Had done since he finished his apprenticeship seven years ago. Nice lad, very popular. Nobody here had a bad word to say about him.”

Which makes what happened all the more senseless.

Liv walked over to the manager, who was sat slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, unable to look into the main garage where Seb’s body was still pinned.

“Mr Griffin?” Liv asked. “I appreciate this is a difficult time, but I wondered if I could ask you some questions about what’s happened here.”

“Of course,” the mechanic replied in a hoarse voice.

“Was Seb working alone at the time?” she asked.

“Yeah, he liked to put in late hours,” Mr Griffin explained. “He said that he often worked better when there was no one else around.”

“So, you could trust him with setting things up?” she asked, gesturing to the heavy machinery.

“Of course, I could,” he snapped irritably. “He was my best mechanic.”

“So, there was no possibility that this could have been an accident?” she asked, daring to sound hopeful.

“Definitely not,” he replied.

Liv thought to look over the supports holding the vehicle up, a possibility forming in her head. “Thank you, Mr Griffin. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

She rejoined Archie, who was surveying the wreckage. “From what I understand, he was fairly efficient. So, I can’t say he would suddenly make such a mistake out of the blue.”

“It’s the timing of it that bothers me,” Liv explained, prompting Archie to look in her direction. “If this was just something on its own, I could write it off as an unfortunate accident. But following on from the drowning yesterday…”

“You think that someone else is involved?” Archie queried.

“Hard to say at this point, but I think it’d be wrong to dismiss this as a coincidence,” she continued, walking around the crime scene and taking in all the trappings.

“I can’t see what would connect the two,” Liv replied. “Faye wasn’t even a Newquay resident. Not long enough to build up a grudge.”

“Well, I’m definitely seeing a pattern here,” he noted. “Two deaths made to look like accidents.”

“What’s the occasion, though?” Liv asked, starting to think of all the traditions that could generate such a spree. “It’s not Christmas or Halloween… and I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone themed after the Easter Bunny.”

“No,” Archie said slowly. “But it was April Fool’s Day yesterday.”

Liv wanted to scoff, unable to think of any killer who would theme themselves after such a ridiculous day.

“Well, I’ve just got to hope that nobody is that deluded,” she retorted. It’d been nearly a year since she had to deal with a serial killer on the prowl in Newquay, and she would rather not have that problem right now. “I think we need to get everyone together and see if we can put our heads together.” There was a part of her that hoped that this would be the boost Diana Hershel needed to get herself back into uniform. For all I know, I might need every single officer in Newquay on this.

Because if her experience dealing with serial killers had taught her anything, it was that they seldom stopped at two.

9

“Right, then, everyone,” Liv announced when all the team was gathered in her office. “Here’s where we’re at, people. Two victims dead. Faye McDowell, a college student who was on holiday with her family, and Sebastian Brent, a local mechanic. One case of drowning and another case of being crushed by a car.”

“And why aren’t we labelling these as misadventures?” DS Tim Harris asked as he jotted down notes.

“Because it’s two accidental deaths within a short space of time,” Liv started, letting the latter part go unspoken. “One accident, I can accept, but two is stretching credibility somewhat.”

“Did the victims know each other?” Andrew chimed in.

“We haven’t been able to establish a relationship between the two,” Liv explained. “And I think it’d be better to assume that there isn’t. We may have to start rummaging around for other elements later on.” There was an angle she wanted to run specifically by Andrew but felt she needed to build up to it beforehand and definitely not discuss it in front of the entire team.

“We can’t speak for the first victim, but looking through the garage, the supports had been tampered with,” Archie added.

“Which would mean that Seb, at least, was murdered,” Tim noted knowingly.

“Hang about, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We can’t jump to that conclusion just because of a falling car,” Andrew said.

“Maybe we can’t, but the forensics can,” Liv replied. “And when Dr James has done the post-mortem on Faye McDowell, then we can start seeing if there’s anything more suspicious to be looking over.”

“What are we going to do if it’s a serial killer?” Andrew asked.

“At the moment, I can’t think of anything else to do beyond praying that they will get clumsy,” Liv responded, even though at the moment, they hadn’t found anything at the crime scene to even indicate another person had been present.

She was about to start assigning roles to people when the door opened, and Clara stepped up… followed by PC Hershel in full uniform.

“I’m coming back to work, ma’am,” she said, standing to attention. “I want to help.”

Normally, Liv would have been jumping for joy that her colleague and friend had decided to rejoin the fold, but instead she said solemnly, “Well, we’ll definitely benefit from having you back. I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Maybe it has to be,” Diana noted, turning to her wife and grasping Clara’s hand. “I don’t want to look back on these days and realise I could have helped.”

“It’s a good reason to come back,” Liv stated, clapping her hands together to draw the moment to a close. “Right, then, people, roles and responsibilities. Diana, I want you to round up Nick and start doing door to door around the swimming baths and the garage; see if you can find anything. DC Harris, I want to look at any unsolved deaths and if there were any suspicions of foul play. If this is a serial killer, then it could be these two aren’t their first victims. Archie, in a little bit, you and I are going to go to the coroner’s office and see if they’ve got anything to say on the manner of death. DC Shaw, see if you can speak to the family members about their movements. Even if we haven’t got any suspects or motive, we need to at least find out when the killer would have had the opportunity.”

“Understood,” he responded.

“Right then, I suggest you all get to it.” There was a flurry of people rising from their seats, but Liv made a beeline for Andrew before he could walk away. “There’s another task I wanted to ask you about.”

Andrew sighed. “Let me guess, you want me to ask Dr Pike to come in and run a profile on the killer, right?”

Liv smiled awkwardly. “You beat me to it. I would ask her myself, but I figured it might be better coming from you. You could easily work some of your magic on her.”

“I think you’re overestimating my way with people,” the young officer responded. “Remember, the DC stands for Detective Constable, not Dashing Charmer. And I don’t know how receptive she’ll be.”

Liv felt a little ashamed at asking Andrew to speak to the esteemed psychiatrist, remembering that they’d only broken up a few months ago, and no doubt, there’d still be some raw wounds. “How are things between you now?”

“Well, we’ve not been at each other’s throats for the past few months. In fact, we’ve barely had any contact with each other,” he replied. “As far as I’m aware, she’s pretty much locked herself away in the study to keep on working on her latest book.”

“Well, maybe you could make the point that she will have some fresh material to go through if she comes and helps us,” Liv replied, knowing Helen would not pass up the opportunity. “I’d ask her myself, but I’d prefer not to get a door in the face.”

“I’ll have a word with her and see what I can do,” he responded.

“Good man,” she declared, deciding to update Collins on the case. “I should say, at the moment, there isn’t going to be much for her to go off of.”

“So, do you think it could be a serial killer?” he asked with a weary expression. “Why can’t we go back to the days where the worst we had to deal with was the occasional purse snatcher.”

“Well, it’s still early days yet, but we’re hoping to get something together with more evidence.”

“At least, I can take comfort in knowing that my best people are working on it,” he admitted, shuffling in his chair. “Speaking of best people… I don’t know how many resources this case is going to eat up, but just in case things get messy, I’m going to look at having DI Lawrence overseeing everything to do with the Lister case.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, not looking to get territorial with her fiancé over a case. “He should have it all in hand.”

“I noticed Diana putting in an appearance,” he acknowledged with a smile. “I don’t know how this case is going to pan out, but I can assure you that we’re going to do whatever we can to make her feel safe enough to work here.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, sir,” Liv responded.

“I guess the only thing left to do is make sure that the media don’t get wind of it,” he warned, still wary of the battering the station’s reputation had taken over the previous year.

Before Liv could mutter a response, her phone pinged. “That’s Dr James. He says he’s finished the autopsy on Faye McDowell.”

10

“So, what do you think it’s going to end up being?” Archie asked as they waited in the reception area. “Would I sound really bad if I said I’d rather this was death by misadventure?”

“It’s better than the alternative,” Liv replied, having read somewhere that drowning was one of the worst ways for a person to die. She shuddered at the agony Faye must have felt. That was the cruellest things about these deaths. They weren’t over quickly and painlessly. The victims took their time dying, having enough time to understand what was happening to them and not being able to say goodbye to any loved ones. No one to offer any comfort in their final moments.

Elliot James walked out into the corridor and greeted the two sombrely. Liv enjoyed the pathologist’s company a great deal, however, she found herself wishing that she saw him under more idealistic circumstances.

“Well, it’s done,” he explained. “And there were some very odd findings.”

“Such as?” Archie asked impatiently.

“Well, her body showed signs of being affected by a paralysing agent,” he responded. “I’m not entirely sure what yet. Going to have to send off for a toxicology report, but she would have received the substance within the hour of her death. And given what she had planned for the day, I think it’s safe to assume that she is unlikely to have taken it herself.”

“How would she have received the drug?” Liv asked.

“I checked her over for any needle marks, so it wasn’t injected into her, and I think we can assume that it wasn’t forced on her. My only guess would be that she unknowingly ingested it, perhaps orally. “That would be my best guess, as there were signs of paralysis around the throat. Possibly in something that she ate or drank.”

Liv looked to Archie. “I think Sam would have taken in some of the girl’s items as evidence. I think there was a water bottle among them.”

“I’m sure we could have that tested,” Archie suggested before looking to the pathologist. “So, it’s looking like she was murdered?”

“I’d say so,” Elliot responded before giving his own opinion. “As for who could have done it, I am not sure. That would depend on the drug. It could be something that you get over the counter at your local pharmacy, or it could be something only found in certain occupations of medicine. Either way, I will know more when I’ve got the toxicology report.”

“Well, hopefully, we won’t have to wait too long,” Liv responded, conscious of the waiting games she’d had to play in some cases. “There’s a couple who want to know how their daughter died, and I’d prefer to tell them in person rather than over the phone.”

“I appreciate that,” Elliot acknowledged, “but I’m not a technopath. I can’t make the tests go by any quicker.”

“Well, this is all good, Doctor. Thank you.”

“So, it’s definitely murder,” Archie said glumly.

“Yes,” she muttered, thinking over the information Elliot had provided her, with a more comprehensive report certain to pop up in her inbox soon. “But we know that the killer would have had to get close enough to her to poison her. So, it’s possible he would have stuck around to watch her die. You know how these killers like to insert themselves into the narrative.”

“So, he would have to get into the ladies’ changing rooms to pull that stunt off,” Archie suggested.

“Perhaps not. If she was in the water, she probably wouldn’t have been paying attention on anything else.”

“We could always check to see if the swimming baths have security cameras,” the sergeant said. “Maybe see if there were any hoverers in the area. Although that still doesn’t explain how he would have been able to get close enough to the garage.”

“Why don’t we cross that bridge when we get to it?” Liv asked, feeling the puzzle growing overly complicated and wanting to find something that made the slightest bit of sense.

11

“So, you were the lifeguard on duty at the time?” Liv asked a blonde man with a chiselled physique.

“Yes, I was,” he replied, holding out his hand. “I’m Derek.”

She shook it tentatively, noting that he seemed alarmingly chipper considering that a swimmer had died on his watch. “We wanted to ask you some questions about the young woman who died yesterday.”

His face fell. “Ah, yes, that was really sad. Really feel sorry for the family.”

Is he reciting from a company manual?

“Did you have any contact with the victim?” Liv held up a picture of Faye McDowell for him to see.

“I didn’t, no,” he replied.

“Did you see any sign that she was in immediate distress?” Liv asked, as a rough translation of why didn’t you do your job?

“Well, I didn’t see any splashing and nobody was screaming,” Derek responded, as though that was the bare minimum for signs of drowning.

“Did you see anyone coming up to the benches and looking like they shouldn’t be there?” Archie asked, having looked at the area and thinking how easy it would be for someone to walk by.

The lifeguard ran a hand through his golden locks, and Liv wondered if he was posing for a photo shoot somewhere nearby. “I can’t keep an eye on everything that’s going on in that bloody place,” he said, starting to sound pissed off.

“Do you mind if we go and have a look?” Liv asked.

“Can’t see the harm,” he said with a shrug and a yawn before heading back to his perch to observe the other swimmers. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I won’t be doing that in a hurry,” Liv said to Archie in a low voice. “We should find the manager, see if we need to go about getting a warrant.”

“Are you honestly trying to scare off all my customers?” the manager responded, a woman in her forties trying to look half her age, her face pumped full of Botox and so much fake tan, she almost looked orange.

“No, I’m trying to find out why a young woman who visited these premises died,” Liv responded, thinking that just once, it would be nice to have an owner who was receptive to a police search and wasn’t going to cause them a headache along the way.

“She drowned in the pool,” the manager retorted, her cheeks flushing with faint colour, only barely visible beneath the tan. “Nothing to indicate a murder.”

“With all due respect, we’ve seen some evidence that indicates otherwise,” Archie challenged. “And we believe it was someone visiting these premises. Now, we can either come back later with a warrant, where it’s just going to look suspicious on your end, or you can grant us the access now and your cooperation will be acknowledged.”

The manager was clearly one of those people that preferred to go down the path of least resistance. “Okay, fine,” she muttered. “But be quick about it, and try not to scare off all the swimmers, for God’s sake.”

“I’m going to head in,” Liv said as they stopped outside the ladies’ changing room.

Archie stopped outside. “Are you sure I should be going in there?”

“You’re a copper, not a pervert,” she replied, smiling slightly at his attempt at chivalry.

They both walked inside where there were women in various stages of undress. Archie found himself looking away as Liv held up her ID badge. “DI Austin. We need to examine the area. If anyone is able to give us some space, it’d be greatly appreciated.”

The women all moved around as the police stepped in for the search.

They looked around the place, not entirely sure what they were supposed to be looking for.

“If she just came here for a one-off…” Archie began before noticing his partner looking up at the ceiling.

“Can you see it?” she said, pointing upwards.

Archie had to squint a little, but then his eyes widened.

Attached to the ceiling was a small camera that was taped in place.

Liv climbed onto the bench, putting on a pair of gloves and reaching up for it.

Slowly, she dismantled it from the duct tape, holding it in place and removing it from the top of the locker.

“So, what do you make of this?” Liv asked, looking up at the hiding spot. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s part of some haphazard security protocol.”

“You think we should speak to the manager about it?” Archie suggested.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she fired back to his surprise. “If she knows we’ve found it, she could say anything. Besides, I want Clara to go through the footage first, and I want it sent over for fingerprints.”

12

Back at the office, Liv felt tense. She was waiting for news of another victim to drop.

“Try and relax, Liv,” Archie pleaded. “Clara’s going over the footage now, and Andrew is working that silver tongue on Dr Pike. We should get even further by the end of the day.”

But before Liv could take those words to heart, Tim approached her. “Um, Liv, I’ve got something you want to see.”

Liv beckoned for Archie to follow her, and they crowded around DS Harris’ computer. “I thought about what you said, about trying to find out whether there were any previous cases that we needed to look out for. And…”

He clicked on a file and opened it up.

“About fifteen years ago in Cornwall, there was a series of accidents, both involving a drowning and a car…”

Liv’s gut tightened up.

“...and both of these occurred around the same time, the beginning of April.”

“So, the killer is leaning into all that April Fools rubbish.”

“It looks like it, and there was an officer who was looking into the deaths, Detective Inspector Vic Maitland.”

“I know the name,” Archie chimed in. “Wasn’t he supposed to be one of those coppers who still acted like it was the 1970s?”

“You could say that,” Tim said with a shrug. “I heard all about him, how he liked to throw his weight around. A bit of a glory whore, you might say. You could say that he loved the attention more than he loved the job. And he wasn’t exactly the kind to share the spotlight, which meant that when the time came to drag him over the coals, everyone was happy to chip in about what a shithead he was.”

“So, we’re basing historical information on the suspicions of a bent copper?” Liv asked, wondering if they were that desperate. “I suppose we could always get in touch and ask him for more information.”

Tim’s face darkened. “That’s not possible. He’s been missing for years.”

“What?” Liv asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes. Apparently, the day after the second death took place, someone saw him taking a phone call, he walked out the office, and he didn’t come into work the next morning, or the next… or the next fifteen years.”

Liv sat down in one of the chairs as she tried to digest the information. “Do you think he could still be alive?”

“He was quite a loud personality,” Tim iterated. “You’d have to do a lot to shut him up. A few people did think he’d faked his own death. He was facing charges for brutality and corruption, so it would have made sense that he’d get himself out of town before anyone noticed. But nobody is that good at staying hidden, so there have been a few people speculating, but because the man was a colossal jackass, any effort to find him has been half-hearted.”

“And what about the last case he was working on?” Liv asked.

Tim paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase the next part. “He was investigating a drowning and a motor accident.”

“In that order?” Archie asked with a gulp.

“Yeah. Everyone else had dismissed them as accidents, but Maitland had been adamant that there was something in it, a possible killing. Of course, some of his colleagues just assumed that he was trying to find any excuse to get his career up and running again. He was looking over the reports and trying to find something worthwhile… and then a few hours later, nobody saw him again.”

The information made Liv shudder as she thought about how if somebody had got to DI Maitland to silence him, they’d done so with relative ease. It made her feel a lot more vulnerable, and suddenly, all those talks she’d had with Diana about being protected rang a lot more hollow.

“Well, this confirms a few things for us,” Archie said, clearly not fixating on the vulnerability. “That we are dealing with a serial killer—and I’ll be damned if I’m going to start calling them the April Fools Killer—and that we’re not going to find someone with immediate connections to the victims.”

“And how is the last part supposed to help us narrow any suspects down?” Tim asked from his seat.

“Well, if the first murder occurred in 2010, then assuming that he didn’t start off as a minor, then we’re looking for someone as young as their thirties or forties. It does start to narrow down possible suspects. So, we can at least rule out any college students. And given that this killer seemed to operating to a certain pattern, it should make him a bit more predictable. You never know, there may be something in the report that will allow us to warn his next victim.”

13

Liv shuddered as she continued reading.

Even though Vic Maitland hadn’t had the time to go into extensive detail, the cases that he’d covered were almost identical to the ones she was dealing with in the present.

But contrary to what Archie had hoped, there hadn’t been much information on future victims, as Maitland had gone missing after writing up his notes on the second victim. Fifteen years, God knows how many times that station would have changed hands. But she had to give it a shot.

She dialled the number for Cornwall CID and waited patiently. “Hello, this is Detective Inspector Olivia Austin of Newquay CID. This might seem like a bit of an odd question, but is there anybody there who was working in CID at the time Vic Maitland was active?”

There was a pause, and the voice on the other end agreed to go looking. A few minutes later, a male voice came through on the other end. “This is Detective Chief Inspector Gareth Becker. I worked alongside Vic back when I was his DS. Have to say, I’m surprised to hear his name. I thought he was forgotten by this point.”

“Well, he’s left an interesting legacy,” Liv replied, not wanting to get into small talk. “The reason I’m calling is because of the case he was working on at the time he went missing.”

“The April Fool’s case?” DCI Becker chuckled a little. “I only said that as a throwaway comment. If I’d known that he was going to run with that, I would have kept my mouth shut.”

“Why did he believe that there was a serial killer at work?” Liv asked.

“Coincidence, I guess,” the man replied. “Two deaths in close proximity of each other. We thought it was just a very bad coincidence.”

“What do you think happened to him?” Liv asked.

There was silence on the other end, and Liv wondered if she’d struck a nerve and forced DCI Becker to recall feelings he’d rather forget.

“When he disappeared, most people figured he’d gone on the run to avoid being arrested. The case against him was building up, and even the favours he called in weren’t enough to get him out of that hole. But I never thought he’d take off like that. I always knew it had something to do with the case. He saw that as his golden ticket back to stardom and was actually deluded enough to think that that would make everything else go away. He was willing to stick it out. We tried to find him, running a trace on his phone and cards. Absolutely nothing. I would be very surprised if he was still alive.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Liv offered sympathetically.

“I’m not sad for him personally. The man was a complete knobhead,” DCI Becker said bluntly. “Him being dead doesn’t change any of that. But I would have liked to know what killed him.”

“Were there any more deaths after that?” Liv asked, wanting some preparation for the next death to land on her doorstep.

“There were a few more,” he explained, before starting to lose patience. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to tell me what this is all about, DI Austin.”

“We’ve so far had two bodies turning up, both dying in manners exactly like the case you and DI Maitland investigated years ago, and both around the first of April,” she admitted heavily.

“Jesus,” Becker exclaimed, and she could imagine him on the other end needing a moment to compose himself. “Do you think it could be the same person?”

“I think it’s a pretty safe bet,” she responded. “And I want to make sure that this time we catch him.”

“Okay, I’m going to go over everything I can find here in regards to the deaths and see about getting the files sent over to you. Nobody else thought serial murderers were taking place, so maybe you’ll be able to pick up on something we didn’t.”

“Thank you,” she said before hanging up the phone. She sighed heavily, trying to make sense of the conversation.

She couldn’t understand why the killer had chosen April Fool’s as the cornerstone of his gimmick. Maybe Dr Pike could give them some answers.

What was worrying was that this killer had been active for at least fifteen years and been responsible for two sprees. And these were only the known cases. She had no idea how many people had died in freak accidents and gone without justice.

At least they had a direction to go in.

Archie came into the room. “How did it go with Cornwall?”

“Spoke with Maitland’s old partner, confirming that he went missing in suspicious circumstances. He’s going to send over some more information,” the inspector confirmed.

“Good to know,” Archie nodded. “Wanted to say that Clara’s been tinkering with the camera we found in the ladies’ changing room, and you might want to take a look at it.”

14

“Bit disappointing, to be honest,” Clara said from her workstation, keeping her back to the pair. “I hoped that it would be for something more than just a Peeping Tom.”

She sped through a lot of the footage, which depicted women of various ages coming in and out of the changing rooms in different stages of undress.

“How original,” Liv said blandly. “Is there anything on there of Faye McDowell?”

“I already checked,” Clara noted, going through the footage and bringing up a video of Faye changing out of her clothes and into her swimming gear. “As you can see here, she didn’t interact with anyone else.”

“Is there any indication as to where the footage is going?” Liv asked, having had little time to examine the camera.

“Well, I’d say that anything that’s played is being rerouted to an app,” Clara surmised. “So, whoever set the camera up is probably playing it all back in his private moments.”

“Can you go back and see who set it up?” the inspector asked. She had hoped that there’d be something that’d lead them to the killer, and instead, they were dealing with a run-of-the-mill pervert. I’ve a good mind to throw the book at him for wasting my fucking time.

Clara rewound the footage as far back as possible, but the earliest thing on film was an image of an empty changing room, the owner of the camera having long since disappeared.

“Bugger,” Liv muttered. “Well, if we get this sent off for fingerprints, maybe we can find something.”

“Well, at least we know it’s somebody in the staff. Should we start looking at the male colleagues at the leisure centre?” Archie asked.

Liv raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure there would be more than a few female colleagues who might try to catch an eyeful.”

“Well, once the fingerprints come through, we can look at tracking them down,” Archie replied. “You realise that by now, someone will have realised that the camera is missing and could be trying to get their story straight.”

Suddenly, Liv’s phone went off, and she could see it was Sam. “DI Austin.”

“Just thought you should know that we’ve had a look at the bottle and found a small puncture hole in the cap,” the lead forensic investigator explained.

“What?” Liv exclaimed with surprise.

“Yeah, it’s very small, and you have to be really looking for it to find it, but it’s there,” Sam continued. “It looks like someone injected something through the cap and into the water. What it was, I can’t say, but it was definitely tampered with, and I’m pretty sure that’s what caused her paralysis.”

“Okay, thank you,” Liv responded, turning off the phone and holding it in her hand. “We’ve just had confirmation that Faye was either drugged or poisoned.”

“Well, that’s something, but we still don’t have anything on the other victims.”

“Cornwall will send that over when they’ve got the chance.”

She sighed, feeling that they’d pursued all the loose ends they could for now and the only thing left was to wait on other people.

“Arch, do you think you can hold the fort for me for a little bit?”

“Yeah, no problem. Why, where are you headed?” he responded, looking between his superior and the footage.

“There’s something I need to check on,” she stated, moving out the door.

She hoped that the killer wasn’t watching her every move. She needed to solve this crisis.

The killer watched DI Austin from a distance.

Whenever he undertook one of these sprees, he always made a point of getting to know the detectives involved with the case.

DI Maitland had been something of a disappointment. He’d been very sure of himself. He had some initiative, but it was low cunning mostly. He was more driven by a shortcut to stardom rather than being interested in solving a puzzle.

But you make do with what you’ve got.

It would be interesting to see whether DI Austin was cut from the same cloth and how many bodies he could pile up before he had to go back into hibernation again.

He considered pulling the same stunt on Austin that he had on Maitland, but something told him that the Newquay copper would not be so easily swayed. He’d have to be smart about it. Find a pressure point.

For now, he thought about his next target. There was no real pattern to the people he killed, just a string of happy coincidences and convenient distractions. It didn’t have to be them in particular. It could have been them or anyone else who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But he’d already found a good target that would, in most cases, make for a horrific ‘accident’.

15

Fifteen years earlier

When Detective Inspector Vic Maitland walked out of the CID office and brushed past all his colleagues, he had no idea he’d be doing it for the last time.

He walked out of the building, hands in his pockets. He went over to his car and retrieved the illegal firearm he’d obtained in a raid on a drug den. It always came in handy when he needed to resort to intimidation tactics.

If this was going to be a glorious arrest, he didn’t want to be seen with it, but he didn’t know much about the person he was about to meet, and he didn’t want to risk being caught off guard. If need be, he could always shoot the man and claim self-defence. Probably wouldn’t hurt to get a confession out of the man.

He followed the directions to the address he’d been given, going to the cliffs of Cornwall, the scenery providing a nice backdrop to his moment of triumph.

He could see someone standing at the edge of the cliff, staring out into the sea, and Vic instantly knew that this was the man he was looking for.

He slowly stepped towards him, his hand burrowing into his pocket, clasping around the gun. There was a gentle wind that was hazardous for anyone walking around there, but Vic didn’t focus on the wind. He just focused on his target ahead.

When he was finally five feet away, the man turned around, and Vic felt his breath catch in his throat. His mind was racing, trying to place the killer before him. There was nothing special about this man. He looked just like everyone else. Then again, that was the case for most killers.

“You haven’t seen me before,” the figure responded. “I’m very good at going under the radar.”

Vic looked him over. There was nothing to indicate that he was armed. So, why did he feel so alarmed?

“Why did you do it?” Vic asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“If you’re holding out for some big grandiose reasoning that goes back to my childhood, you’ll be disappointed,” he explained noncommittally. “Mainly, I’m just bored.”

The admission repulsed Vic to no end, and the casualness with which he spoke made the inspector wonder how many people this man had killed in the name of boredom.

“I couldn’t tell you; I’ve lost count,” he said with a shrug. “But sometimes, there’s something gratifying about seeing people flailing around. The best murders are the ones that are carried out in plain sight, where no one else is any the wiser.”

Vic found himself thinking of the young man who’d been found dead in the swimming baths and found himself wondering how many times this man had looked into someone’s eyes and watched them die. The idea that the victim must have been drowning with thousands of people around him and no one had thought to come to his rescue was horrifying.

“You’re fucking insane,” he muttered, as if seeing the man for the first time.

“Well, you have to be to do this kind of work,” the figure explained. 

Vic was so disgusted by the man that he was tempted to whip out his gun and just shoot him then and there.

“So, why did you decide to meet with me. Why turn yourself in?” Vic demanded, finally able to vocalise the question running through his mind.

“Because I wanted to see how far you would go to bring me in,” he continued. “You have no backup, and we’re in an isolated area. You possess a lot of admirable traits, DI Maitland…”

There was a puff of air and Maitland felt something small slam into his stomach. He doubled over as the killer started to walk towards him.

“But self-preservation really should have been higher up the list.”

16

Olivia Austin made her way to the flat she knew to be occupied by Katie Gibson. Ironically, since the former copper had been exposed as an undercover journalist, she’d become an invaluable source of information to the team and had been the driving force in linking Robert Lister to his sex-related offences.

She knocked on the door, waiting patiently for it to open. She wondered if she was at the point where she and the now-aspiring private investigator could be friends.

The door opened, and Katie was stood there in a baggy t-shirt. “You’re probably the only person who can be bothered to contact me outside billable hours.”

Liv fought off the urge to look past Katie’s shoulder. “If you want Georgia, she’s gone back to see her little one for a few days. To be honest, with all the questions she’s had thrown her way, she was terrified she was going to be permanently quarantined, like she was going to be treated as a suspect.”

“I can promise you, that’s not going to happen. Everyone in the police department is firmly on her side,” the inspector insisted, remembering the fear that Diana had felt during her leave of absence. “You mind if I come in so we can talk more, or do you do all your heavy talks on the doorstep?”

Katie held the door open, and Liv stepped into the flat which looked like it was barely finished being unpacked. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. It’s amazing what harbouring a witness will do to your schedule.”

“How is she doing otherwise?”

“She’s worried that she isn’t going to be believed in the long run,” Katie explained. “Especially because he was a very convincing liar. You can imagine what it must have been like for her. Imagine you’re in water, and then suddenly, you start going under, and you’re like, ‘why can’t everyone see that I’m drowning?’ That’s what fuckers like Lister do. They isolate you and then whenever you try and get a little bit of freedom for yourself, they twist it so you look like the crazy one.” Katie collapsed into one of the sofas. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you.” Liv watched as the other woman seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. “How are you feeling about all this?” She considered that even though protecting Georgia had been at the forefront of their thoughts, she hadn’t spared much thought for Katie.

“I’m fucking knackered,” she responded. “Every single time I feel I’ve got my head around this case, another little gem crops up. I don’t even dare feel peaceful about anything because I’m just waiting for the next bombshell. But I know that however bad it is for me, it’s going to be even worse for Georgia.” Katie paused as she considered what she wanted to say next. “I feel I might have taken on too much with this case. And I’d be lying if I said a lot of what I’ve been doing wasn’t motivated by a constant attack of ‘do the right thing’.”

Liv sat down, waiting to show she was hanging onto the woman’s every word.

“I knew that when I started up this PI gig, I’d be coming across a lot of people I’d pissed off, and I felt like I needed to earn their trust. I did think that if I could get Georgia through this, then maybe it would be a good way of knowing I was on the right track.”

Liv nodded slowly at this, appreciating that even though she’d had no end of people who hated her guts, Katie was still determined to be better. “Well, for what it’s worth, if you hadn’t got involved, then chances are we’d still be running around in circles trying to find out if there was even a baby to begin with.”

Katie smiled at this but quickly waved it away. “Right now, we just need to focus on getting Georgia through this, which might be easier said than done. She keeps thinking about it getting to court, where they’re going to tear her down. I’ve tried to reassure her that won’t happen. I’ve got to say, when she walked out the door, I was worried we’d never see her again, and I’m ashamed to say, I did have to twist her arm a little. I told her that her testimony would make sure that Robert Lister couldn’t do the same thing to any other women.” She sighed. “Not my best moment, but if she drops out, then the whole case falls apart.”

Liv nodded. “Normally, I wouldn’t be a fan of emotional blackmail, but given what’s at stake here…” She thought about Diana and her reluctance to come back to work. “I think everyone at the station wants to see it sorted. At least no one’s trying to sweep it under the carpet.”

Suddenly, the window shattered, and Katie was knocked to the floor.

17

Dean wouldn't normally take pleasure in seeing a fellow copper beaten senseless, but he was happy to make an exception in this case.

Robert Lister stood opposite him, his face covered in bruises and a cut above his left eye, while a black eye had formed on his other eye.

Clearly, the inmates in the prison hadn’t taken too kindly to having a copper in their midst, and Dean shuddered as he wondered what kind of appalling treatment the man had undergone.

“You don’t seem too bothered,” Lister exclaimed as Dean leaned back in his seat like a spectator. “I thought we were supposed to look out for our own.”

“You stopped being one after what you did to that poor woman,” Dean snarled, wishing there wasn’t a glass panel separating them because he would have given anything to reach over the desk and strangle the disgraced PC himself.

“I can't believe that you guys are falling for this,” Lister scoffed. “You especially. I thought better of you.”

“Well, I'm happy to disappoint you,” Dean snapped back.

“This is what she does; she creates narratives,” Robert insisted. “The whole time she was hiding away was about getting sympathy and attention.”

“She was scared that we weren't going to take her seriously,” Dean said plainly, suddenly wishing he hadn't taken on this case. Then again, he couldn't think of any officer who could restrain themself before this man.

“Yeah, she was worried that people would see her for the lying bitch that she is,” Lister insisted. “This is all such a joke. It's all going to come out. Everyone is going to see that I'm the real victim here.”

Dean fought not to roar with laughter. “You honestly believe that?”

“I do,” the former officer responded with utmost conviction.

“So, when the paternity test comes back positive, how are you going to bullshit your way out of that one?”

Lister leaned back in the chair, trying to muster up a decent response.

“Look, I will admit, we did have a thing going for a while. She helped me out with a case, and we kept in touch. At which point… we began seeing each other.” He spoke the words slowly, as though testing them out and trying to work out which ones would likely land with DI Lawrence. “It was unethical, yes, but it wasn't illegal.”

Dean looked thoroughly unimpressed. “So, you're telling me that this is all down to some backstabbing romance?” Not even waiting for a response, he continued, “And how do you explain the house you kept her in?”

Robert failed to say anything.

Dean leaned back in his chair. “What happened to you, Robert? I thought you were one of the good guys.” He hadn’t been close to the man but had known him to be a reliable officer to have in a crisis.

Robert shrugged like a child who’d been caught stealing. “What’s the point of going for this position if you’re not going to enjoy any of the perks that come with it?”

Dean slammed his fist down on the table, startling both the prisoner and the guard standing nearby. “Sexual manipulation and false imprisonment are not fucking perks. Have you not got any remorse for all the distress you caused that woman? Have you no conscience?”

It was clear that Lister was more concerned about the consequences he was facing. Dean figured that may be a way in.

“I don't think you realise what you're letting yourself in for here,” Dean pointed out. “Within the prison walls, there isn't anything lower than a bent copper. Hell, that's lower than a nonce. And trust me, that's pretty fucking low. You're going to be begging to go into solitary confinement permanently.”

“Is there a point to any of this?” Lister asked, trying to show that he wasn't bothered about the future he had outlined for himself—with questionable success.

“We know that your money wasn't paying for the house you kept Georgia in,” Dean said. “We want to know if there are other people involved in this venture.”

“You're fishing,” the former constable exclaimed.

“You can play the big man all you want,” Dean insisted. “But we both know you're pissing yourself. You're looking at a good few years inside. May not be a life sentence, but it's still enough time for your fellow inmates to do their damage. Does that seem fair to you?”

He hated resorting to reverse psychology, especially since Lister seemed too smart to fall for it.

“What makes you think I'll say anything?” Lister asked defiantly, arms folded.

“Because any information you volunteer is the only bargaining chip you have,” Dean insisted. “Because otherwise I can't help you. And from what I've seen, the other inmates have already started on you.”

“I don’t need bribing,” he replied.

At first, Dean thought this was just a case of the crooked copper thinking he could brazen it out inside. But as he looked the man over, he could tell there was more to it than that. Something was scaring him. Something so bad that he was willing to endure whatever hell the other prisoners had lined up for him.

18

Liv rushed over to Katie as glass shards exploded and sprinkled on the carpet.

Katie was crouched down in the foetal position, her right hand held tight over the back of her head. She brought the shaking hand away and examined the blood on her fingertips.

Liv looked around the room for any sign of a weapon, her eyes resting on a red brick lying on the ground. She gazed at the hole in the window and rushed up to it. Her eyes darted up and down the street for any sign of movement. There was no one about.

“You all right?” Liv asked hurriedly, and at the sight of what looked like a reassuring nod from Katie, she rushed out of the flat, thundering down the stairs and out into the street.

She listened out, hearing the slightest hint of footsteps. Coming to the end of the street, she saw the faintest outline of a person disappear.

She took off after it, convinced that this was the brick thrower.

She sprinted ahead, catching him disappearing around another street corner, her mind racing as she tried to work out who could have been targeting them. Had they been there for her? For Katie? Maybe even for Georgia.

Liv kept up the chase even as she felt her chest about to implode.

She turned another corner… only to find that the thrower had vanished.

She realised with rising anger that she wasn’t going to reach the perpetrator. She was fighting a losing battle. She skidded to a halt, fighting off the urge to collapse into a pile on the pavement.

Remembering that Katie was still at the flat, she started making her way back.

Realising that she’d left the PI alone, she picked up the pace, wondering if the brick had been thrown as a diversion.

She made it back to the flat and saw that Katie was no longer on the floor, having eased herself into a chair, still with her hand over her head. “How are you feeling?” Liv asked.

“Like some shit head tried to cave my fucking head in,” Katie muttered sarcastically.

Liv moved around to look at the wound. Much of Katie’s blonde hair was matted with blood. “We should get you to the hospital,” Liv insisted. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“I’m fine,” Katie retorted, swatting the hand away.

“You’re lucky we’re not picking your brains off the floor,” the inspector noted, turning her attention to the brick. She could see there was a piece of paper secured around it with an elastic band.

Pulling on a spare pair of forensic gloves, Liv knelt down and untangled the note from the brick and read it. NEXT TIME IT’LL BE IN YOUR FACE, BITCH.

19

“I’m not sure how I feel about the forensics being in my flat,” Katie remarked as she was getting her head examined.

“Why? You got any more skeletons in your closet I need to be worried about?” Liv asked, trying to keep the humour light.

“I’m more worried about people planting something on me,” she replied as the nurse gently prodded. “Only just started renting that apartment. Landlord’s going to be pissed off I’ve already fucked his windows.”

“I’d be more worried about the assault,” Liv exclaimed, the shock only just starting to set in.

“You recognise the handwriting?” Katie asked.

“No one I know,” Liv responded, repeatedly going over the note in her head. NEXT TIME IT’LL BE IN YOUR FACE, BITCH. “At least he was good enough to let us know which gender he was targeting.”

Katie shuffled where she sat, inadvertently making the nurse’s job a lot harder. “But was it one of us or both of us?” She looked at Liv almost with an accusing eye. “You weren’t followed on your way to me, were you?”

“I think I’d know,” Liv remarked, though secretly, she had to admit she hadn’t been paying too much attention on her trip to visit Katie. She’d just assumed that she or the journalist were too below notice for anyone to really care.

“Well, if they weren’t trailing you, then that would mean that someone has found out where I live,” Katie muttered, starting to feel a sense of panic. “All this because I tried to do the right thing.”

“Do you think it could be anybody from one of your previous cases?” Liv asked, knowing that Katie Gibson would have made plenty of enemies, both as a police officer and as a journalist.

“I don’t know. I think if this was to do with my old work, it wouldn’t be just one person, it’d be an entire lynch mob,” Katie said with an air of self-deprecation. “And I don’t think I’ve been a PI long enough to piss anyone off.”

“We should contact Georgia,” Liv said suddenly, thinking about how vulnerable the young mother was. She turned away from Katie and took out her phone, dialling Georgia’s number. “Georgia?” There was silence on the other end.

“Olivia, I can’t see their reach stretching that far,” Katie remarked as the nurse was almost finished tending to her wound.

“Georgia!” Liv snapped, terrified that something had happened to the woman. I’ll never forgive myself if they got to her. I was the one who wanted to drag her into the light. If they’ve managed to get to her, I’ll never forgive myself.

“What’s happening?” The young woman’s voice sounded through, more confused than afraid or hurt.

They haven’t got to her, Liv thought with relief. “Nothing. It’s all fine here. Just wanted to make sure you got back home all right.”

“Yeah, just spending some time with my little girl,” she said, and Liv could hear the sound of a child squawking in the background at a cartoon. “Why, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Liv lied, deciding that she didn’t need to be alarmed. “You give that girl a big hug from us, okay?”

“I don’t want her growing up knowing her dad,” Georgia insisted. “I understand I need to play my part in all this, but I’m worried that she’ll end up remembering it somehow.”

Liv thought of her close friend and colleague Detective Sergeant Nikki Harding. While the woman was abrasive and blunt, she had proven to be both a good detective and especially a good mother. And she’d had to endure a duplicitous partner. That had taken its toll on Nikki to the point where she’d felt like she had to move away from Newquay and get a transfer to Derby where she’d been building a new life for herself.

“I wanted to say that I’m going to give you a number for somebody who was once in a very similar position to you, and I think she might be able to give you some advice,” Liv explained, giving Nikki’s number. She made a mental reminder to let Nikki that she’d given out her number rather than have her be surprised by Georgia’s call.

Once the conversation with Georgia was over in a bit of a hurry, Liv turned her attention back to Katie.

“Apparently, I’m going to be all right, but the nurse wants to keep me in overnight just to be sure,” Katie explained as she lay back on the bed. “To be honest, I’m probably safer here than I am in my own place.”

Liv couldn’t bring herself to disagree on that one.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps, and Dean came sprinting towards her. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

She knew that his panic was only temporary, and once the initial fear had died down, Dean would remember that Liv was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

“Not me you need to be worried about,” she said, pointing to Katie, and somehow, Dean struggled to make the same gesture of concern for the former journalist.

“Well, I’ve come through it with my head intact,” Katie remarked, understanding the situation. “I suppose we should be grateful that Georgia wasn’t there when it happened.”

“We can check the note and the brick for fingerprints,” Dean suggested, leaving Liv once again feeling exasperated that whatever progress they were making was dependent on due process.

“Do we need to be worried about what we’re going to be doing tonight?” Liv asked. “I’m not asking for ourselves; I’m asking for your mum.”

“I’ll see about booking her into a Travelodge tonight,” Dean suggested. “Hopefully, she’ll understand.”

But Liv knew that the night prompted a new problem, one that wasn’t going to be easily solved with shifting sleeping arrangements.

Thinking back to the reassurances she’d piled on Diana, Liv wondered whether the young PC’s fears were now validated.

20

“You know, I sat down with the wife last night with a decent bottle of wine and told her that we could fully relax for the evening and that we didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone for at least a few hours,” Collins remarked wistfully the next morning. “I can’t help feeling like I’ve jinxed everyone.”

Liv and Dean were standing in his office, having spent the previous night holding each other for comfort.

“So, how is everyone feeling today?” he asked, knowing that the couple would be more shaken than they were willing to admit.

“We’ll live,” Liv retorted, just wanting to get on with the job.

“You’re so damn lucky,” Dean stated. “If that brick had been a few inches closer…”

“I’d rather focus less on the fact that I’m not in a hospital bed and more on the fact that Katie is not safe.” She thought it would be interesting to see how Collins responded. Though he and the journalist had since settled their differences, she wondered if he’d be so quick to get her to safety like he would anyone else, given their turbulent history together.

“Obviously, her safety is paramount,” he declared. “The threat was clearly meant to scare her. I will say this, the fact that somebody was attacking her means that we’re getting to them.” Noting the bewildered look from his colleagues, he quickly tried again. “I just mean that if she’s not getting attacked, she’s not doing her job right.” From the look on his face, he clearly realized that was hardly a better way of phrasing it. Just give it up, sir.

“It’s a fair point,” Dean noted. “Assuming this is linked to the Lister case, they are scared of what’s going to come out as a result of it.”

“Did your chat with Lister reveal anything worthwhile, DI Lawrence?” Collins asked.

“He’s really got into the role of playing the smug shit,” Dean explained. “Though I don’t know how long he can keep it up once the other prisoners start loosening his teeth. But I think it’s safe to say that he wasn’t working alone. He’s definitely protecting someone, and he is so petrified by them that he’s willing to endure a lifetime of hell. I wonder if we should consider immunity for him in exchange for what he knows…”

“Absolutely not,” Collins interrupted firmly, prompting the other two to look at him. “What that man did to that young woman was unforgivable, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting him get away with it. Georgia Madsen has placed a lot of faith in us, and when this is all done, I don’t want to tell her that the man who traumatised her wasn’t locked up because we felt supporting her wasn’t important enough.”

Liv sighed. Collins’ compassionate nature was really shining through, even though it provided its own set of problems.

“Well, whatever we decide, Robert Lister is going to be our best shot at finding out who may also be involved in all this,” Dean explained, the gears in his head slowly turning. “What if those beatings were meant as a warning? What if they were saying ‘keep your mouth shut or else?’”

“I think you may be reading quite a bit into it, DI Lawrence,” Collins noted carefully.

“Sir, if you were in Lister’s position, a copper behind bars, are you honestly telling me that if somebody offered you a lifeline, you wouldn’t take it?”

Collins nodded slowly as he considered the logic. “It does make sense. He’s willing to put himself through hell for no apparent reason. But what are they offering him in return for his silence?”

“Just the fact that he gets to live,” Olivia added. “You don’t grass; we won’t come after you. But I think we need to consider who has the influence to have that kind of control over the prisoners. I can’t see it being another criminal.”

“Which brings us to another disturbing implication,” Collins said with a heavy sigh. “That there could be other coppers involved. And we’re not just talking PCs, but someone in a high office who has the means to intimidate several people into playing along.”

There was silence in the office while Liv and Dean wondered whether this breakthrough was a good thing, or whether they were setting themselves up for a world of trouble.

“In which case, we’ve got to think very hard about how we proceed from here,” Collins said. “We can’t go around making accusations without any kind of evidence. Otherwise, that’s it for our careers. I will be packed off with a pension, and you two will probably be directing traffic for the rest of your careers.”

“So, how do you want us to go about it?” Liv asked, feeling they needed to have something to show for it.

“Our first priority is protecting Georgia Madsen and Katie Gibson,” he started. “I’m going to suggest putting them in a safe house…”

“With respect, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Liv interrupted. “Georgia spent a long time in a so-called safe house. I get where your head’s at, but we might end up retraumatising her.”

Collins grunted in frustration as he realized Liv was right. “We’ll think of something. At the moment, she’s out of Newquay, so she’s not in immediate danger. But by the time she gets back here, I want us to have something in place to support her, all right?”

They both nodded in agreement as Tim burst into the room.

“Can you not see we’re in the middle of a meeting, DS Harris?” Collins asked, a little perturbed.

“Sorry, sir, but I think you going to want to see this,” he insisted. “Vic Maitland’s bank card has been used at an ATM.”

21

“You’re kidding,” she said as she looked over his computer. “Shouldn’t those cards have expired by now? It has been fifteen years since he was last seen.”

“Maybe he got them renewed,” Tim suggested, clearly not considering the more worrying implications.

“I’m pretty sure that this isn’t Maitland,” Liv replied. “Even though nobody has ever recovered a body, his old colleague seemed pretty convinced that he was dead.”

“Well, according to these statements, he’s going around the Newquay town centre buying…” He checked the screen. “...aftershave.”

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe it isn’t Maitland. Maybe it’s our killer.” Liv rushed over to her seat and grabbed her jacket. “How long ago did that statement go in?”

“About twenty-three minutes ago,” Tim confirmed.

“Archie, I want you in the centre with me, and Tim, keep me updated on any more movements on those card movements,” she called out as she left the office.

She walked into the store and found herself standing before a young woman who looked like she was doing her part-time job around school or college. “Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asked in a chirpy tone, completely oblivious to the possibility that only an hour ago, she could have served a deranged serial killer.

“DI Austin,” Liv began, holding up her ID card. “We wanted to ask you some questions about a man you served roughly…” She turned back to Archie who held up the notes he’d hastily scribbled. “An hour ago. We believe he was purchasing some aftershave.”

Archie was trying to listen intently while waiting for any updates on Tim’s end.

“Oh, um…” the young woman began, trying to wrack her brain. “Oh, yeah, I think I remember him.”

“Do you think you can describe him for us?” Liv asked, at which point, Archie primed his pocketbook and pen.

“Yeah, I’d say that he was in his mid-forties, he had a shaved head, and he was wearing a black V-neck t-shirt. He had dark green combat trousers…” she blabbed on, while Liv had Archie take it all down in the hope that something specific that they could chase down.

“How did he sound? Did he use an accent?” the inspector demanded, her patience wearing thin.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying too much attention,” the cashier retorted. “I don’t even see how this is relevant.”

Liv tried to remember that she wasn’t at fault for the lack of relevant information.

“Just had a message from Tim. Apparently, he’s just been seen in a men’s sportswear store… about fifteen minutes from here.”

Without another word, Liv pushed past the queue and out of the shop. Within seven minutes, they were standing in the men’s store where they received a similar description.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know how else I can help you,” the checkout girl responded.

Liv walked away to go over the notes with Archie. “So, at least we’ve got some kind of description.”

“Why is he going on a spending spree?” Archie asked, tapping his pen against the paper. “He could just use any card. Instead, he uses a card with a name belonging to a dead man.”

“He’s fucking with us,” Liv stated. “There’s no other explanation for it. He’s getting us to follow him all over the town centre just to see if we’ll dance to whatever tune he plays.” She walked out into the main centre and was tempted to shout out for the man to show himself, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Archie’s phone buzzed as he received yet another text from Tim. “Now he’s in a DVD store. Honestly, this is fucking ridiculous,” he explained in a rare profane rant.

They made their way to the film rental and looked around. “We’re going to have to have Clara go through the security cameras of all the shops he’s been in.”

“So, he is giving us something,” Archie remarked. “He’s so obsessed with fucking us around that he’s basically shooting himself in the foot.”

It wasn’t like Archie to swear so much, but she could tell he was getting worn down by all the back and forth.

They were about to head to the checkout desk to see what’d been purchased when a scream broke out towards the back of the shop.

Terrified that he was taking another victim, Liv rushed forward, prepared to grapple with the man.

But when she got there, she found two teenage girls standing over something lying on the ground. It was black and leathery, and after a few seconds of staring at the shape, Liv could tell she was looking at a police ID card.

She already knew whose face would be printed on the ID. But still, she put on gloves, picked up the card, and saw Vic Maitland’s face staring back at her… and several speckles of fresh blood on the wallet.

They’d waited in the town centre for at least another hour to see if any more purchases were made, but it was clear that the killer was done making his point and had since scarpered.

“Clara’s already going through the footage, so hopefully, she’ll be able to find something,” Archie suggested hopefully.

“I’m tempted to ask her to cut out the part where you and I run around the town centre like headless chickens,” she muttered. “That would make for some great blackmail material.”

“It’s the blood that concerns me,” he said, speaking through a dry throat. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Maitland’s blood.”

“This has got to be further confirmation that he’s dead. Why else would they show us the ID badge? It’s meant as a warning. He’s saying that he had no issue getting up close to a copper and he can just as easily do the same to us.”

Tim approached her, looking a little sheepish at having led them on a wild goose chase. “Just wanted to let you know,” he said slowly, hoping their animosity was not going to be directed at him. “That the fingerprints have come back from the camera you hooked out of the changing rooms. We matched them to Derek—”

“Oh, I really can’t be bothered with that,” she muttered, smacking her hand against her face in a facepalm. “Just go down there and haul him in.” She was frustrated enough with the Robert Lister case and the April Fools case without having to worry about throwing a perverted lifeguard into the mix.

“I’ll head down there with DC Shaw later on,” Tim said hesitantly. “I take it he’s not our guy, then?”

“Believe me, it would make it so much easier if she was.” After all the leads I spent the last few years chasing down, I’m going to be very fucked off if I’ve only nabbed a voyeur.

“Also, Dr Helen Pike is downstairs and waiting to have a chat with you.”

Clearly, Duracell has been able to work his magic. Hopefully, we’re going to start getting some answers.

She walked downstairs to see the esteemed psychiatrist waiting in the reception area, legs crossed, looking around the area and leaving Liv wondering if she was actively looking for new material for her book.

“Helen,” she began, holding out her hand and trying to forget her anger at the woman for breaking Andrew’s heart.

“Good to see you, Olivia,” the psychiatrist responded, returning the handshake. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

22

Helen sat in one of the unused conference rooms, waiting patiently as Liv came in with all the evidence they’d collated up to that point.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” she acknowledged.

“Well, we think the killer has been active for at least a few decades,” Liv remarked, feeling the added pressure of going after a historical serial killer.

Dr Pike started sifting through all the papers, looking at the crime scene photos both from Newquay and the Cornwall spree. “He’s very paradoxical in his approach.”

“How do you mean?” Liv asked.

“Well, so far, the bulk of his scenes have been focused around accidents—the kind of situations where people die by sheer dumb luck. But there seems to have been a lot of thought put into them. He’s been sticking to the same pattern several times now, even when it would be in his best interests to change it up to avoid detection. You can imagine the amount of effort it takes to replicate that kind of spontaneity over and over again. It gets exhausting after a while. But from what I am getting here, this is about the methodology first and then finding people to fit his framework. For example, Faye McDowell was selected for her swimming activities and Sebastian Brent for his work as a mechanic.”

“So, we should be looking at occupations rather than people.”

“More or less.”

Liv nodded at this, though she wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help her find the man. “Is there anything we can do to avoid any more deaths? Any way of warning potential victims?”

Helen looked over the notes. “From what I understand, the third victim died by dangerous driving. The brakes were cut on his car, and he ended up colliding with another car, dying instantly. But those cases are interesting because there is clear evidence of manipulation.”

“What do you think motivates those specific choices?” the inspector queried. “If we’re looking at options for accidental deaths, the list is quite extensive.”

“Well, there are several reasons why those particular deaths come up,” Dr Pike explained. “It could be that they’re among the first deaths that come to mind when one thinks of the word ‘accident’. Or it could be some childhood trauma that’s manifested itself through his actions. That is more often than not the case.”

“So, why does he go to the trouble of hiding the deaths as accidents if he’s only going to take full credit later on?”

“Because he enjoys the challenge,” Dr Pike explained bluntly. “It’s not enough for him to lay out the pieces for you to pick up. He has to see if you’re smart enough to work out what they were to begin with. How do you knock down the dominoes if you don’t know how they’re set up? The challenge is much more stimulating.”

“And why April 1st?” Liv asked, thinking back to the gimmick that tied everything together and what it could mean to the killer.

“It could be the result of a very twisted sense of humour,” Helen surmised, going over a picture of a man having been thrown through a car windshield. “Or possibly, something happened to the killer on that day, something that was unresolved, and this is him lashing out. Given that April Fools is quite a childish occasion, the idea that he might frame a killing spree around it does suggest a case of arrested development.”

Liv nodded in acknowledgement, feeling like she was being given random pieces rather than the full puzzle.

There was a knock at the door, and Archie came in. “Hi, Liv, just letting you know that Clara has brought up some stats, and it makes for interesting reading.”

“Okay,” Liv responded. “Just need to finish up here.”

She saw the excitement on her partner’s face and wondered if this was the breakthrough they’d been waiting for.

Minutes later, Liv was joining Archie in the corridor on the way to Clara. “Tell me you’ve got something good.”

23

The reality of Robert Lister’s circumstances was finally starting to set in for him.

He’d gone to bed the last few nights to the tune of the inmates chanting ‘PIG!’ over and over again. The guards didn’t seem to be in any hurry to stop them.

He’d put on an air of bravado in front of Dean Lawrence, trying to make out that he wasn’t put off by the constant beatings and death threats. Every day, the prospect of life inside dawned on him more and more, and he felt the taste of freedom slipping away from him.

It was all that bitch’s fault. If she’d just kept her trap shut, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He thought that she’d be too scared shitless to actually try anything.

He had a lawyer who’d been working around the clock with him to muster any kind of defence. But every time they tried to get a footing, another piece of evidence popped out of the woodwork—whether it was a former suspect who wanted to report him for police brutality or a female witness who felt he’d come on a bit too strongly.

All he needed to do was have the DNA test results come through and that would be the end of it.

He had been asked to be placed in the segregation unit, which meant he was occupying the same space as all the nonces and perverts. It made Robert shudder to think that most people saw him on the same level as some sex offender.

He had to find a way out of there. When he had first taken on this gig, he'd been assured that as long as he kept his mouth shut, he'd be taken care of.

But after a few weeks inside, he was starting to suspect that he'd be left to rot. And he was increasingly tempted to contact DI Lawrence and say that he'd reconsidered and was open to a deal.

He was not going to waste away in this place.

If they didn’t come through for him in the next few days, he’d be spilling all to the police. He wasn’t sure how he could do it without anyone knowing, but he’d figure out a way.

At the moment, his main concern was steering clear of the prisoners determined to make an example out of the disgraced copper.

24

“Get anything useful out of that?” Archie asked as they neared Clara’s workstation.

“A few things that tell us we’re looking for another psychopath,” Liv remarked. “And that Dr Pike sees April Fools as a childish custom.”

“I swear that woman didn’t get enough hugs as a child,” Archie snarked.

They walked into the workstation where Clara was sitting with a face that was trying to find the right balance between excited and concerned. “If I’m honest, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I looked over all the stats for people that drowned and then narrowed it down to the beginning of April before adding in a separate list of automation-based deaths in April.”

“And how many results did you come back with?” Liv asked, bracing herself for the answer.

“Four in total, with this being the fifth, going back as early as 2005,” the technician explained. “So, technically, every four or five years, he crawls out of the woodwork and kills off another group of people before disappearing again.”

“How many people does he kill per cycle?” Archie asked.

“Roughly five, give or take,” Clara surmised, going over the spreadsheets. “Four if you discount the…” She suddenly turned to look at Liv and Archie before going silent.

“Well?” Liv asked impatiently.

“Well, I’ve been speaking with Tim, and he’s been doing a bit of digging… and apparently, whenever he starts up a new spree… he makes a point of targeting the officers investigating the case.”

Liv’s expression hardened as her face went white. “Oh, great,” she snapped. “So, I’ve been walking around Newquay with a target on my back.”

“You don’t seem too worried, Liv,” Archie remarked.

“Probably because it isn’t a normal day unless someone’s hunting me down,” she snarked back.

“Do you think we need to…” Archie began, but Liv held up a hand to silence him.

“If you use the words ‘protective custody’ and ‘me’ in the same sentence, I swear to God, we are going to fall out,” she insisted. She was so used to having her life threatened that it was practically a running gag.

“We’ve called around and asked some of the other stations like Cornwall, Cumbria, Dorset, and Devon,” Clara explained. “And he moves onto a different location every few years.

“So, he’s looking at adding Newquay to his wall of fame,” Liv remarked.

“And we’ve got two or three victims left until he disappears for good,” Archie continued.

“What if we had something to offer him as bait?” Liv suggested, notably avoiding Archie’s eyes.

“Oh, for God’s sake…” Archie exclaimed. “Do you have any plans that don’t involve martyrdom?”

“He wants to collect another badge, just like he did with Maitland. Maybe we can use that as a way of drawing him out into the open.”

“He’s too unpredictable,” Archie insisted. “And frankly, I’d prefer not to take that risk. And yes, I am thinking about the other victims he might kill, but I am also considering that he may retaliate as a result, and I don’t want this man being any more unpredictable than he already is.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Clara chimed in. “Rather than putting ourselves at risk or going on a wild-goose chase, maybe we should go back and look at the earliest crimes. At the very least, we will know that he was just starting out and maybe he would have slipped up. People wouldn’t have been looking for a serial killer back then.”

“Trawl over evidence all the way back in 2005?” Archie asked sceptically.

Finding her voice, Clara declared, “Here’s where we’re at: we’ve got no suspect, no murder weapon, and a ticking clock. All we have is historical information to trawl over. Now, if either of you has a better suggestion, then please say so now.”

There was silence from the two detectives.

“All right, let’s go back to the first spree.”

Tim made regular visits as the team worked diligently to look over the case, giving them updates and acting as a conduit between all the other officers.

“No arrests were made for the drowning or the crushing in those first few days,” Clara noted as she went through the information. “... but it does say that someone was arrested for the car crash.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Liv exclaimed. “Come on, Clara, don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Apparently, the main suspect in the death of Sara Ballantine was… the woman’s ten-year-old son.”

Liv and Archie looked over at Tim. Of all the truths they’d expected to uncover, that was not one.

Sara Peterson had been a soon-to-be single mother locked in a fierce divorce battle with her husband, who’d been threatening to take her for everything she had, including full custody of their son Rhys. One day, just before Sara was due to have another battle of wits through the divorce lawyers, the lines had been cut on her brakes, and she’d collided with another car, killing her instantly.

A quick examination of the car would reveal the cut brakes and suspicion had quickly fallen on her abusive ex, Don, who’d immediately denied any kind of tampering.

Fingerprints would later reveal the culprit to be ten-year old Rhys, to the shock of everyone involved. What made the case especially tragic was that the boy hadn’t intended for anybody to die. He had intended for his dad to be driving the family vehicle, and he’d wanted to just to stop him from tearing into his mother. Rhys had never imagined that Sara would steal the car out from underneath Don’s nose to avoid using it in the divorce settlement, and he’d been wracked with guilt over causing his own mother’s death.

Looking back, Liv remembered how secretive the news coverage had been owing to Rhys Peterson’s status as a minor. He’d served eighteen months in custody before the courts had looked at rehousing him and giving him the chance to start a new life. From what little material they got focusing on, it was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

They did manage to find a file on Rhys Peterson, however, to Liv’s surprise, it didn’t get them anywhere. On every single page, dense black bars blocked out words, phrases, and even paragraphs.

“We’ve got to speak to Collins regarding an unredacted file,” she insisted.

“You think we’ll be able to take it that far?” Archie asked, knowing about the pains of speaking to a former suspect now living under a protected identity.

“We have to. Something doesn’t add up,” she insisted. “His mum’s death falls inside the same cycle as the other killings, and yet, he wasn’t a suspect in any of them?”

“The boy was ten years old,” Archie exclaimed. “Hardly a budding serial killer back then.”

“Exactly the point,” Liv explained. “And yet the serial killer decided to include that type of death in his line-up. Which makes me wonder whether he could have known the killer in any capacity.”

25

“So, you think this man could have something to do with the killings?” Collins asked, looking over the redacted file on Rhys Petersen.

“I don’t know,” Liv responded. “I think it’s a possibility that needs to be ruled out. Even if he didn’t have anything to do with the other deaths, maybe he knows who did.”

“I was under the impression that you were looking for somebody in their mid-forties,” Collins remarked. “By my memory, he should be about thirty. That’s still a decade too young for my liking.”

“We’ve tried tracing back the entire history of this killer,” Archie added. “And so far, no charges have been brought. And it gets worse than that. Most of these sprees were missed because they were treated as accidents. That means that this killer has been operating for two decades without anyone being any the wiser. And…” He braced himself, knowing that this was the fact that would make Collins sit up and take notice. “...He’s also responsible for the deaths of several missing police officers.”

As predicted, Collins almost bolted upright in his seat. “What?”

“Yes, you’ll find that several police officers went missing around the times of those deaths, all of whom had a hand in investigating them—Vic Maitland being one of them,” Liv stated, her tone worsening as the reality dawned on her that she could be next. “Four officers killed, and all of them have gone without justice. This is our chance to give their families some closure.”

It’s a cheap move to make, but it’s the best one I’ve got.

She watched Collins turning the thoughts over in his head, thinking of the duty of care to fellow police officers, regardless of whether he’d known them personally.

“So, what exactly is it you need?” he asked slowly. “Because if we’re going to risk stepping on anybody’s toes, I need to exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“We want to track down Rhys Petersen,” Liv explained. “And ask him some questions about that incident and who he might have interacted with. If he can give us anything concrete, then we might be able to use it to find the killer.”

“I should say,” Collins began slowly, “whatever Mr Petersen did as a child, that isn’t who he is now. He’s long since paid his debt to society. And I am conscious that this could force him to recall feelings he’d rather forget.”

“It’s not something I’m particularly keen on doing,” Liv noted sympathetically. “But under the circumstances, it’s the best plan we’ve got. We’re just asking to pay him a visit so that we can get to the bottom of this.”

“I want you here sorting this out,” Collins insisted. “I don’t want to have the killer strike again while you’re off chasing down a hunch.”

“If need be, I can always head down,” Archie suggested. “I could take DC Shaw, and DS Harris can stay here and assist with any further queries.”

Collins nodded at the plan forming. “Okay, I think I can work with that. I’ll make a few calls and let you know what comes up.”

Outside the office, Liv turned to Archie and asked, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, someone needs to sort it out,” he insisted. “And at least you can still keep up to date with everything that’s happening here.”

“We’ve just got to hope that the killer doesn’t plan on targeting anybody in the next few days,” Liv prayed, though this was just wishful thinking on her part.

All the prep work was nearly finished.

He had everything he needed for the last part—fake ID, change of clothes. He’d rehearsed it so many times that the words came naturally to him. With a performance like that, he should have been in theatre. Maybe in another life…

It was the riskiest undertaking he’d ever performed, and he’d had no problem letting them know that. But he was being well compensated for it. Getting out wasn’t the problem. It was getting in. He couldn’t think of many people who would go to the trouble of breaking into prison.

26

Liv moved into the safe house with Dean, throwing a bag onto an old sofa as she tried to get used to her temporary surroundings. She couldn't help but see the irony in relying on a safe house for security on account of the difficulties Georgia Madsen had previously faced.

Personally, she would rather have gone to sleep in her own bed, but Dean had been insistent that she take the threat seriously.

“They still haven't found any of the bodies,” he tried to explain. “It's bad enough that the families have lost someone they love, but nobody knows what happened to their bodies. They haven't been able to have a proper burial. They have had to live all these years without any kind of closure. I wouldn't want the same for you.”

At their feet, Briggs took one look at the unfamiliar surroundings and immediately started whining, missing all of his usual comforts.

“You think this is a solution?” Liv asked. “Someone Makes threats, and I scarper? Not going to happen.”

“Maybe not,” Dean responded. “But I've just had to put my mother on a train out of town for a few nights and tell her it's for her own safety.” She flinched, realising the emotional drain it placed on him. “She's still in remission, Liv. I need to be with her in case anything happens.”

“It won't,” Liv responded. “I promise you.” Though she couldn't really say for sure. “I’m sorry that I’m always dragging you down with me.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Dean insisted, taking his hand in hers. “When we take those vows in a few months' time… and believe me, we will… I believe there’s something in there about sickness and in health… for better or for worse… I plan on sticking by that.”

Olivia was so overwhelmed by everything that’d been happening that she felt floored by Dean’s seemingly endless declaration of support. She wanted to collapse in his arms.

Instead, she lay down on the sofa, wishing she could just relax and not have to think about the next wave of evidence coming in.

“I've decided,” Dean decided, sitting down next to her, “that when this case is done, we’re going to go away for a little bit. I’ve booked us a trip.”

“Where?” she asked, curious.

“It’s a surprise,” he remarked. “I just want to make sure that you and I take some time away from everything else. We need to remember that there is a life outside of policing. And at the moment, that means taking some time away from Newquay.”

“And what about your mum?” she asked. Dean’s mother Marianna had been a wonderful addition to the family ever since she’d come to stay during Christmas.

“She’ll try and make things work in Newquay,” he explained. “Look after Briggs for a little while and keep the house warm until we get back.” There was something else that was on his mind. “I was also thinking… when we get married… should we do it in Newquay?”

Now Liv was fully alert as she sat upright on the sofa. “What?”

“I’m just thinking, this is meant to be the most important day of our lives. And I don’t want to risk some shithead with a grudge crawling out of the woodworks. Do you really want to leave it to chance?”

Liv turned the idea over in her head. She’d always imagined her friends and family being there for the special day. She knew that her job demanded a lot of her, sometimes more than she felt able to give. But she was always determined that her wedding day was supposed to be the one day where work wouldn’t get in the way.

Could she really afford to take that chance?

27

Collins had clearly been able to work his magic as the information on Rhys Petersen had come through, and Archie and Andrew were en route to meet with him.

The two officers didn’t often work together, and it meant they stumbled when it came to making small talk. Both men would rather have Liv and Diana to talk to, but they were too polite to say anything of the sort.

“So,” Archie began. “How are you finding your first few months of CID?”

“Well, I’ve not taken up drink or drugs or started developing a ridiculous amount of grey hair,” Andrew joked.

“Why, do I look like I’m ageing prematurely?” Archie asked, considering the stress that came with the job.

“You can probably still pass for…” Andrew gave a mock examination. “Fortyish?”

“Stick to going over suspects, you cheeky bastard,” Archie retorted, enjoying the levity after the stress of the last few days.

“Anyway, I’m surprised you find the time nowadays,” the junior detective responded, his tone still a little humorous. “How are things getting on with your new girlfriend?”

Archie smiled. For the past two months, he’d been dating the owner of an art gallery who’d previously been involved in a case. The romance between the two had been something steady, and Archie was grateful to have something positive in his life for the time being. Maybe someone that he would want to grow old with.

“You want to keep that spark going,” the DC insisted wholeheartedly, a sudden heaviness to his voice.

“Yes,” Archie responded, able to quickly identify the source of Andrew’s heartache. “I was really sorry about what happened with you and Helen. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you guys could work it out?”

“Trust me, my friend, that ship has sailed,” Andrew stated bluntly, thinking back to the moment they broke up. There were no heated words, no last-minute heartfelt proclamations. Just two people recognising that their relationship no longer carried the same spark it used to. “If I thought there was something worth saving, believe me, I would. But I think we were getting to the point where the only thing keeping us together was the fear of being alone.”

Archie nodded at this, trying to think of something sympathetic to say that didn’t sound like a stock phrase, like “there’s plenty more fish in the sea” or “you’re a great catch, you’ll probably find the right girl.” But all words evaded him.

Finally, they arrived at the location, parking up the road and walking up the footpath, hoping that nobody else would see them arrive.

They had seen pictures of Rhys as a young boy and wondered how age might have changed him.

They came up to the house. It was a small, shabby affair that certainly didn’t stand out among the masses. But maybe that was what Rhys needed, to be as invisible as possible.

Andrew and Archie knocked on the door, waiting patiently.

“Are you sure he’s going to be here?” Andrew asked, fighting off the urge to look through the window and see if anyone was inside.

“This is the address,” Archie iterated. “And given how far we’ve just had to travel, I’m not going anywhere until we have a word with him.”

The door opened, and a man who was supposed to be thirty was standing before them.

He had a head of close-cropped hair which was starting to go pepper grey. He was wearing a baggy green jumper that did little to hide his scarecrow frame.

“Can I help you guys?” Rhys Petersen asked, and as he took in the air of the two men before him, his face was flush with dread as the past he’d tried so hard to leave behind came rushing to greet him.

But Archie wondered if this was the look of a man who’d been caught out.

28

Rhys stood there, and for a moment, Archie wondered if he was going to try and shoo them away.

“Joe?” a woman’s voice called out from inside. “Who’s at the door?”

It didn’t surprise Andrew or Archie that he was still using a fake name, and they wondered how much his family knew about his previous life. Archie glimpsed the wedding ring on his finger.

“Just Jehovahs!” he called back. Checking out the official look of the pair, he said, “Listen, hun, I’m just going to go to the shop to get some milk, all right?” He grabbed his jacket and hurried quickly out of the door. “Come on, let’s take this down the footpath away from everyone else.”

He walked ahead briskly, prompting the detectives to struggle to catch him up.

“How did you know we were coppers?” Archie asked.

“I remember the people who came to my door,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets. “Just the way they carried themselves. You don’t forget that kind of thing.”

He looked down at the ground. “Why couldn’t you guys just leave me alone?” he suddenly hissed, taking the pair by surprise. “I did my time. It’s bad enough that I have to spend every day thinking of my mum, what I did to her. There have been times when I didn’t even know if I could go on…” He pulled up his arms, revealing several self-inflicted cuts, prompting Archie to look away. They got the feeling that he had been sitting on this guilt for a long time, and their showing up out of the blue had only brought back all those feelings.

“I’m sorry if this is difficult with us being here,” Andrew offered sincerely. “I get that you’re trying to move on.”

“How can I move on?” Rhys asked silently. “I’m always thinking of her. There’s always something that makes me think of her. A jumper she was wearing, a food she likes. I can’t escape it. Every now and then, I’ve had the welfare officers come round and tell me I’ve got a second chance, and I need to make the most of it. But sometimes, I feel like I don’t even want it.”

There was a part of Archie that wanted to move on and leave the man in what little peace he could salvage for himself. But then he thought about all the victims back in Newquay who were going without justice.

“Rhys…” he began gently. “I appreciate that this is difficult for you. But we have to ask you some questions. It’s not just about your mum. It’s about other things that were happening around that time.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“There was a series of deaths that took place, such as a drowning and a…” Andrew decided not to mention the specifics surrounding the car incident in case it triggered any more feelings about his mother. “Well, we were wondering if you knew anything about those deaths.”

“Why would I?” he asked incredulously. “I was ten years old! I was just trying to stop my bastard of a dad from ruining my mum’s life. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else in that moment!”

The detectives both knew they had to tread carefully regarding the interrogation. Anything they asked about that moment was bound to be painful.

Archie could tell they needed to gain his trust beforehand. “Listen, I can promise you that whatever happens, we will make sure none of this gets back to your family. We appreciate that you’ve built a life for yourself here. And trust me, we’re not looking to blow it up.”

Rhys listened carefully, seemingly fixating on the idea that he could still keep his family in the dark.

“There’s a park nearby. We can talk there.”

29

It had been an odd night in the safe house, and neither Dean nor Liv felt they’d got much in the way of sleep. They’d rather have been in the comfort of their own bed.

Liv had dosed herself with black coffee that morning in the hopes that it would get her through the day.

“How long did Collins say we would have to stay here for?” she asked Dean, who was feeding Briggs some toast.

“Presumably until the threat is no longer there,” he responded bluntly. “It’s a bit like asking Briggs here to grasp the concept of Sweden.”

The dog looked at them with a lopsided grin, completely oblivious.

There was a knock at the door, and they both froze. No one else apart from the police knew the location of the safe house.

Dean got up and motioned for Liv to stay where she was. He took hold of a paperweight, gripping it tightly, and got to the front door, pulling it open… and raising it above his head in preparation.

“Rein it in, man,” Katie Gibson said as she walked into the room, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I’ve just got away from the hospital. I don’t need you sending me back there.”

Dean stepped aside as she walked into the safe house carrying an overnight bag.

“So, they let you out?” Liv asked, surprised to see Katie back on her feet so soon.

“Didn’t really give them much choice,” the former journalist responded. “I just told them that I was going to make life hell for them if they didn’t let me out.”

“So, just being yourself, then,” Liv suggested, prompting Katie to give her the middle finger.

“I don’t fancy risking going back to my flat,” Katie said, before she paused. “Wait… there are still a lot of my notes around there.”

“What notes?” Liv asked.

“Notes that I took on the case with Georgia,” she explained. “Suspects, motive, a timeline, everything. They’re going to be on my laptop back at the flat.”

“Why didn’t you take the laptop with you?” Dean asked.

“It was kind of hard to think about the things you need to do when you’d just taken a brick to the face,” she retorted, slumping down on the sofa. “I’ve got to go back there and hope that nobody else has taken it.”

“If you want, I can go,” Liv suggested, prompting looks from both Katie and Dean. “What?”

“You really think that’s going to be safe after what happened to Katie?” Dean asked, clearly still in protective mode.

“There’s a difference between going in the middle of the night and in broad daylight,” she reasoned. “I’m going to be perfectly fine.”

Dean looked at Katie. There was a part of him that wanted to tear into her for all the trouble she’d brought to their doorstep, but he knew that Liv would only be pissed off with him later on.

“And don’t say ‘be careful,’” Liv insisted. “I’ve done this long enough to know how not to draw attention to myself. I’m just going to go there, get what I need, and then get out again. Fairly straightforward.”

“You realise that nothing’s ever straightforward where this woman is concerned?” Dean asked, looking over at Katie.

“Is there anything else I should bear in mind?” Liv asked as she picked up her jacket. “Other than wear a helmet?” she added sarcastically.

“Should be fairly straightforward,” the PI insisted.

Liv headed out the door, worried about what she might find when she got to the flat.

She found herself looking up and down the street to see if anyone else was watching her. Is this going to be my life now? Always looking over my shoulder?

30

Rhys Petersen was sitting on a park bench, hands folded. Archie wondered how exhausting it must have been for him to spend two-thirds of his life going over the events of a single day.

“So, to clarify, you had no idea about the other two deaths that were occurring around that time?” Archie queried, feeling they needed to put that issue to rest. He’d already concluded that Rhys didn’t have any involvement in the current spree that was taking place, and the more he listened, the more he felt like he was dragging out the man’s turmoil.

“No, I didn’t hear anything about that,” Rhys explained. “All my attention was what had happened with the car crash. It hadn’t taken long for the police to work out what’d happened, and I know what I did was wrong, but I was petrified of what this would mean for me. So, I thought if I kept quiet, then maybe it would all go away. I was scared that people would think I meant to kill her.” He wiped at his watering eyes. “I promise you, I didn’t. I loved her. She was the best person I ever knew. And all the good that she would have done, I’ve tried to do ever since I got out.”

“So, did anyone come up to you and approach you?” Andrew asked, trying to stay on topic. “Anything that might have looked a little odd?”

Rhys thought hard for a moment, and then his face brightened. “Yes, actually. One of the coppers who spoke to me. The other guy was all about being sympathetic and making sure I was all right, but he was just sitting in silence throughout the entire interrogation. Like I was some specimen. After the main guy was done asking me questions, he waited until his partner was gone, and then he took me to one side and said that he knew exactly what I’d done. At that point, I started panicking, but then he told me that he was going to get me out of it. He told me he just needed me to show him how I went about it, so he’d know what to say to his colleagues.”

Archie and Andrew looked quizzingly at each other. They’d heard of a lot of interrogative techniques utilised to get a confession out of a suspect, but they’d never heard of a copper offering to help a suspect get away with their crimes.

“He arranged for me to come and meet him later on. He said he was taking me out for a McDonalds, at which point he drove me to the place where they were keeping what was left of my mum’s car. And he wanted me to show him exactly what I’d done.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Andrew asked.

“It was horrible,” Rhys exclaimed. “I was being asked to relive the worst thing I’d ever done in my life. Most people have their worst moments much later in life. Mine came when I was ten. And I almost backed out of it. But that’s when he started getting nasty and telling me if I didn’t show him, I’d be on my own.”

The detectives were getting more and more suspicious of this copper, but they were too enraptured with Rhys’ story to interrupt.

“So, I showed him what I did, went through the motions. I had done a lot of searches online,” he explained. “At one point, I was going over the machinery and I hesitated, and he went and shoved my hand right up against the metalwork. And then when I was done explaining… he praised me.”

“What?” Andrew and Archie demanded at the same time.

“He said that it takes a smart lad to know what to do. And then he told me not to breathe a single word of what I’d said to anyone else. Said that no one would believe me, that it’d be their word against mine. So, I kept quiet.

“And then the next morning, I had all these coppers turn up to arrest me and tell me that they had proof of what I’d done. And when I was being led out, I remember seeing that same guy looking at me and doing a finger-slitting motion. So, I kept quiet throughout the whole thing.”

“And what was the name of the copper in question?” Archie asked.

“I think it was a DC Parker,” Rhys explained, and Archie and Rhys wondered if that was their man behind the latest spree.

31

Liv made her way up to Katie’s flat, having a rough idea of what to look for…

…when she skidded to a halt at the top of the stairway.

The front door was ajar. Liv couldn’t remember anyone leaving it open since they’d been there last.

She slowly stepped forward, looking into the main living space and saw… chaos.

The room had been turned upside down, furniture had been overturned, papers were spilled everywhere, and drawers had been pulled out and emptied onto the floor.

The whole place was a wreck.

She had seen a lot of home invasions in her time and had often got a good sense of the motivations just from looking at them, and she could see that the intruder had been searching for something. And so far, they hadn’t had much luck.

Liv’s thought process was interrupted by the sound of clanging from another room in the flat. Oh, shit, the bastard’s still here.

The banging stopped, and she could hear the sound of heavy footsteps.

Thinking quickly, she looked around the room. Seeing there were no feasible hiding places, she rushed out and stepped into the outside hallway of the flat and stood against the doorway, listening intently.

She heard someone coming into the main living space, kicking something as they moved. They grunted in frustration. Liv then heard the sound of a mobile ringing.

“Yeah, it’s me,” a gruff male voice called out. “No, she’s not here. I’ve got no idea where she is.”

So, they’d been here looking for Katie, Liv thought to herself, relieved that they weren’t going to come knocking on the safe house door any time soon.

“I’m telling you, I’ve turned the place upside down trying to find anything on the little bitch. But there’s nothing. Either the PI took it all with her, or she was smart enough not to leave a trail. Either way, there’s nothing more I can do.” There was a pause as the caller said something out of Liv’s hearing. “Look, if she was here, I’d be prying it out of her myself. But I can’t find her. It’s not like it changes anything. The job at the prison is still going ahead later today, so what difference does it make?”

Liv furrowed her brow. Job at the prison?

“The best thing to do is just sit tight and not do anything,” the man explained. “I’m almost done here anyway. Don’t get your knickers in a twist over it.”

He hung up the phone and grunted in frustration. There was the sound of kicking and something shattering before those same heavy footsteps started making their way towards the entrance.

Liv waited until a man emerged from the entrance—a tall, wiry man wearing a hoodie which he was pulling over his head. “Going somewhere?” Liv asked, wondering if this was the same man who’d got away from her the other night.

There were a few tense seconds before the man instantly darted for the stairway nearby. But Liv wasn’t going to let him get away again. She charged at him, and they grappled with each other, tumbling down the stairs and banging against the railing. He tried to scramble away, but she locked his hands behind his back and slapped the cuffs around them.

“I’m arresting you on suspicion of grievous bodily harm and breaking and entering,” she declared. “You do not have to say anything, however, it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something under questioning that you later go on to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” She rose, hauling the man to her feet along the way. “You want to spare me the search and tell me your name?”

“Fuck you,” he spat at her.

She wasn’t too bothered by the lack of cooperation. If he was a regular criminal, a quick fingerprint search would reveal all.

But even though she felt like she was finally getting answers, they were going to be followed up with even more questions. What kind of job was he talking about?

32

Archie and Andrew had given Rhys a moment to himself, feeling that they’d put him through enough already, and they needed time to make sense of everything they’d heard.

“So, what are your thoughts?” Archie asked, interested in the junior detective’s input.

“Honestly, I don’t think he’s connected to the current spree in any way,” Andrew insisted. “I don’t see anything calculated about him. I just see a guy who made a very bad mistake and is going to spend the rest of his life paying for it, no matter what he says or does.” He looked over at Rhys sympathetically, wishing there was something he could do to take the man’s pain away. “You haven’t heard anything about this DC Parker, have you?”

“It’s not a name that rings any bells,” Archie said with a shrug. “But if he was involved in collecting the evidence, then there will be something on record.”

“All the stuff Rhys talked about… I can’t think of a single copper who has ever interrogated a suspect like that, let alone a child.”

“It’s not just how he was asking that worries me, but why,” Archie insisted. “Anyone can work out how to cut the brakes on a car. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “I bet if we looked over the crime scene reports on the other car brakes, we would see that they had been cut identically to the brakes on the Petersen car.”

“So… he could have been asking for those details so he could match them himself?” Andrew asked, wondering if they had a killer copper on their hands.

“I don’t know for sure,” Archie replied, before taking out his phone. “But I need to run a few details by Tim and Clara before I make any more judgments.”

He waited for the phone to pick up. “Hi, Tim, it’s Archie. Do you have access to any of the other case files to hand?”

“Yes, got them spread out in front of me. Why?”

“I want you to look over the people involved in the first spree, specifically, the investigating officers in the Sara Petersen death. A DC Parker.”

“Sure, looking it up right now.” There was a pause before he came back with, “Got it for you. There was a Detective Constable Neil Parker. Gathered a lot of the evidence and interrogated Rhys Petersen.”

“I want you to bring up his service record,” Archie instructed.

“He joined the police force in 1999 at the age of eighteen, straight out of school, made Detective Constable five years later. Then he made Detective Sergeant three years after that. He’s stayed at that rank since.”

“And where is he based?” Archie asked.

“Cumbria, the Lake District,” Tim answered.

“Same place where Sara Petersen died.” They knew he wasn’t responsible for her death, but that had been where it had started, and they wondered whether the other unsolved murders in the areas could be attributed to the DS.

“Should I be worried?” Tim asked.

“Yes. Yes, you should,” DS Elmhurst replied. “The details on that copper, I want them sent over to Liv as soon as you get off the phone. I think this could be the guy committing the April Fool’s Murders.”

“Seriously?” Tim asked disbelievingly. “One of our own?”

“It would explain how he’s able to avoid any of the forensic tests,” DS Elmhurst surmised. “Do it now, we’re going to be finishing up here.” He hung up the phone and walked over to Rhys. “Thank you so much for your cooperation, Rhys. You’ve been a big help. We’ll let you get on home if you want.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather sit here for a while,” he asked solemnly.

“Of course,” Andrew said, before speaking to Archie in a hushed voice. “So, what do we do now?”

“We need to get back to Newquay ASAP. And we need to speak to Cumbria CID to get DS Parker’s movements over the next few days.”

33

Despite the intruder’s reluctance to surrender any useful information, a database search had revealed his name to be Darrell Marsh, a regular criminal with a history of armed robbery and grievous bodily harm.

DI Dean Lawrence had joined Liv for the meeting. “Honestly, Darrell, how many times are we going to do this song and dance? You haven’t even been out of prison for that long and already you’re pulling stunts like this?” Having looked at his criminal record, she imagined he’d spent the bulk of his adult life in prison. Any release date was like going on holiday to him.

“No comment,” Darrell snapped, arms folded defiantly.

“Do you even know Katie Gibson?” Dean asked, surprising Liv with his indignation. At least he isn’t going to let his personal feelings get in the way of doing his job. “Why the need to target her?”

“Look,” Darrell insisted, leaning across the table. “I’ve got nothing against the woman personally. I barely know her. But I was given a job with a huge price tag attached to it, so she was more or less fair game.”

“Why did people want her intimidated?” Liv asked, even though she knew there were a few people who would be more than happy to see the back of the disgraced journalist.

“They felt she was sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted,” he said. “Like I told you, I don’t give a damn what she is supposed to have done. It was decent money for minimal work.”

“Well, that money’s not going to do you much good inside,” Dean retorted. “So far, you haven’t committed any murders… as far as we know. But we know that you’re acting on behalf of someone else. And whoever they are, whatever they’ve promised you, they will have no problem leaving you to rot.”

Liv found herself thinking of Robert Lister, who’d been confident that he’d be out of prison soon. “We can help you, but only if you tell us the full story. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can take it from there.”

Darrell sighed, so Liv tried a different angle.

“We know you mentioned a job taking place at the prison.” Liv said. “Now, I don’t know what kind of job you’re talking about, but I imagine it’s dirty work. And if anyone dies up there and you helped to organise it, then you could be charged for conspiracy to commit murder. And then you’ll put yourself in a hole that none of us will be able to get you out of. But you tell us now, and you can avoid the worst of the charges, and the contribution will be taken into account.”

“You know the people you’re trying to protect, they don’t give a damn about you,” Dean insisted. “Loyalty is supposed to go both ways.”

“Fine,” Darrell grumbled. “The job is for someone to be bumped off in the prison. Made to look like an accident.”

Liv’s ears pricked up at that last point. “An accident?”

“Yes, someone wants bumping off, but they don’t want to draw too much attention to themselves, so they’re dressing it up as an accident so that there are no questions asked.”

Olivia nodded slowly, the wheels turning in her head.

“Do you know who is supposed to be carrying out the murder,” Dean asked, clearly sick and tired of hearing the word ‘accident’ thrown around.

“No, I don’t have any names for them,” Darrell explained to their disappointment.

“Do you at least know who the target of the hit is?” Liv asked.

“Yeah, it’s a copper. Robert Lister.”

Liv gulped. There was so much she needed to get off her chest. “Interview suspended.” She got up from her seat and left the room, Dean following closely behind.

34

“So let me say this out loud,” Dean began. “Because I need to get this straight in my head. We’ve been working two different cases for the last few days, the Robert Lister case and the April Fools case. And now, the killer of all those murders from the last few years… is targeting a PC? Why?”

“I couldn’t say,” she responded, trying the phone. “I thought we were dealing with your typical run-of-the-mill serial killer. I didn’t realise they were into organised hits.”

“Do you think this could be part of the pattern?” Dean surmised. “I mean, every single spree has seen at least one copper go missing. We spent so long thinking it was you he was targeting, but maybe he was after somebody else.” He then added in a sotto voice, “Not that I’m complaining. Believe me, I’d rather he set his sights on that shitbag than you.”

Liv would feel flattered if not for the fact that Dean was advocating murder.

“Lister clearly didn’t want to do any talking,” Dean continued. “I thought that was because he didn’t want to be a grass. Now I think he was scared of what they’d do.”

“Doesn’t seem to have done much good,” Liv explained as the phone finally picked up. “Hi, this is Detective Inspector Austin. Can I speak with the governing governor?”

Once again, she was told to wait. “I swear, the number of times they’ve put me on hold, Lister’s going to be dead by the time I get through to anyone.”

Suddenly, Tim Harris came rushing up to them. “Liv, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Not now, Tim,” she insisted, holding up a hand for silence.

“It’s about the killer. I’ve just speaking with Archie and Andrew. And I think I’ve got a name.”

This gave Liv pause. She handed the phone to Dean. “You take over,” she commanded, giving the DS her full attention. “What are we looking at?”

“It’s one of our own. A DS Neil Parker of Cumbria CID.”

Liv felt her stomach plummet. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. The way he conducted himself in that investigation doesn’t ring true. And I looked over the very first spree back in 2005. No coppers went missing during that time.”

“Sorry, but isn’t that going against his narrative?” Dean asked, listening in while still waiting to get through. “Those coppers went missing and haven’t been found. We’re talking a blatant death.”

“Maybe he’s being forced to improvise,” Tim suggested. “If Lister is his target, then he’s going to have a hard time making a prisoner disappear. So, it might be easier to just kill him outright.”

After so long with no leads, Liv felt overwhelmed by all the revelations coming left right and centre.

Finally, Dean managed to get through. “Hello? This is Detective Inspector Dean Lawrence of Newquay CID. I believe one of your prisoners, Robert Lister, is in danger of an assassination attempt. I want him moved to a secure location until we can get there.” The staff on the other end were clearly protesting, so Dean hammered the point home. “No, this needs to be done now. We’re going to get there as soon as we can, and I want that entire place on lockdown if you have to.” There was a pause as the caller responded with no end of indignation at being told how to do his job. “If you don’t, then it’s your funeral.” He turned off the phone. “Knobhead. It’s almost like they want him to die.”

“We’ve got to get down there straight away.” Liv insisted, rushing to get her coat on. She looked to Tim. “Let me know when Archie and Andrew get back. I’ve got to sort this mess out. Dean, you’re with me.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to this much effort to save that piece of filth,” Dean muttered.

“It’s not for him,” Liv replied. “It’s for Georgia. She deserves to have some closure knowing that the man who hurt her is paying for it.”

She could only hope they weren’t too late.

35

While the bulk of DS Neil Parker’s extracurricular activities were about pleasure, this one was strictly business. And no matter how hard he tried, he never found it in himself to enjoy taking out his fellow cops. Not because he felt any kind of solidarity to them, but because his hand was being forced.

He thought back to the first few people he’d killed—an ex-girlfriend who’d been cheating on him and a guy who was protesting about his methods as a police officer.

So, he’d staged their deaths as accidents. He’d found that it’d been easier to have it swept under the carpet as ‘death by misadventure’ rather risk a full-scale police investigation coming back to bite him in the arse. And hearing about the young boy who’d accidentally killed his own mother, he thought that was another string to his bow that he could rely on.

He’d never intended to become a recurring serial killer. It’d just been about dealing with a few people who pissed him off.

But then, five years later, he’d been approached by someone who had somehow found out about his extracurricular activities and was not shy about using them against him. Rather than seeing charges brought against him, they’d made a proposition to him.

They would keep his secret, providing he kept up the sprees, finding a group of random people to die in apparent accidents while focusing on taking out certain members of the police force.

The first name he was given was Detective Inspector Vic Maitland, who had blundered his way from one corrupt affair to another, and as he was soon to be facing charges, they wanted him shut up for good.

Parker had lured him into a trap, and every few years, he committed the same sprees, hiding the intended targets behind a web of obscurity. They hadn’t required his services consistently, only popping up when they needed to remove somebody who could do some serious damage.

By then, Parker had made a point of not finding out what these coppers had done. He’d had his suspicions that they were involved in corrupt activities and had to be taken out to avoid incriminating all the other people who might be affected.

He’d targeted some more people over the last few days, keeping up the pattern, and knowing that with the way the police operated, they would be focused on the killer, not so much on the target.

Robert Lister’s name had come across his doorstep a month ago, and he’d been told that he had to be sorted. But this wasn’t like any of the other rotten apples he’d discreetly discarded. He couldn’t make their bodies disappear as he had with Vic Maitland and several others. Robert Lister was banged up in prison. Even though there were several ways in which a bent copper on remand could be made to disappear, he had to be smart about it and make sure it was done in a way that the only possible explanation would be that he’d died an accidental death. There would probably be an autopsy, but by the time they saw anything that indicated foul play, he’d be far away.

He walked through the prison wearing the uniform he’d acquired, thinking about what method he’d use. A choking hazard seemed like a good one. He hadn’t considered that one before. Maybe he could use it on a future victim.

People barely batted an eyelid at him, assuming he’d transferred from another area.

Looking down the corridor, he saw Lister being escorted by two armed guards.

“What’s going on?” he asked, having hoped to have some alone time with the man.

“We’ve had a report that someone’s trying to bump this one off,” the screw muttered, looking at Lister and continuing, “If it was me, I’d just throw him to the wolves.”

“I am standing here, you know,” Lister complained.

“I wish you weren’t,” the guard retorted.

“Why don’t you let me have him?” Parker suggested. “Take him off your hands?”

“Be my guest,” they said, roughly shoving him into Parker’s awaiting arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of harm’s way.”

36

Despite the cool demeanour Parker was giving off, inside, he was panicking. How the hell had the police found out about today’s attempt? He’d been told that he would have all the time he needed to kill Lister, and now he was operating on a ticking timer. It had occurred to him to just get the fuck out of dodge before the police arrived, but that would not have been a good idea. Not when the people strong-arming him knew all his secrets. Not when they could cause the cosy life he’d built up for himself to come crashing down. No, he would have to see this through to the end.

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me,” Lister insisted as they walked.

Parker was well aware of the offences that Lister was accused of, and despite his own lack of scruples, the actions of this man disgusted him no end. He privately felt that killing a piece of filth like Robert Lister would be tantamount to a public service,

“We’re just going to get you in solitary confinement,” he explained, having his kit at the ready.

Outside the prison, Liv and Dean tried to get through the security gates, rushing around and pushing past people. “Come on, get us the fuck in!” she insisted angrily.

Once they were inside the facility, they made it down to the wing where Lister’s cell was based. They went into the main office, and Liv demanded, “Where’s the key to Robert Lister’s cell?”

“Oh, he’s not in there,” a guard replied, a chubby older man more concerned with putting his feet up and working through a pack of digestive biscuits than in guarding the prisoners. “He was taken down to solitary confinement.”

“Did you get a look at the officer who took him?” Dean demanded, knowing that Parker would have easily pulled the wool over everybody’s eyes.

“Why would I need to? The guy had a uniform, what more do you need?” the guard said indignantly before going back to his phone.

“Fucking useless,” Liv muttered under her breath. “I want your keys.”

“I can come with you,” the guard said in a tone that made him sound like a martyr.

Not at the rate you’re going, you lazy bastard.

Once they were alone in the cell, Parker started preparing the syringe that would end Lister’s life. It was the same substance that he’d injected into Faye McDowell’s water bottle at the swimming bath. He’d didn’t like having to repeat methods within the same spree, but needs must when the devil drives.

“Listen,” Lister asked, completely oblivious. “Is there someone I can speak to? Someone who can get me out of this? I’ve been patient enough. I’ve kept my mouth shut. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Parker said, turning around and hounding the syringe. “You won’t have to worry about that for much longer.”

Robert looked at the man, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend. And it was only when Parker lunged for him that he realised. He tried to push the other man away, but that was difficult with the restraints on his body.

“You brought this on yourself,” Parker said as he brought the needle to Lister’s neck and prepared to inject, knowing there was still time for him to get away unnoticed.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and two people rushed into the room. A woman grabbed at Parker, pulling him away, while the man checked over Lister. The syringe had not been emptied.

“Neil Parker,” Olivia Austin began as she restrained the man. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, however, it may harm your defence if you fail to mention under questioning something you later go on to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

37

Given all the chaos that’d unfolded over the past few days, Superintendent Collins was in a surprisingly good mood. They’d been able to apprehend a serial killer that’d been evaded justice for two decades and had been responsible for the murders of several police officers. He hoped that it would allow the families a modicum of closure.

But Liv wondered how long that good feeling would last when the contrarians came out to ask why they’d not only been able up on the activities of a noted serial killer but had been unable to notice the deceptions of one of their own. Liv felt that the police should be bracing themselves for accusations of a cover-up.

But that was for the future. For the time being, Liv and Dean sat in the interrogation room opposite Neil Parker. It was always an unnerving feeling sitting across from a serial killer. She spent so long building up a profile through images and witness reports, but to actually have him sitting here in the flesh reminded her that for all his mystique, he was still only a man. A weak, pathetic man with a superiority complex.

“We’ve been speaking to a few people,” Liv said, thinking of Rhys Petersen who’d been forced to relive his own trauma to give them this breakthrough. “And it seems you’re not the squeaky-clean officer everyone things you are.”

“Took you long enough to work that one out.” Ironically, Parker had worked so hard to avoid having his secret exposed that now that it was all coming out, he felt there was no point in keeping up a charade. He had nothing to lose. “I could have gone to my grave without anyone any the wiser.”

“So, why those people?” Dean asked, needing to understand why so many had lost their lives in such a trivial way.

“I needed a target, or more specifically, I needed to find somebody who would fit the profile of the victim,” Parker explained casually. “And it can be quite liberating. I’m not someone who needs to do it all the time, just every few years, enough to let off a bit of steam before going back to the rigmarole of work. We all have ways of destressing.”

“But your way leaves devastation in its wake,” Liv said, knowing she’d have to speak to Faye McDowell and Sebastian Brent’s families and tell them that their loved ones had died randomly, like names being picked out of hat.

“To be honest, I don’t know why you worked so hard to save Lister,” Parker explained. “He’s a waste of skin.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Dean stated, having revised his stance since Liv’s slight admonishing. “So, why did you target coppers specifically?”

“I was strong-armed into it,” Parker explained. “Someone found out about the first batch, and they wanted a bogeyman, basically. They wanted somebody to take out the rubbish. They wanted to keep their hands clean, and mine were already dirty. As far as they were concerned, it was a match made in heaven.”

“Do you know who has been blackmailing you?” Liv queried.

“God, you really are slow on the upkeep, aren’t you?” Parker scoffed. “If I knew who had me over a barrel, do you think I’d let them keep my balls in a vise for two decades? I tried to find out. God knows I tried. But they were all dead ends. So, I figured rather than waste any more time, I might as well get on with it.”

“You’re not worried that they might come after you?” Dean asked, surprised that they finally had a suspect more concerned with keeping quiet.

“How can I stab them in the back if I don’t even know which back I’m stabbing?” the copper asked. “You know everything I know, so there’s really no point in coming after me.”

While Liv and Dean were grateful that they had caught the serial killer, both were feeling a little disheartened that Neil Parker was only a minor piece of the puzzle.

For a man who had his whole life taken away from him and now faced being locked up in a place where coppers were universally hated, he seemed surprisingly calm, leaving Liv to wonder if there was something more to come.

“I get the lifestyle I lead,” Parker said as though responding to her thoughts. “I always knew it would catch up with me. And here it is.”

EPILOGUE

“One of these days, I’m going to call you up and you’re going to tell me that you’ve had a very boring week without any kind of lasting trauma that needs unpacking,” Detective Sergeant Nikki Harding remarked through the Skype camera.

It’d become a recurring tradition for Olivia to catch up with her colleague and friend over Skype, ever since Nikki had transferred to Derby CID in the aftermath of her husband’s death, a move that had once thought temporary, and now, she was looking at making it permanent. Liv was saddened at the prospect of not working with her friend on another case, but she was grateful that Nikki had been able to find some peace for herself.

“You actually caught me at a very good time,” Nikki stated, gesturing to a load of plastic boxes featuring plastic walls. Nikki’s little daughter Francesca was climbing on one of them, prompting Nikki to quickly shift her off. “Come on down from there, little monkey.” She turned back to the camera. “It’s her birthday next week.”

“Happy birthday, Frankie!” Liv called through the camera, and the little girl looked back at her and waved.

“We’ve got her a little playhouse for the garden, and we’re going to look at putting it together later,” Nikki explained, looking over at it. “I’m told that it’ll all work out if I just read the instructions, but my hopes aren’t high.”

Liv looked at the boxes in the background, seeing it as yet another reminder of Nikki setting down her new roots.

“Oh, I meant to tell you that I spoke with Georgia,” Nikki explained, and Liv had to remember that she’d given the key witness her friend’s number earlier.

“And how that go?” Liv asked gently.

“I think there’s a lot of work to be done there,” the sergeant explained. “She was falling into the same trap I was, blaming herself and thinking, ‘why didn’t I see anything coming?’ I had to get across to her that that’s not a case of her being blind, that’s just a case of a bloke working very hard to blind her.”

“That’s borderline poetic for you, Nikki,” Liv exclaimed.

“I do my best,” the sergeant beamed humorously before turning serious again. “It actually did some good for me to, if I’m honest. I spent a long time blaming myself for what happened to my husband, and every time I mentioned him, it helped me make more sense of what had happened to me. Problems is, I’m not going to get any closure with Enzo. When I think about him, there are so many things I want to ask him. I want to know what led him down that path, what made him think it was worth risking his family’s future. So many things left unsaid. And it wasn’t like it was all bad. There was a time when we genuinely loved each other. I was…” She paused, keeping her emotions at bay. “...I was going through some of his old stuff the other day. Can’t remember why, maybe it was for nostalgic reasons. And I think I needed that. I needed to remind myself that there was actually a person underneath all that poison, a person that I loved and shared my life with. And I wouldn’t go as far as to say it gave me closure, but it’s a nice start.”

Liv went quiet, letting Nikki bear her soul.

Nikki took a deep breath, as though quickly recovering. “Anyway, you’ll probably have an easier time getting closer for Georgia as her tormentor is still alive. Speaking of which, how is the little scrotum doing?”

“Well, he’s done a complete U-turn,” Liv explained. “First, we couldn’t get him to talk, and how he’s refused to shut up.” It remained to be seen how useful the information would be, but in light of the attempt on his life, Robert Lister had started saying everything he could think of regarding the people who were propping him up, providing bank balances and a few meetings with people. He hadn’t been able to name many people, but it was a good start.

“Just don’t let him wriggle off the hook completely,” Nikki insisted. “By all means, milk that cow until it’s bone dry, but make sure that he still pays for what he did to Georgia.”

“I will,” Liv promised.

“Is it wrong that I can see a lot of irony with this whole situation?” Katie asked, having since straightened out her apartment following the initial break-in, the window now repaired. “I went undercover as a police officer to expose corruption in the service. If I hadn’t been caught out until a few months later, who knows what I would have uncovered. I might have even been vindicated.”

“But would you have stuck your neck out for Georgia the way you have?” Liv asked, thinking of the significant contribution the former journalist had made to the case and how she had revealed things that still left Liv’s head spinning.

“Probably not,” Katie said jokingly. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never met you, Olivia. I was definitely much better off as a self-serving opportunist. So, where do we go from here?”

“Well, while we don’t need to raise the alarm bells just yet, we need to make sure that Georgia has some protection, just in case they come for her. Lister has got to be kept in protective custody, and we’ve just got to keep probing him until we find something we can use.”

Katie eased herself into a chair, careful not to rest her head against it. “Olivia, a word of advice to you. In my work as a journalist, I often had to uncover the kind of things that people didn’t want coming out. I’ve had smear campaigns thrown my way, attempts to discredit me. You and Dean both need to know that this is going to get rough. We knew that there was a bent copper involved in all this, but over the last month, we’ve gone from one or two rotten apples to an entire barrel, and we still don’t know how high this will go. But we all need to be careful. We could be going after chief constables for all we know.”

“I think you might be exaggerating,” Liv stammered, though the thought had occurred to her that these crimes could be spearheaded by someone of noteworthy rank, far beyond the capabilities of a uniformed PC.

Katie continued. “You have made a massive dent to them. And the more you keep digging, the lighter their wallets are going to get, the more they’re going to gun for you. I’m not trying to scare the shit out of you, but you need to think about what’s coming. Because these people will stoop very low to keep you from airing their dirty laundry. We’ve seen that they’re not above trying to kill coppers, and Lister was on their side to begin with. They’re in a nice cosy position, and they clearly plan on staying there.

“The most important lesson I’ve learned in this line of work is never underestimate what the people in power will do to stay there.”

THE END

TO BE CONTINUED…

Find out more in Book Forty-Seven here: Land of Bodies

DS NIKKI HARDING WILL RETURN IN HER OWN SERIES:

BOOK 1 - BLOOD LIKE WINE

RELEASE DATE COMING SOON!

Looking for Book Forty-Seven? Don’t worry, it’s here!

Land Of Bodies - DI Austin Book Forty-Seven

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Sins Evoked - DS Leah West Book One

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Find the Girl - DI Austin Book One

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’ve always had a passion for writing stories and loved being able to create a world and have my characters live inside it. Being able to do this has been a dream come true and I’m so grateful that you could join me on this journey .

I live in the United Kingdom with my Husband and four young children who keep me busy and who I wouldn’t ever be without.

I hope you enjoy reading my books and please feel free to join me on social media where I love to interact with my readers!

mrsrobertswrites@hotmail.com