POISON LOVE LETTERS

DI OLIVIA AUSTIN - BOOK FORTY-FOUR

NIC ROBERTS

Copyright © 2025 by Nic Roberts

‘Poison Love Letters’

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

She didn’t realise the danger she was walking into.

She’d been to Newquay several times as a teenager. In some ways, her trip there felt a lot like coming home. She’d had so many firsts there.

She walked into the hotel suite, prepared for the glamour awaiting her. She hoped that somebody would roll out the red carpet. She was a little disappointed to see several people in the lobby going about their business and not standing to attention as she walked through the door.

She wagered that her name would be on everyone’s lips by the end of the day. She’d need to speak to her PA to find out if the right suite had been booked.

She was dressed in the attire that adjourned the book dust jackets—a blue pantsuit and a red shirt with red heels that gave an audible click as she crossed the landing.

“Is my room ready?” she asked the receptionist, speaking with an authority that a lifetime of fame had granted her.

“Yes, ma’am, and we’ve got some compliments of the house already sent up to you,” the desk clerk said. He was a younger man who probably hadn’t read any of her books, not that it stopped him from being courteous with her, clearly having been told by management to give her the VIP treatment.

She walked up to the suite and saw a pile of letters on the table, no doubt her legion of creepy, if adoring, fans knew that she was going to be staying in Newquay for the fortnight and the most dedicated—and most obsessive— fans had found the hotel where she was staying.

She felt like that should bother her more than it did, but she remembered a time when she would walk down the street, and no one would stop to look at her.

Now, she was recognised by everyone.

She poured herself a glass of water and walked over to the bed while going through some of the messages.

It always amused her when people tried to compliment her writing by mimicking it. But the result just ended up looking cringy.

She looked over at the book that was lying on her bedside table, wishing she could muster some of the enthusiasm she’d felt when she first started writing.

She’d published twelve books in the past decade, and she certainly didn’t have to worry about money. She was living her best life… she hoped.

There were times when she found herself wondering about what she’d left behind. She thought back to that time of her life when she was trying to make a name for herself as a writer while holding down a job that drained away at her.

She found herself thinking of the companionship she’d enjoyed in that time, the clinking of glasses as she’d finished a chapter, and how he tried to put her in a celebratory mood even when she wasn’t feeling it herself. She remembered feeling his soft hands running over her skin, the touch electrifying, and then the fingers were replaced by his lips…

No, she couldn’t think of him anymore. She knew of the resentment he’d felt that he had never been the inspiration for any of her characters. All she’d done was create a legion of lovers that he could never live up to.

She turned her attention away from him and focused on one of the handwritten letters. It baffled her that so many people still used handwriting rather than just banging out a few words on a keyboard. But then again, she had to admire the lengths some people were willing to go to to impress her.

Her hands drifted over the page as she read the flowery words, but her face darkened with each passing paragraph until she finally settled on the haunting words.

“If I can’t have you in this life, maybe I’ll have you in the next.”

1

Olivia Austin didn’t think she’d ever worked an investigation like this.

She hadn’t considered that she might have to investigate members of her own team…

“So basically, you are being tasked with finding out which one of the team has been playing ‘hide the sausage?’” DS Nikki Harding asked over the Skype message.

“That’s not quite how I would have phrased it, but yes, pretty much,” Olivia replied. Her run-ups to Valentine’s Day had always been eventful, and she’d usually had to contend with some weirdo trying to take advantage of the holiday to deliver on some twisted romance.

But this was something else altogether.

A few weeks ago, Newquay CID had received an anonymous call from a woman who’d since given birth to a baby and was claiming the father was one of the officers in the station. As a result, the team had spent the last few weeks trying to get to the bottom of the accusations.

“Well, I think you can rule me out,” Nikki chortled sarcastically. “So, who do you think it could be?”

Liv hadn’t felt comfortable at the idea of interrogating her team on their sex lives.

“Duracell’s got the most active experience…” Nikki suggested.

“No,” Liv replied instinctively. Andrew Shaw would never cheat on his partner… even if they were currently going through a rough patch.

“You sure the woman’s not bullshitting you?” Nikki asked. “In my experience, when women go pulling a newborn kid out of thin air, they’re normally after money. Either that or to drag our name through the mud.”

“We’re still trying to get some more info on her. Apparently, she was previously a witness in protective custody, and she says that one of the officers was looking out for her, ended up taking advantage of her, and now, nine months down the line, a baby turns up.”

“She’s just dicking with you,” Nikki said bluntly. “If…” She paused as her small four-year-old daughter Francesca came into the room and perched herself on her mother’s lap in front of the camera, cuddling a stuffed animal. Liv couldn’t help but feel a bit amused, wondering how Nikki, known for her blunt and often adult manner, would water her language down in front of the girl. “If she really… cared so much, she’d bring her baby in for a test. That’s the quickest way to do it.”

Liv suppressed a laugh at watching Nikki straining to use less provocative language.

“Well, it’s not like people have ever made things easy for us,” she said, looking at her friend and wishing she had some of Nikki’s fire.

“So, you got any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Nikki asked. “And please don’t say something like you’re bogged down with work.” She looked down at Francesca balancing on her lap.

“Me and Dean are trying to get something sorted,” Liv replied, knowing that they’d been trying to juggle work with prospective wedding plans with supporting Dean’s mother Marianna through a cancer remission. It’s like time is constantly stacked against us.

“Italians are great romantics,” the sergeant exclaimed over the camera. “Believe me, I know.” Her face faltered as she was no doubt thinking about her deceased husband Enzo.

Liv was suddenly conscious of the small girl bouncing in Nikki’s lap, wondering how the loss of her father at such a young age would impact her.

“We’ve got a few things going on for Valentine’s,” Nikki said, looking down at her daughter. “This one is having a Pixar binge. She’s obsessed with Finding Nemo.”

“Can all my toys watch too, Mummy?” Francesca asked, prompting a smile from Olivia. She could see the light the girl brought into Nikki’s world and wondered how her own life might be enriched if she had a daughter of her own.

“So, you’re still no closer to finding out who the father is?” Superintendent Collins asked, pacing up and down his office. Liv would have thought he’d get used to the idea of his world crumbling around him. It happened on a regular basis.

“Without a DNA test and without this woman coming forward,” Liv admitted, used to being the bearer of bad news, “there’s only so much we can do.” She paused. “Sir, we have to consider that there’s no baby and this woman is trying to spread controversy.”

“You don’t think I’ve considered that?” Collins asked. “You think I’m not aware of the damage this is going to do to morale? I know a lot of my officers aren’t going to appreciate undergoing this interrogation.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied. “I’ve had one PC already get irate and ask me if I’m going to be collecting sperm samples from everyone.”

Collins looked pensive briefly, as though he were considering the idea. “Well, I’m more worried about her going to the press. Journalists are always looking for any excuse to drag us through the mud, and I don’t need to wake up to some headlines saying that the police are populated by man-whores. I don’t care if it’s false. Rumours stick like mud. I’m still recovering from the Katie Gibson fiasco, and I’ve been told to keep my blood pressure down.”

“We can always try tracking the mother down, but I should say we’ve got very little to go on,” Liv noted bitterly. “It probably won’t get us anywhere. All we can hope is that the accusations go nowhere. We haven’t heard anything since she first popped up.”

The superintendent wanted to be reassured, but he was clearly struggling with the fresh bout of bad news.

Liv left the office and tried to keep herself busy with work. On her desk, she saw a small bundle of roses.

“No guesses who they’re from,” DS Archie Elmhurst observed from his own desk.

Liv looked at the card. For the best woman in the world so that she always remembers what she’s got to come home to. All my love, Dean.

“You’re both very lucky,” Archie said. “When I look at you two, it’s like every day is Valentine’s Day.” He initially sounded enthusiastic, but his tone quickly sounded more downtrodden as he spoke.

“I take it you don’t have anything planned?” Liv asked, feeling a tinge of sadness. “You definitely make quite the eligible bachelor.”

“Tell that to the legions of single women out there,” he replied, trying to play down his appeal. “I’m okay with it, you know. I’ve learned by now not to force the situation. I think it’s better to wait for the right moment to come rather than forcing it.”

“As long as you’re not going to spend your whole life waiting,” Liv said as she placed the roses next to her computer. “You never know, you could always look for advice. And you might find some of that advice close to home.”

“Oh,” Archie exclaimed unenthusiastically. “You’re thinking about Eleanor Maddocks, aren’t you? I know I’m lonely, but I’m not that desperate.”

“She writes enough romance, chances are she’ll know what she’s talking about.”

“No, those books are not romance. They’re porn—very wordy porn,” Archie replied. “In my experience, sex is only enjoyable if you’re the one doing it.”

“Well, most people are…” Liv muttered under her breath. “Just on their own.”

Eleanor Maddocks was one of the most prominent erotic authors working in the UK. While many publications had questioned the literary merit of her work, she’d made a fortune from her erotic novels, with some even touting her as the next E.L. James. And though Liv had professed repeatedly that she was perfectly happy with Dean, that hadn’t stopped her from reading a book or two. Now, the author was down in Newquay for a few days as part of a book tour. She’d even heard rumours that she was doing research for her latest book to be set in Newquay.

“You never know, you might get to meet her,” Liv suggested hopefully. “These celebrity types are always picking up stalkers. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“If she needs a security detail, that’s going to be down to a couple of PCs. I hardly think there’s going to be anything that requires CID getting involved,” Archie noted.

Liv was about to agree when she picked up the phone. “Detective Inspector Austin.” She paused and listened intently. “I see. Well, we’ll be down there in… twenty minutes, give or take the traffic. Okay, thank you.” She turned and looked grimly at her partner. “I think you might be about to eat your words, Arch.”

2

“She is refusing to come out of her room or let anyone in,” one of the bellboys said as he stood outside the door to Eleanor Maddocks’ suite. “We’ve tried to reassure her, but she won’t budge.” He lowered his breath and asked, “Should I… kick the door down?”

“I can hear you out there, you pervert!” a haughty, shrill voice called from inside.

Liv rubbed her eyes. She wasn’t used to this much pushback from the victim of a crime. Trust me to get stuck with the diva. She moved forward and knocked on the door. “Ms Maddocks, this is Detective Inspector Austin. I’m here with my colleague, Detective Sergeant Elmhurst. Could you let us in please?”

The door opened ever so slightly, and Liv could see a pair of squinting eyes staring out. “Show me your ID.” Now I know what they mean by ‘never meet your idols’.

Liv sighed and took out her ID card. To her surprise, the woman snatched it out of her hand through the gap and studied it, clearly checking its authenticity. “Okay, you can come in.”

The door opened fully, and Liv and Archie quickly hurried into the room before she could shut it again.

Liv looked the woman up and down, having seen her face covering the dust jackets of several books. Even in person, she could see the woman was all about image.

Her face glistened, and though Liv had heard Ms Maddocks was approaching fifty, she was clearly trying to pass for mid-thirties. Her face was shining, and Liv couldn’t tell how much of that was from tanning and how much was from Botox. Her mane of black hair glistened as it travelled down her back. She wore a purple blouse with a blue pantsuit, and she was wearing the kind of designer shoes that made Liv’s mouth water. No way I could afford that on my salary.

“So, what’s happened, Ms Maddocks?” Archie asked, taking his pocketbook out.

Ms Maddocks’ anger and frustration briefly ebbed away as she laid eyes on the handsome officer standing before her. “And who’s this Adonis?” she purred.

Oh, give me strength. The last thing I need is her undressing my colleague with her eyes. “DS Elmhurst is going to help take a statement from you, Mrs Maddocks,” she replied, looking around at the suite and the life of luxury the author’s books had brought her. Sometimes, I feel like I’m in the wrong job.

Remembering why she’d called them there, she retreated to the pile of opened letters lying on her bed, picked one up, and thrust it into their hands. “Here,” she explained. “I had this come through this morning.”

Liv took the letter and summarized its contents. There was a nice flourish to it, and a sense of poetry that made Liv briefly forget the letter was written by a crazed lunatic. Then she came to the offending part… which looked alarmingly familiar.

“Wait a minute, I’ve read something like this before,” she said slowly, trying not to look embarrassed at the recollection. “Wasn’t this in one of your books?”

“Yes.” Ms Maddocks replied, looking pleased with having a possible fan in the room. “It was in Chapter 32 of Violet Desire.” As if on cue, she walked over to a large overnight bag in the corner and pulled out a book, leaving Liv wondering whether the entire act was staged. “It’s a line that was taken from my protagonist when he’s pursuing his lover.”

“Was your character a stalker as well, Ms Maddocks?” Archie asked, trying to make the connection between the book and the potential attack on the erotic author.

“Yes,” Eleanor nodded, unsure what he was getting at. “The whole plot revolves around him pursuing her until he wears her down and makes her realise she’s the only one for him.”

“And this is supposed to be a romantic novel?” Archie asked dubiously.

“Believe it or not, DS Elmhurst, there are some women who like being pursued,” she replied, enjoying his discomfort.

Archie was about to ask whether she enjoyed being pursued but decided against it.

“Are you sure this message is intended as a threat?” Liv asked, almost hoping there was an active threat given she’d been dragged out of the office and away from other potential cases for the sake of being bombarded by the famed author’s ego.

“Read on,” the author insisted, and Liv saw the threats become much more explicit, as its writer talked about knowing ‘his beloved’s’ every move, knowing what she did and where she went, and knowing the loneliness she felt. He knew that no man would ever be able to fulfil her desires the way he could, and one day, he’d be ready to escort her to a place where he could look after and no one would ever disturb them again.

“Okay, I see why this would be creepy,” Liv said, finding it ironic that at some point, Ms Maddocks would have found an arousing context for something like this. “I don’t suppose you can think of anybody who would take this so far?”

“Inspector, I’ve had several people reach out to me over the years, and many of them haven’t held back on what they wanted to do with me. I won’t deny, I was flattered by the attention.” She seemed to enjoy being the centre of male attention.

“Well, before we spread the suspect pool to half of your target audience, maybe we should look at people who are likely to be in Newquay,” Liv suggested. “Who else knows about you visiting the area?”

“It was pretty heavily publicized,” Ms Maddocks admitted with a little embarrassment. “I’d hoped to meet a few fans and maybe…” She gestured to the large bed. “Bring a few admirers back here.”

Liv was wondering whether it would have been better to let someone else handle the case. Where’s Nikki when you need her?

“Well, we’re going to speak to members of the staff at the hotel for a start,” Liv explained. “If we could have the letter, we will check it for fingerprints to see who might have handled it before it got to your door, then maybe we can find out who’s been following you. We’re also going to need an itinerary of all the places you’d planned to visit while down in Newquay.”

“Well, there’s an art gallery that I was due to be visiting,” Ms Maddocks explained. “I commissioned a local artist to adapt some paintings from my books. Jenny Gallagher. Quite a talented painter. Young, but full of promise. She needed a leg up, so I was happy to commission her. I was due to visit her gallery later today for an unveiling of the Maddocks exhibit. People are going to be queuing up around the block for when I turn up.”

Liv avoided rolling her eyes. “Well, I think it’s best to cancel the event.”

“You’re kidding me?” the woman asked indignantly. “I’ve been bigging this up for months. I’ve made a fortune on the tickets alone. Do you expect me to turn them all away?”

“Yes,” Archie replied bluntly. “Despite the flowery wording, this man has made a very clear threat to your life. We don’t know how far he will go to act on it, but we can’t take the risk of this letter being all talk. And a public venue puts so many others at risk. Do you really think your fans will thank you for that?”

Liv smiled. Archie had learned quickly how to use the author’s vanity against her.

“Fine,” the woman decided through gritted teeth. “If that’s what it takes.”

They spent the next hour interviewing all members of the hotel staff, trying to work out who was responsible for the mail and who might have interacted with Eleanor Maddocks directly. So far, there was no one they could point the finger at.

But so far, the vibe that they’d got from the staff was that far from being starstruck by the celebrity, their support was obligatory at best. In fact, many people found her to be insufferable and full of herself. “Since she’s not endeared herself to the hotel staff, do you think they might have decided to send her a message?”

“I would suggest you can hate someone without threatening them,” Liv noted. “And you’ve seen how rich she is. Do you think anyone here is going to risk their job and a possible lawsuit just to wind her up?”

“Even if we do get fingerprints from the hotel staff,” Archie suggested. “There’s no guarantee they had any connection to her.”

Liv looked over the itinerary that the romantic author had provided them. Before she could look any further, her phone rang. “DI Austin.” She paused, her face changing. “You’re kidding me? Okay, we’ll get over there right away.” She hung up the phone. “The gallery Eleanor Maddocks was supposed to be visiting today? It’s been broken into. The owner’s been assaulted.”

3

“I’ve been here a few times before,” Archie said as he looked up at the gallery. He gazed in sadness at the smashed windows outside and artwork missing from the frames. His face twisted in anger. “I just don’t get why someone would do this. I’ve met the owner once or twice. She’s an up-and-coming artist. She hasn’t got any van Goghs in there.”

“Given the timing of Eleanor Maddocks’ stalker, I’m pretty sure we’re looking at a similar case,” Liv said as they stepped over the glass and inside.

There were several posters around the place, and looking at the modest decor, Liv got the impression that this wasn’t exactly the Tate Modern and had most likely been dolled up for the fleeting celebrity.

They stepped inside where they could see a woman in her early thirties with strawberry blonde hair sitting in a corner in between two uniformed officers, PC Diana Hershel and PC Nick Hartman. Liv had known PC Hershel for many years now and counted the young woman among her closest friends. PC Hartman was a new recruit, and he was still trying to measure up. He seemed dedicated enough.

The woman shifted a pair of glasses up her nose. She was wearing a sleeveless red top and a green skirt. She looked hunched over, not displaying any of the arrogance Liv had already seen with Eleanor Maddocks. It was only as they drew closer that Liv could make out the cut on the woman’s forehead and bruising on her arms.

“How is she?” Liv asked PC Hartman, secretly testing his ability to pick things up.

“She is in shock a little,” he replied, looking solemn. “She actually came in here as they were making off with some of the paintings. She tried to stop them, and they knocked her down on the way out. She refused to let them past.”

“Not sure if that’s the best move,” Liv replied. She was used to lecturing victims of theft that the best course of action was to let the thieves make off with the items. It wasn’t worth the risk of getting killed.

Nick seemed to pick up on the inspector’s point. “She poured her heart and soul into this place. It was practically her life’s work. Wouldn’t you defend that to your last breath?”

“Probably best if you don’t let her hear that,” Archie noted, looking over at the gallery owner. “Did they take anything else?”

“Just the paintings,” Nick replied. “She actually did the artwork herself.”

“What kind of injuries are we looking at?” Liv asked, having spotted the ambulance on her way in.

“A few bruises on the arm where she was manhandled, and when they had her on the ground one of them kicked her in the head,” he outlined, his face twisting in disgust. “Other than that, she seems to be all right. I think she’s mostly in shock.”

“Do you think she might be up to giving a statement?” Archie asked.

“I should think so,” he replied uncertainly. “She seems lucid, more or less.”

“We’re going to need a bit more than ‘more or less’” Liv concluded, walking past the PC and walking over to the woman.

“Her name’s Susan Wheeler,” she explained, trying to be helpful. “Has been renting the space out for four years now.”

“Thank you, PC Hershel,” Liv said, looking down at the woman. “Ms Wheeler, my name is DI Austin, and this is…”

“Oh, hello,” Susan said, her face brightening at the sight of Archie. “I think I’ve seen you here a few times before, but I didn’t get your name.”

“Yes, indeed,” Archie said, looking a little bashful. “We’ve had a few chats. I’m Archie… I mean, DS Elmhurst.” He fumbled with his ID card.

Liv wasn’t sure what was happening with her normally strait-laced, professionally mannered sergeant, but it was giving her good vibes.

“I’m really sorry that this happened to you,” he said sincerely. “Some people have no shame. Do you need to go to the hospital? There’s a lot of glass around here.”

“I can assure you I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, masking her true feelings. “Nothing I won’t recover from.” She looked around the gallery. “This place…”

“Do you have any insurance that you can fall back on?” Archie asked, and Liv wondered whether his interest teetered away from the professional.

“Not for the paintings that were stolen,” she replied morosely, pulling her arms tighter around herself. “They were supposed to go live today.”

“And what were the paintings that were taken?” Liv asked, wanting to rule out the possibility that this was a random burglary.

“They were all visuals adapted from scenes from Eleanor Maddocks’ work,” Susan told them. “She reached out to me and told me how much she enjoyed my work and offered me some money to provide some paintings for her. She said that it would kickstart my career and get me some attention.”

“I didn’t realise you were a painter,” Archie noted kindly.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to be an artist ever since I was a child,” Susan replied, sitting up straight as though talking about her passion rejuvenated her. “But I was never sure if I was going to make it, so I thought it would be better if I just kept quiet about it. I thought I was going to be more open about it moving forward.” She hung her head at the thought of her broken dream.

“There’s no reason why you can’t keep going,” Archie offered, sitting next to her. “This is just a minor setback. I’m sure you deserve to be seen in your own stead rather than living in Eleanor Maddocks’ shadow.”

“Thank you, DS Elmhurst,” Liv interrupted in a curt manner that said ‘reign it in.’ “I don’t suppose you got a good look at the burglars?”

“They were both men,” Susan replied, a tremor in her voice. “Big and burly. Both wore balaclavas, so I couldn’t pick up on any features.”

“That’s a shame,” Liv replied, lamenting that she didn’t get enough stupid criminals. “Did they say anything, any accents?”

“The only thing they said to me was ‘get the fuck out of the way.’”

“Not exactly the soul of a poet,” Archie exclaimed sardonically, leaving Liv wondering whether the men who burgled the gallery could be the same people who wrote the poetic letter to Eleanor Maddocks. But that was an issue for later.

“PC Hershel, I want you and PC Hartman to start doing door-to-door and see if anybody spotted anything, like a vehicle,” she instructed. “I can’t see them getting away on foot. Not with the paintings.”

“Yes, boss.” They both nodded, leaving her to it. Olivia turned her attention back to the artist. “How much correspondence did you have with Ms Maddocks?”

“Not a lot,” she replied. “Well, a fair bit because we were working together, but it was all mainly through email. We haven’t even met in person yet. That was supposed to be today when the paintings were unveiled.”

“But she saw them?” Liv asked. “And I’m assuming she approved.”

“Very much so,” Susan answered glumly, looking as though all her work was going down the drain. “Three months I spent working on those seven paintings.”

“And I’m assuming they’re the only copies?” Archie added. “Because chances are, if they’re going to try shopping them to an art dealer, that will narrow it down.”

Liv was weighing up whether to confide in the woman about the threat Eleanor Maddocks had received. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any threats in the days leading up to the event? Threatening messages or anything like that?”

“No, none that I can think of,” Susan replied. “I know that this kind of event does attract the occasional weirdos, but we didn’t think anyone would try anything like this.”

“So, how did they come across you?” Archie asked, smiling the sincere smile that made people want to open up to him so that he could assure them everything would be all right.

“I came in this morning for a routine check, just to make sure there were no last-minute hurdles. And then I saw them taking the paintings out of the storeroom. And… and this is me being really stupid. I should have called the police, but I thought I could handle it myself. They overpowered me, and I thought they were going to kill me… And then they were gone. I still don’t know why they targeted those paintings specifically. There are several pieces of artwork here that would have netted them more money.”

4

“Thank you very much for answering our questions, Ms Wheeler,” Liv said, producing a card. “I suggest you get yourself checked out by a paramedic just to make sure there isn’t any other damage. We’ll be in touch if anything else comes up.”

“Thank you,” Susan said softly with a nod, though she was speaking to the sergeant as she spoke. She allowed herself to be escorted out of the building.

“So, what are we thinking?” Liv asked, turning to her colleague. “Isolated art robbery or connected to the stalking incident?”

“It’s got to be connected,” Archie surmised. “Look around you. They could have taken anything here and got much more value for cash as a result. But instead, they chose to go for seven paintings that hadn’t been unveiled to the public. Not only that, but they were kept in a storeroom out of the way. How would they know where to look?”

Liv nodded. “You don’t think it could have been an inside job, do you?”

“Absolutely not,” Archie retorted a little too quickly. “This day was supposed to be the making of her. She wouldn’t sabotage that just for the sake of making extra money. I’m pretty sure this is a crime of passion, not profit.”

Liv’s eyes widened. Even though she knew Archie was a very trusting individual, she didn’t expect him to be so quick to defend a potential suspect, especially when he barely knew her. “You seem fairly smitten with her, aren’t you?” she said coyly.

“Well, I’ve spoken with her a few times,” Archie said, looking a little embarrassed as his face went a faint red. “She’s very friendly, well-spoken, well-educated, and is a very scintillating conversationalist.”

“And you never thought to…” Liv let the implication hang in the air.

“I cannot do that,” Archie fired back. “She’s in a state of shock. She’s fretting over the state of her gallery. I can’t engage a woman when she’s dealing with trauma.”

“I meant after it’s sorted,” Liv suggested, though she appreciated Archie’s chivalrous streak, knowing that most men wouldn’t have the same consideration as him. “You never know, you crack this case, that’s a good way forward. First impressions are everything, and saving her business is a good way forward.”

“I haven’t really thought about that,” Archie said, sounding increasingly flustered. “If I’m being honest, I’d much rather focus on the case. I try not to let my personal feelings get in the way of an ongoing investigation.”

So, he’s admitting he has feelings. “You know, your voice becomes a lot more posh when you’re flustered?” she asked teasingly.

“I hadn’t noticed that,” he replied, looking away. “Look, she’s a nice person who doesn’t deserve this kind of injustice.”

“Okay,” she said, thinking she’d probably tease him later. “Now, I’m no expert in security, but I’m pretty sure that most galleries would have an alarm system.”

“Unless it’d been disabled beforehand,” Archie suggested. “We should have a look at the other members of staff on duty and find out if any of them are connected to Eleanor Maddocks.” He looked around the gallery in search of staff.

The only person on-site was the local technician Graham, an older man who looked like he was worn down from the lack of sleep.

“How long have you worked at the gallery, Mr Barnes?” Liv asked, knowing that prolonged employment could wear people down and make them resentful.

“Quite a while,” he replied. “I turned up to cover a job for somebody else and ended up staying eighteen years. I’ve seen this place change hands at least five times since I’ve been here.”

“And what is your relationship with Ms Wheeler?” Liv asked, wondering how far the man’s obligation ran to the changing management.

“She’s a bloody good boss,” he replied. “I was worried that she was going to be one of those arrogant types who get through college and then expect the world to be handed over to them on a silver platter. And I thought she was going to let me go. But she’s a good boss, always remembers details about you like your birthday, always there to bend an ear. I’d happily keep on working for her until I have to start collecting my pension.”

Liv looked at Archie as if to say, ‘That’s a great character endorsement.’ “So obviously, you know what happened here?”

“Kind of hard not to,” he responded, sitting on one of the benches. “And I tell you, I am furious. I wish I’d got here early this morning because I would have flattened those two shitheads. Her painting means a lot to her, and she’s genuinely good at it. When I first met her, she’d long since given up any thought on the idea of making it as a success. So, when the author came in and commissioned her to do these paintings, it was a lifeline. She thought she was going to be spending her whole career chaperoning other people’s art without being able to create her own. It was supposed to be her ticket to bigger things. Now that’s not going to happen now.”

“And what’s your opinion on Eleanor Maddocks?” Liv asked, looking him up and down as though trying to work out whether he was the kind of man who’d read erotica.

“To be honest, I never really cared for her work,” he replied with a shrug. “My wife’s a big fan of her books. And I joke that as long as she’s not thinking of replacing me with some boy toy, then I can’t complain. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Susan having those paintings as the things that give her a stepping stone, but I figured that if it got her to where she wanted to go, then who was I to judge?”

“So, you knew about her painting aspirations?” Archie asked.

“I was one of the few who knew,” Graham responded. “She felt very embarrassed about her work, like she couldn’t even talk to her own parents about it. So, I felt quite privileged that she trusted me enough to confide it all.”

Liv respected the protective streak he was showcasing, but she also felt a need to rule out any other possible motive against Susan Wheeler specifically. “Has Ms Wheeler ever had any trouble from anyone before? Someone who’s threatened the gallery?”

“Being honest, most of the guys around here don’t have the biggest eye for art,” he replied. “The most you get is a couple of kids hanging around outside. But even then, they’re harmless. We’ve never had anything like this happen before. I just hope she doesn’t get discouraged from it all.”

“She’s not received anything in the weeks leading up to the event?” Liv wasn’t sure if they’d need a warrant to search the premises.

“If she had, believe me, I would have known,” the technician answered protectively.

“Obviously, you hold Ms Wheeler in high esteem,” she noted, writing down a few comments like ‘supportive’ and ‘protective’ in her pocketbook. “Did any of the other employees feel the same way or were there some festering grudges?”

“I doubt it,” he answered, though she noticed he had to pause before responding. “I mean, I don’t know if they see her with any kind of reverence, but I don’t think they’d stab her in the back like that. I mean, the only reason they have a job is because of her. And to be honest, I don’t think any of them would know where to go for an art dealer.”

So that’s the only thing stopping them, then? Lack of resources?

“Okay,” she replied, figuring that she wasn’t going to get any more out of the man. “Thank you for your time, Mr Barnes. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything more to be discussed.” She turned and walked away. “It’s a good thing he’s not her dad, otherwise, I’d be telling you to watch yourself, Arch.”

“I’d prefer not to be looking at a potential witness as girlfriend material,” he replied, sounding a little flustered. “The way I see it, it’s either two separate crimes linked purely by coincidence, or it’s both crimes committed by the same perpetrator. Or—and this option might be really out there—there are multiple people out there working together trying to get at Ms Maddocks from different points. That’s the thing about fans. They come in clubs.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Liv muttered. “What happened to the days when fans just hid away in their bedrooms surrounded by memorabilia?”

“I think we’re past that point,” Archie observed. “That’s the problem with writing books about fantasies, especially erotic ones. Sooner or later, it’s not enough to think about it; YOU have to act on it. And we’ve seen how screwed up some of those fantasies are.”

5

Everything about the current situation seemed odd to Detective Inspector Dean Lawrence. Normally, he was off doing his own thing and seldom interacted with Liv’s team.

But lately, he’d been paired with the recently transferred Detective Constable Andrew Shaw, and the two had had a difficult history. Back when Dean had first been developing feelings for Liv, she’d been sleeping with Andrew when he was a PC. She’d always treated it as casual sex, but Andrew’s feelings for the inspector had blossomed over time. So, when Liv and Dean had finally got together, it’d grated Andrew to see them together.

But now, he’d got used to the idea and was sat next to Dean in the car on their way to a crime scene together. Dean found it quite paradoxical how things changed.

“So, have you both set a date for the wedding?” Andrew asked. His tone wasn’t passive-aggressive but inquisitive.

“Not as such, but we’re thinking of August as a possible date,” he replied. “I think we want to take our time so that we’ve got a few options on our hands, but frankly, we’ve been together for nearly three years now, and I think we’re at the point where we just want to get it done. I’m gagging to get a ring on her finger.”

“Well, I’m happy for you both,” Andrew said. While it was clear he still cared deeply for Liv, he respected that she was happy with Dean, and he wouldn’t mess that up for her. “Changing the subject to something less controversial—or maybe more, depending on your stance—what are your thoughts on the mystery baby daddy?”

“Well, I don’t know, to be honest,” he replied, trying to be as neutral as possible. “I’ve worked with some of those officers for years. They’re like brothers to me, and I know none of them would be stupid enough to sleep with a witness in protective custody.”

“Cheers, by the way,” Andrew remarked and as the inspector looked confused, he added, “For not asking whether I did the deed.”

“Well, I know you wouldn’t do anything like that to…” Dean paused, looking uncomfortable, remembering that Andrew was still on a break from his girlfriend, Dr Helen Pike. “How are things with Helen?”

“We’ve not really spoken to each other,” he replied. “I was hoping that the distance might make us remember what it was that made us fall in love in the first place, but instead… I barely notice it. I just feel like that spark that we had between us has gone out.”

Dean sighed. “That’s just the way a lot of relationships go, mate. It doesn’t always have to be some great big calamity that would put most soap operas to shame. Sometimes, people drift apart. And you could spend all your time trying to make it work, but sometimes, you’re better off alone than trying to force it with the wrong person.”

“Well, I hope you never have that issue with Liv,” Andrew said heartfully.

Dean was sure there weren’t going to be any more obstacles to his and Liv’s relationship. They’d both been tested on numerous occasions and confronted their own demons, and hopefully, nothing or no one was going to stop them from being together.

They pulled up in front of a house and walked up the overgrown garden path which looked like it hadn’t been trimmed for a long time, looking less like a front more and more like a miniature jungle.

“Apparently, a dead body was reported in here by one of the neighbours,” Dean said as the front door opened and a forensic officer stepped out. As soon as the door was ajar, a foul stench flooded out, hitting the detectives in the face. “Oh, Christ,” Dean muttered, covering his mouth and feeling like he was going to throw up.

“Yeah,” the FO noted sympathetically. “Apparently, he’s been dead for some time. I’d say, just over a week, give or take.”

“And nobody noticed anything?” Andrew asked, overwhelmed by the stench of death.

“Apparently, the guy was a shut-in,” the officer replied. “Barely left his house other than for the weekly shop. People were lucky if they glimpsed him once a week. It was only when a neighbour noticed the smell that they started complaining.”

“We okay to go in and have a look?” Andrew asked, looking about for a fibre suit.

“Yeah, but I should warn you, it’s not a pretty sight,” the FO warned.

Once the two were suited and booted, they walked through the house, which felt less like a home and more like a time capsule. The wallpaper was grimy and peeling off the walls, and the floor looked like it hadn’t seen a decent hoover for a while. In the kitchen, dirty dishes were piled high in a tower of unclean cutlery, and the waste bin was overflowing with takeaway boxes. Everything suggested a man who lived a lonely lifestyle… so lonely that nobody would notice when he was dead. The inspector felt a pang of sympathy before he decided to put a face and name to the victim.

He walked into the living room where the victim was lying on the sofa. It was a man in his early forties, a little overweight and wearing sweatpants, his t-shirt marked with greasy food stains.

But the feature that made the pair almost reel back was the large hole in his head. Half of his skull had been caved in, and his eye was nearly hanging out of its socket.

Dean looked around, trying to think of a possible weapon before his eyes fell on a set of golf clubs that clearly hadn’t been used for some time, dust gathering around the base.

Andrew peered at the hole in the man’s head. “I’m guessing a golf club?”

“Chances are the killer took it with him. Not stupid enough to leave it here.” He looked around the house. “I’m not sure what was supposed to have happened here. It doesn’t look like anything was stolen.” He was hard-pressed to think of anything worth stealing. “Have a look around the house, see if any money was stolen.”

Andrew nodded and went upstairs. He was starting to wonder if it’d been better off for him to stick to the local drunks. At least the motive was obvious. Kids just wanted to get pissed. But this? Bothering a guy who’d never done anything to anyone?

He walked up to the man’s bedroom, hesitating with each ascending step. If the living room and kitchen were an indicator of how the man was living, he dreaded to imagine what the man’s bedroom looked like.

As expected, it was in a state of complete disarray. But Andrew wasn’t looking at the bedsheets or the dirty clothes. There was something else piled high in the corner that made his eyes bulge out of his head.

“Guv!” Andrew called downstairs, not taking his eyes off that pile. “What was that case that Liv was working on?”

“Why do you ask?” Dean called from downstairs.

“I think you should get up here and take a look at this.”

A minute later, Dean joined him in the bedroom and gulped at the sight before him. “I think we’d better get DI Austin here now.”

The more he looked at the pile, the more he was convinced that he and his fiancé were working the same case.

Liv pulled up outside the house along with Archie. Though DC Shaw had given a hurried rundown of what they’d found, she still wanted to see things for herself to digest it.

She quickly pulled on a fibre suit and walked up the stairs to glimpse the discovery.

“I am hoping it’s not as bad as you made out…” But she knew she’d be eating her own words as she glimpsed the sight of the pile of paperbacks, hardcovers, and numerous editions piled up like a literary Jenga tower. All written by Eleanor Maddocks.

“So, I’m guessing our John Doe was a Maddocks obsessive?” Andrew suggested, as a pair of forensic officers moved to remove one of the books but then decided against it.

“I’m… still trying to work out how he might be the target audience,” Liv noted, turning to Dean, happy to get a bit more time with him but wishing it were under better circumstances. “Have we got any information on our victim?”

“Got a few things,” Dean noted, holding up a passport. “Scott Ellis. Forty-two years old. Found an old hazmat suit and a hard hat in the wardrobe, so I’m guessing his job must have been something physical. I had a look through his mail, and I’ve found a few receipts for disability benefits. Be interesting to see if this guy has a criminal record.”

“I also want this place checked over for any signs of handwriting,” she commanded. “Anything that you can compare with the letter that Eleanor Maddocks received. See if you can draft in a handwriting expert.”

6

Eleanor Maddocks was relaxing in her suite with a gin and tonic. Whatever anxiety she’d felt earlier that day had since ebbed away.

Liv and Archie re-entered the room, having left Dean and Andrew the job of looking over the dead man.

“Did you have any luck finding my stalker?” she asked haughtily. “I was hoping to catch a bit of that Newquay air.” She ran her hand through her hair, and Liv could imagine her walking melodramatically along the beach in the gentle breeze.

“Well, there have been a few developments,” Liv suggested in a noncommittal tone. “We understand you had an agreement with Susan Wheeler to showcase some paintings at her local gallery.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, it was going to be a chance to transport my work into a more visual medium. Why?”

“The gallery was broken into this morning while Ms Wheeler was getting ready to set up for the day,” Liv laid out. “The paintings that you’d commissioned have all been stolen. We’re trying to trace them down, but so far, no luck.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eleanor muttered, clearly in shock but stifling it with the remains of the drink. “I paid three and a half grand for those paintings. Complete waste of money.”

“Ms Wheeler herself is fine, in case you were interested,” Archie added, his tone acidic. “She was injured in the robbery but otherwise unharmed.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Ms Maddacks quickly stuttered, as though somebody had just flicked on an empathy switch. “Really sad for her. Hope she makes a quick recovery.”

“Well, like I said, we’re looking to track down the paintings and we’re making enquiries regarding your letter this morning.” She took out a photo of Scott Ellis, taken from a passport photo they’d found lying around. “Do you recognise this man?”

She fully expected her to quickly deny it, as though the idea that she would ever mix in such a social circle was outrageous.

But instead, she replied with, “Yeah, I’ve seen him before. About eight months ago.”

Liv and Archie were instantly alert. “You have? When?” she demanded.

“I was doing a book tour in Devon for my latest book and this guy came up to me. He seemed very shy but sweet. I felt sorry for him to be honest. I knew just from looking at him that he wasn’t going to get his shot at homecoming king. So, I gave him a free autographed copy.

“Later on, I noticed that he was following me back to my hotel room. At first, I thought he was going in the same direction as me. And then then next thing I know, he’s quoting all these phrases from my books, throwing them all together like he was trying to be clever. And I was starting to get pissed off with him at that point, but then he got really close to me and he tried to kiss me, but I shoved him away. The next thing I knew, security was all over him and he was being taken away. That was the last time I saw him after that.”

Liv nodded, taking in all the details. “I see. And what happened then?”

“Well, I didn’t want to disappoint all the fans who’d come out to see me, so I bottled it up.” She sighed, showing vulnerability for the first time. “It just frustrates me that I put my best work out there, I create something that is to be enjoyed, and yet, there are some people who think that because I’m a public figure and I put saucy material out there, they have a right to harass me and invade my privacy. Am I asking for too fucking much?”

Liv was taken aback by the fire she was showing, and there was a part of her that was wondering whether she should have been showing it earlier when they first confronted her about the letter.

“Well, I can assure you, we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Liv insisted. “And we’ll update you when we have more information.”

“Does this mean I can come out of here?” Eleanor asked. “The service in here is atrocious, and it’s certainly not going to help my claustrophobia.”

“We’ll look into it,” the inspector replied noncommittally before leaving quickly.

“I’ve had a check with some of our contacts and informants,” DC Tim Harris noted once they were back in the office. “And none of them have reported any attempts to sell the seven missing paintings.”

“You don’t think it’s possible that maybe the burglars weren’t looking at selling the paintings for the sake of it?” Liv suggested, looking over the diagram they’d put together. She wanted to treat all the crimes that’d taken place that day as one single inquiry, but she was struggling to fit the pieces together. “Maybe they wanted the paintings for sentimental value. You know how fans like to collect the best pieces of their idols.”

“You’d think a guy like that wouldn’t know much about personal boundaries,” Tim noted. “That him harassing people would be a bit of a running gag. But I’ve looked through the database, and I haven’t seen anything related to him. Whatever obsessions he had, he clearly kept them close to his chest.”

“Obviously,” she muttered. “Where are we on the handwriting expert?”

“We’re looking through all the documents in the man’s house, and so far, we haven’t found anything that can be matched to the letter,” Tim noted. “I’ve just spoken to Sam, and she doesn’t have anything related to him being a suspect. Clara’s already looking through CCTV, trying to put him in the vicinity of the hotel. But given the altercation between him and Ms Maddocks a few years prior, I would have figured he wouldn’t have taken the direct approach. He would have preferred to have a messenger do the job for him.”

“Well, I showed his face to all of the staff and not one of them recognised him,” Liv explained. “I mean, no offence to the man, but I think in a place like that, he’d be sticking out like a sore thumb.”

She got up and looked over all the incidents. “So, we’ve got a poisonous love letter, we’ve got a robbery at the local gallery, and a man was found dead in his house with a load of books by an erotic author.”

“Do you also think we can pin Scott Ellis for the robbery?” Tim suggested. “As one of them, at least?”

Olivia winced at this. “See, I would have thought that at first. He’s the right bulk, that’s for sure. But we’ve seen that he’s on disability benefits for chronic pain. Dean found leg braces in the corridor, and Susan Wheeler didn’t report seeing anybody limping. It’s hard to imagine how far he could get without those.”

“I think we need to look at next of kin. See if he’s capable of anything like this,” Tim suggested, typing away at the computer.

“That’s going to be hard,” Liv observed, remembering the state of the house he was living in. “From what I saw, he doesn’t really have anybody else.” She turned to the board again, and her eyes were starting to hurt just looking at it. “Why do I get the feeling that every single one of these cases is going to be connected? Next thing you know, we’ll be lugging the baby in with everything else.”

“God, I hope not,” Tim muttered under his breath. “On that note, I’d avoid Collins for a while. I think he’s going to have a brain aneurysm at this rate. He’s going mad trying to find this copper.” He exhaled. “Whatever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty?’”

Liv was about to add to that, but then Archie came into the room. “Good news, Liv. Ms Wheeler’s been checked over and there’s no serious injuries.”

“So, she should be looking for someone to take her home,” Liv suggested. She looked to her friend, trying to find some good to come out of this whole mess. “Do you want to step into the role of glorified chauffeur?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Archie replied, looking flustered. “She could be quite vulnerable…”

“Archie, for God’s sake, mate, no one’s asking you to jump down her throat,” Tim chimed in. “You’re right, she is vulnerable. And she seems to trust you…”

“To be fair, I’ve known old ladies who are happy to pounce on Archie,” Liv added. “Look, just make sure she’s all right and see if she’s with anyone else. Assuming the gossip is true, I know I can at least trust you to keep it in your pants. Which as of right now, is the best character endorsement you can have.”

7

Archie sat in the car opposite Susan Wheeler, keeping his eyes on the road, trying to dodge the local traffic.

“Thank you again for this,” she said, wiping her eyes, which were still red from crying. “I keep on wondering if there’s something I’ve done in a past life to deserve this.”

“In my experience, deserve doesn’t usually have anything to do with it,” Archie muttered. “I’ve known plenty of people who are law-abiding citizens like yourself just minding their own business, trying to get by, and then there’s somebody else who will try and ruin it for you just because you happen to be in the way.”

“When I tried to stop one of them,” Susan said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, “he said to me that if I tried to stop him, he’d find out where I lived, and he’d get me.”

“Empty threats, for the most part,” Archie said, trying to reassure her.

She turned to him, sounding a little incredulous. “You sound very dismissive when it comes to death threats.”

“Probably because I get them two or three times a week,” he replied blankly, before quickly adding, “Often followed with expletives. So, you could say I’ve built up a tolerance from it all.”

Susan smiled, the first smile she’d had since the incident.

Archie had once been told by a superior officer that the best way to put people at ease was to remind them that there was a human being behind the uniform.

They pulled up outside the flat. Once the car stopped, the reality of the two of them being alone was starting to settle in. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move forward from all of this.”

Archie paused, knowing that people responded to trauma differently.

He tried to think of how to best approach the situation. He’d met with Susan on a few occasions beforehand, and they’d held fleeting but meaningful conversations about artwork. But contrary to what Liv and the rest of her team thought, he didn’t know her well enough to fall head over heels for her. Having said that, she was definitely a person he wanted to get to know more in the future.

And at that point, he was thinking about all the ways a harmful experience could hinder a person’s judgment and make them do things they normally wouldn’t dream of.

They sat there in silence, both clearly wanting to say more to each other but unsure how to proceed.

“Do you want to come in for a coffee?” she offered politely.

“That’d be nice,” he replied, going through all the regulations in his head like a self-inflicted klaxon and trying to make sure that he adhered to every single one of them.

They got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Walking behind her, he noticed she was shaking like the last leaf on a dying tree. He wasn’t sure whether that was just down to the cold or whether she was trying to push down her trauma.

They entered the flat, at which point she offered an apologetic, “You’ll have to excuse the clutter. I like to bring my work home with me.” And indeed, the house was filled with no end of painting utensils and rolls of paper.

“No worries at all,” he answered politely. “It’s nice to surround yourself with your passions.” Looking around it, he suddenly wondered whether his neat freak tendencies had been a good thing. He remembered Liv once coming around his place and commenting that it was quite sterile, but he could see the woman’s personality imprinted on everything around them.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked, popping her head around the door.

“Plenty of milk,” he replied, rubbing his face and hoping to stave off the sleep deprivation. He tried to remember that he was there to support, not anything else.

As she went into the kitchen, Archie couldn’t help but have a look around the place to get a portal into the woman’s brain. And indeed, it was a fascinating view. There was a painting of Newquay seaside, the melding of blues and white perfectly capturing the crashing waves of the beach. As Archie looked over it, he felt a growing sense of calm wash over him.

She came into the living room with two cups of coffee, handing him one.

“Thank you very much,” he responded, taking a sip. “Is there anyone that you can call about what’s happened? It’s not uncommon for people to have a strong support network around them in times like this.”

“Well…” She gave a lopsided smile. “I would like to ring my mum, but I’m pretty sure that the conversation is going to be filled with plenty of ‘I told you so’s.’ She was always on the fence regarding my artistic ambitions. She told me that I should go on to a proper job with stability and regular income, and she kept on bringing up van Gogh as an example, suggesting that I might die in poverty missing an ear.”

“She sounds like quite a character,” Archie noted, imagining her mother to be quite hard to please. “But I’m sure she just wants to know that you’re going to be all right. All parents want to make sure their children have some kind of stability going forward. And I think it’s safe to say with your profession, you’ve certainly managed to find some stability. Must be nice to be your own boss.”

“It has its perks,” she admitted. “But all I wanted was to be an artist. I don’t need to be world famous or sleeping on a bed of money—not that that wouldn’t hurt—but I would like to make enough to live life on my own terms.” Her face fell flat. “I’ve faced a fair few obstacles in getting my work out there, being told that it’s not mainstream enough.”

“Yes, it appears that in order to live the life of a creative, you have to be a constant social media presence,” the sergeant commented derisively.

“I won’t deny, when I accepted the commission to do some visual adaptations of Eleanor Maddocks’ work, I felt a bit like a sell-out,” she stated regretfully. “But I felt it was the only way I could get a foothold in the industry. So, when this happened…”

“That’s not the universe trying to tell you something,” Archie interrupted, quick to reassure her. “You want to live your dream. If we turned our back on our aspirations every time we hit a roadblock, we’d never get any joy out of life.”

“Is that how it is for you?” she asked. “I mean, I read the news. I know the kind of things you have to confront on a regular basis. I don’t know how you deal with it. You must be really zen.”

Archie laughed despite himself. “No, I’m constantly at risk of my stress levels going through the roof. And yes, there have been times when I’ve asked myself if I’m in the right job, whether I’d be better off doing a typical 9-to-5, clocking on, doing my shift, clocking off, and collecting my pay at the end of it all. But I’d hope that I’m making a difference with my work and that there are going to be a lot of people who are better off from what I’ve done. This job isn’t what I do. It’s who I am. I don’t know how to do anything else. And I imagine it’s the same for you.”

“So, what do you suggest I do moving forward?” she asked, her body starting to relax as the tension eased out of it.

“My sincere advice to you would be to take a bit of time for yourself. Not to give up, but to remind yourself why you got into the artistic gig in the first place. Sometimes, the reason why is the only thing keeping you in the game.” He wanted to turn the attention to something more positive, so he gazed at the seaside painting. “I mean, this is an absolutely stellar piece of work. The hues used speak a lot to tranquillity…” He was on autopilot, trying to think of something complimentary but risking getting himself tongue-tied.

“You know you sound like an art critic,” Susan noted warmly.

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment,” he joked, and the two shared a laugh. “But seriously, you’ve got a huge talent for it, and I think the world would certainly miss out on a woman of your talent.”

“I will bear that in mind,” she said, finishing the coffee and setting it down. “You know, if the police work doesn’t pan out, you could consider a career in motivational speaking.”

“I don’t believe in signs,” he replied. “But I do believe in tests. And every now and then, you do come across something that tests your resolve. Happens to me all the time— more than I feel comfortable admitting—but you don’t know how much you want something until you risk it being taken away.”

She nodded, absorbing every word. Archie felt an ease opening up inside him, and that pull to wrap it up and get away seemed to have vanished.

8

“Whoever came up with Valentine’s Day, would it have killed them to set it on a warmer day?” Liv complained as she rubbed her hands together.

She and Dean were walking along the beach, listening to the gentle lapping of water. Every now and then, she and Dean made a point of revisiting a lot of the haunts where their connection had been gradually built up, such as the first cafe where they met up for a coffee, the store they went to to pick out furniture together, and on the current occasion, the first place they’d taken Briggs for a walk. The dog was already making a show of running up to the edge of the water… only to back away when he realised it was too cold for him before repeating the process over and over.

Liv enjoyed moments like these. Her connection with Dean meant the world to her. He was her anchor, her everything. When she first came to Newquay, she’d been damaged by her experiences, convinced her ability to love and commit had long since eroded. But Dean had brought that lightness back into her life.

“We still good for August for the wedding?” Dean asked, his voice full of nerves. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m forcing you into a shotgun wedding.”

“Don’t worry, as long as you’re not asking me to get married in my pyjamas,” she joked. She’d spent perhaps a little too much time watching documentaries about bridezillas, costs, and family disputes, trying to make a mental note of all the things that could go wrong. It had backfired on her, and at that point, she was praying that she didn’t end up getting married in a tracksuit around the back of a farm. Dean enjoyed teasing her about her worried reaction.

“I don’t think you have to worry about any of that,” Dean joked. “My mum is very fond of you. The other day, she said you were ‘the daughter she never had.’ I’m not sure whether to feel jealous or not.”

Liv smiled at that. She’d been terrified at meeting Dean’s mother, knowing all too well how prospective partners often fell short in their in-law’s eyes. But since Marianna had come to stay with them, the two had developed a strong bond, helped by Liv supporting her when broaching her cancer diagnosis and subsequent remission to her son.

“I think it will be a very special day,” Liv commented, having always imagined herself getting married and settling down with a family. The more she looked at her sister’s children, seeing how happy and exuberant they were and how much they added to Mills’ life, the more she wanted that for herself, the chance to nurture a young life. Of all the siblings in her family, Olivia was the only one who hadn’t had any children. When she first started working as a police officer, she’d seen how difficult it was for some detectives to balance a career and parenthood, and she’d been terrified that she’d been too worn down by trauma to be the mother her children would need. But so much healing had been done since then, both in the head and in the heart, and more and more, she was getting used to the idea of it.

“Let’s hope that the day goes off without a hitch,” Dean wished aloud, knowing all too well how work had got in the way and interrupted their lives. “With our luck, we’ll be dealing with an armada turning up at the event because life always seems to be conspiring to fuck us over… not that we’ve ever let that stop us.”

“It has…” she said, leaning over and sharing a longer tender kiss with him. “It won’t.”

Eleanor Maddocks tried not to let the fear show in her face.

She’d put on a facade all her life.

She looked at a picture of herself at eighteen years old—glasses, untidy brown hair, and an overly wide smile. That had been before she realised what people had wanted.

As she’d grown older, she found that she’d gained a skill in seeing to the heart of people’s desires and trying to shape herself to their needs. And that could be a creature of allure or a passionate romantic. Whatever people—especially men—needed her to be, she’d adapted accordingly.

And that’d been the same for her writing career.

She’d spent a long time trying to work out what she wanted to be. She knew that people didn’t want an idealised romance with an Adonis, a term she’d referred back to many times throughout her work and had thought of as a trademark of hers. They wanted something that took them out of reality, something raunchy that excited the body as well as the soul. And she had certainly reaped the benefits from it.

She now had enough money to live the life she’d always wanted, and she’d done it by herself. She was glad that she didn’t follow her mother’s example of making her living on her back. She liked to think she’d chosen her path with more dignity.

She knew that there were plenty of people who would want to tear her down, and she wasn't too surprised. She was a household name after all. And she'd done what she could to dig herself out of a messy situation. There'd been plenty of people trying to ride her coattails, hoping she’d take them with her, but she'd done away with any hangers-on.

She tried to think about who could be targeting her. She knew she wasn't the easiest person to be around at the best of times, but the idea that somebody would want to destroy her… Maybe if she'd been a bit kinder to the people in her life.

No. This was on them. They wanted what she had and would go far to get it, but as long as she stayed in the room, nobody could get to her. It wasn't as if they knew where to find her.

He knew exactly which room she was staying in, though he didn’t have a clear view of her.

To the best of his knowledge, the suite didn’t offer much in the way of windows, but he could imagine her strutting around in her expensive heels, throwing her weight around with the staff, thinking of herself as the queen of her own little world. But that world was becoming more and more of a gilded cage. She knew that the moment she stepped outside the safety of the hotel, he'd be waiting for her. He had once told her that he'd always be there and she would never know a moment's rest when he was nearby.

Just thinking about her made his blood boil.

He’d been in a bookshop earlier that day. He didn’t know whether he went in there deliberately to find one of her works, but as soon as he laid eyes on the book Dance with the Diva, in which an up-and-coming dancer pursues a steamy romance with her instructor, he picked up the book off the shelf and flicked through the pages.

There was a particular passage he was looking for.

She enjoyed the hands moving down over her perfectly sculpted form, like a craftsman admiring their masterpiece. She’d spent so long doubting herself, but as she looked up at him, feeling his touch and responding to it, she could see herself in a different light. She felt valued, cherished.

“Just so you know,” he whispered into her ear, his breath radiating against her skin. “This is what it’s like to taste perfection.”

She felt her legs buckle against the endearment before quickly steadying herself.

But she needn’t have bothered. He was there to catch her. He would always be there to catch her.

Despite everything that’d happened, he couldn’t help smiling at that passage and the fond memories it brought flooding back to him. He remembered standing over her shoulder when that passage had been written, watching her mind whir as she generated desire and pleasure out of thin air. He felt like he could never leave her side, that he would do anything to be there for her and keep her in his life, but circumstances had forced them apart.

And now he was living a half-life, trying to get by with what little he had.

He couldn't take being away from her. He had to find a way to get her back.

But the cards seemed permanently stacked against him. He knew that the police would be watching, waiting for him to slip up.

And Eleanor would do everything she could to bring him down. She would give them no end of evidence against him.

But he had a trump card of his own to play.

He wondered how many people would have to die to get what he wanted.

9

Liv and Archie walked towards the pathologists’ office to attend the autopsy results on Scott Ellis. As they walked, Liv noticed a smile on her colleague's face that he was struggling to hide.

“I'm going to guess that you had a good night last night?” she asked. “Is Susan Wheeler responsible for this spring in your step?”

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re implying,” Archie insisted. “She may not be traumatised, but she is still in a vulnerable state. And if I were to try anything with her, I would prefer to do so when she is in a state of calm, when there isn’t anything influencing her decisions.”

Liv smiled. How he’s not been snatched up is some miracle. “You really are one of the good ones, Arch. I hope she knows that.”

“It wasn’t anything major last night,” he insisted. “It was just a case of comforting her, making sure she had everything she needed and letting her know it would be all right.”

“Well, for your sake, let’s hope we can get a result out of this case,” Liv said hopefully. “I’ve had Sam on the phone. No word on the letter. No fingerprints we can run through the database. Stalker’s far too smart for any of that. So, let’s hope the autopsy can tell us something new. Otherwise, we’re stuck.”

“Not much to report from the body,” Dr Elliot James explained, efficient as ever. “Cause of death was a blunt instrument to the head, severely fracturing the skull. No traces of drugs in his system, no bruises from a fight. If anything, it seems that someone broke into his house and ambushed him. Poor bugger didn’t even have a change to fight back. It’s cruel, really.”

Liv and Archie looked in as he walked around the body, making his analysis. “I would definitely say he wasn’t your man at the scene of the gallery burglary. That would require someone of much greater stamina than what he possessed. Having said that, I did discover traces of dried watercolours underneath his fingernails.”

“So, he would have come into contact with the paintings?” Liv asked, her heart racing.

“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s possible the assailant had traces of dried paint under their skin and that would explain how they got onto him. Other than that, I didn’t find anything else you could use. Sorry, guys.”

Liv’s next port of call was the CCTV. Clara Fitzroy had never failed to produce a solid result for them, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“I’ve got to say, I’d hoped to spend the lead-up to Valentine’s Day planning something romantic for Diana, not tracking down highbrow porn,” she snorted as she set to work at her workstation. “But I suppose there are worse ways.” She was running over the cameras surrounding the gallery. “I wasn’t able to find anything near the gallery, but I was able to pick up this.” She pulled up a security camera. “It’s near an industrial site on the other side of Newquay.” The image depicted two men getting out of a car, opening up the boot, and pulling out the paintings. The images were far too obscure to make out any positive IDs. “Now, I’ve done a double-check, and the car has not moved its position since yesterday. Which suggests that the burglars are still there.”

“Well, I guess that’s something,” Liv mused. She turned to Archie standing next to her. “They’ve clearly got the paintings stashed in that area. Just because they’re hiding them there now doesn’t mean they’re still going to stay there. We’re operating on a ticking clock.”

“So, why not go down there and arrest them?” Archie suggested. “We can recover the paintings and get them back to Ms Wheeler.”

Liv could see how infatuation was starting to seep into the sergeant’s head. “Arch, I know you want to give her that closure. But if we recover just the paintings, then we’ve got two thieves and possible murderers who are going to get away scot-free and can do this at any other time they please. I’d prefer to catch them red-handed.” Noting her partner’s discomfort, she added, “And besides, it’s not as if they can sell the paintings. They’re the only editions and have been red flagged in the system.”

Just then, her phone started ringing. She pulled out of the cramped workstation. “DI Austin?” She rolled her eyes, instantly cluing Archie and Clara in on who the call concerned. “I see. Tell her we’ll be there within the next hour.”

“I received another letter,” Eleanor started. Liv noted that she seemed less frightened and angrier. I suppose I can use that. She handed Liv the latest letter. It contained quotes from novels that Liv was far too embarrassed to say she recognised along with a note printed in capitals. I’M GOING TO BLOW YOUR PERFECT WORLD APART UNLESS YOU GIVE ME WHAT I WANT.

“So, what does he want?” Archie asked, taking the letter in his gloved hands and reading it for himself.

“I don’t know!” she snapped suddenly. “I don’t make a point of peering into these fuckers’ headspaces. That’s more your job, not mine!”

She threw the glass in her hands to the ground. “How is it you haven’t found this guy? You’re detectives, aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”

Liv was starting to feel irate at having her competence questioned by a smut writer. “Ms Maddocks,” she said slowly, choosing each word carefully in measured tones, “we have examined all the evidence put before us, and we’ve tried to make the necessary connections, but so far, no suspects. We’ve already had a look at Scott Ellis…”

“Oh, for fucks’ sake, it’s clearly not Ellis!” she screeched like a banshee. “He’s not smart enough to pull off something like this! He’s just a pathetic lowlife holding out for a fantasy world in which someone might want him!”

Archie was taken aback by the harshness in her tone. “I won’t deny, I’m finding it harder and harder to see Mr Ellis as your stalker, especially if the letter was delivered after his death.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” she snapped. “Just when I think the situation can’t get any worse, I get this!” She thrust a second letter into their hands. I WANT A MEETING BETWEEN US BOTH. I’LL GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE TO COOPERATE AND IT WILL BE IN YOUR BEST INTEREST TO DO SO. YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LOSE. TODAY 3 PM.

Liv looked over the address, and based on her knowledge of Newquay geography, she knew it was within the vicinity of the area where the paintings would be stashed.

“I have to go and see him,” Eleanor insisted. “It’s the only way to put a stop to this.”

Liv and Archie had a look at each other. “Ms Maddocks, I don’t think…”

“If this guy wants me, then maybe we can come to an agreement.” She walked over to the wardrobe and pulled on a coat. “I want to put this nightmare behind me, and I want you two to back me up, do you understand? I know him; I know how he thinks. It won’t stop.”

Liv tried not to fire back with ‘you’re not my boss, you arrogant bitch’. Instead, she said, “Eleanor, we can’t sanction an operation like that. Even if we did set up a meeting between you two, there’s no guarantee about how far this guy will go. We cannot guarantee your protection.” Liv was normally against schemes that put civilians in harm’s way, and even though she was tempted to make an exception for Eleanor Maddocks given how unlikable the woman was, she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

“This guy clearly wants me,” Eleanor insisted, and Liv wondered whether this was the vanity talking again. Does she really believe she’s that important? “You realise he’s not going to stop, don’t you? What are you going to do when another body turns up?”

Either the woman was showing there was a heart deep down somewhere inside her, or she knew exactly what to say to the detectives to get them to dance to her tune.

“We’ve got to clear it with a few people first,” Liv noted, taking Archie to one side. “I don’t know if I like this, Arch. This guy is too unpredictable.”

“She’s more than willing to take the risk,” Archie noted before looking back in Eleanor’s direction. “And there’s something about this that doesn’t feel right. I want to talk outside.” He nodded to the author and gestured for Liv to follow him outside. Once they’d walked down the hotel corridor, he said, “I don’t think we’re getting the full story from her.”

10

“You think she’s lying?” Liv asked. “About what?” While Archie’s instincts were normally good, she couldn’t help wondering if he was letting his personal feelings do the thinking for him. Maybe Susan’s not that good an influence, after all.

“I don’t know,” Archie muttered, waving his arms around. “But you’ve got to admit that for a guy who is probably one of thousands of creepy fans, she’s able to predict exactly what he wants. I can’t help wondering if he’s not so anonymous to her after all. Maybe he’s somebody she knew personally. Remember what she said just now? ‘I know him. I know how he thinks. It won’t stop.’ Now, I’m not one to get pedantic over language, but does that sound like the kind of tone you’d use for a faceless pain in the backside?”

Liv tried to remember what she’d heard, playing it over and over in her head.

“Then why not just tell us that?” Liv asked. She knew it was not like Archie to make wild guesses. “Why not just tell us who is targeting her so that we can go and arrest them?”

“I’ve been wondering that one myself,” he noted, sounding one step ahead. “Maybe she’s worried about something coming out. You read that letter. You saw the shock.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone would be shocked at a threatening letter,” Liv retorted, having dealt with her own fair share of stalkers.

“No, it’s not that,” he replied, shaking her head. “She’s built up a good life for herself. Successful series of books, a household name. She could never write another word for as long as she lived, and yet she’d never have to worry about money again. People who enjoy that kind of lifestyle will go to any length to protect it. Now, why would she risk that by going out after a stalker to confront him directly if she wasn’t being threatened with something she felt was worse. To the point where she’s willing to put herself on the line to catch him. And don’t pretend she’s doing this because she’s got a heart of gold or because she’s trying to protect people. You and I both know that she couldn’t give a damn about Susan Wheeler. The only person that woman cares about is herself.”

Liv sighed. “I want to take this all on board, Archie. I really do. And you’ve raised some really good points. This sudden bout of martyrdom… it’s suspicious but hardly conclusive. Nothing to back it up.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Archie asked, folding his arms. “It’s clear she’s not in a forthcoming mood, and like you said, we can’t press her without anything to back it up. She seems dead set on going to that meeting. I’d bet money that if we didn’t take her, she’d go of her own volition.”

Liv sighed, not liking the position she was being put in.

“I’ve always trusted your judgment, Liv. I need you to trust mine.”

“Well, before we do anything, I need to run it through the gaffer,” she muttered, not looking forward to the conversation.

“This is bad,” Collins muttered, tapping his hands on the desk. “This is very bad.” He looked down at the desk, directly avoiding Liv’s eyes.

“I hate to admit it, sir, but we’ve got an ongoing risk to the public we have to consider. If there’s a chance we can get this guy, we can prevent any more casualties.”

“You do understand that this woman can easily turn it around on us?” Collins asked. “Let’s say she agrees to the meeting, and whatever happens, she decides to turn it around on us and say that we strong-armed her into it. She could sue us into the ground. And believe me, she’s got the money to do it.”

“That’s quite the leap, sir,” Liv responded, knowing that Collins was becoming increasingly paranoid of worst-case scenarios. “To go from requesting her involvement to shifting the blame on us…”

“DI Austin, she makes up stories for a living,” the superintendent insisted. “You think it’s going to take much to convince people we put her up to it? I don’t fancy going hand in hand with a woman who could buy this entire station and turn it into her personal spa.”

“Then what else can we do?” Liv asked. “We have no other suspects, no evidence. We could do a search around the area where the thieves were last seen, but we probably couldn’t do that without alerting them to our presence, and then we risk losing them forever. Now, if you believe that we have more to gain from keeping her holed up in that hotel room even longer, then please suggest a better course of action because I’m coming up short.”

Collins went silent. She would have thought that as he got older the hard decisions would get easier to make, but it seemed to be the opposite.

“All right,” he responded. “But I want her sticking to you like glue. The moment she steps outside that hotel, you don’t leave her sight, not for anything. The moment it looks like she’s in danger, you stash her away. Our priority at the end of the day is preservation of life.”

“Understood, sir,” she responded, secretly knowing she could only promise so much.

“And another thing,” he added. “I want some ironclad proof that she is consenting to this operation of her own volition and that we have not in any way coerced her into it. Whether that’s a recorded message or a signed document, I want ironclad proof that she is doing this because she wants to. And keep the press away. It’s one thing using a civilian in a sting operation, but celebrity involvement is something that the tabloids will gladly snatch up.”

“I understand completely, sir,” she responded, secretly wondering how she was supposed to fulfil all those requests. No pressure there, at all.

He was standing outside the hotel watching as they were getting ready to bring her out. He’d seen them moving in and out of the hotel over the past few hours.

By now, she would have got his messages, and she would have known that there was no other option open to her. She’d have to play ball.

He’d planned this out meticulously. He knew that she wouldn’t have stayed in the hotel. She was far too self-absorbed for that. She would have gone out especially if it meant saving her own skin.

He was so eager to catch her that a part of him wanted to pounce on her then and there, but there were far too many police about. It was too much of a risk. They could easily take him into custody. And then all would be lost for them both.

He had to get her on her own. He had to get her to give him indisputable proof.

He watched as she moved through the hotel doors, still flaunting that swagger of superiority, as though the world owed her a favour. God, it made him feel nauseous.

He couldn’t believe that he’d ever once been in love with her. How could he have been so blind? She wasn’t going to change; it was always going to be the same. Always manipulating people, always taking what didn’t belong to her.

In a way, he was angry that he hadn’t done this sooner. He’d wasted the past ten months trying to find something he could use, trying to keep his distance from Eleanor Maddocks as much as possible, knowing if he got too close, she would catch him and easily shop him to the coppers, but he’d endured so many sleepless nights already thinking of the agony.

He found himself thinking of those prisoners who got themselves locked up in solitary confinement. The imposed isolation could be traumatic, but at least they would know when they were getting out. But what would it be like to never know when you were getting out of your own personal hell? The fear lay with him every night.

He couldn’t afford to mess this up. He’d chosen the destination carefully, knowing that the police wouldn’t be able to surround him or cut him off if he needed to make an escape. Sometimes, you can beat the odds with a careful choice of location.

He loaded himself into a car that he had rented shortly before he came to Newquay, nothing too conspicuous. As he came to a red light, he briefly opened the glove box and peered inside at the inventory. A gun and two switchblades. Once things got loud, he’d probably have a use for the gun, but for now, he had to play it quiet. Possibly nasty. Even though he needed Eleanor alive for the next part, he could imagine himself taking the knife, plunging it into her gut, and giving a little twist.

It brought a warm sensation to his heart, but he had to remind himself why he was doing all of this, and that gave him focus and made him keep his emotions in check.

He hoped that he wouldn’t have to use the knives on any of the coppers, but if it ever came to that… He prayed he didn’t have to find out.

11

Liv and Archie had concluded that there wasn’t a contract in the police service like the one Collins insisted they get Eleanor Maddocks to sign, not without making one up. Instead, the best thing they could do was to make sure that there were several AFOs present when she said that she was insistent on going ahead with the operation regardless of what the detectives had recommended. “I still think we should have made her swear on a Bible,” Archie muttered under his breath.

“I think she’s more into the idea of being God rather than worshipping God,” Liv responded, keeping her voice low so that she didn’t hear them. “We’ve got witnesses, and with any luck, if we catch the suspect we won’t need to go in for all this cloak-and-dagger shit.”

They drove towards the street, looking around for any civilians. Liv knew the area to be one of the more sparsely populated areas of Newquay, so they likely didn’t have to worry about anyone getting caught up in the carnage.

Once they’d almost reached their destination, a mobile started ringing out. It was a few moments before they realised it was Eleanor’s phone. “Sorry,” she muttered sheepishly. “The life of a starlet never ends.”

Is she seriously checking her phone in the middle of a sting operation?

She took a glance at the number, and her face darkened. Not that it stopped her from answering the phone. “Hello? No, I’m almost there now. Look, I’m sure we can sort it out. Okay, I’ll head into the building.” She hung up the phone. “That was my stalker.”

“What!?” Liv exclaimed, prompting looks from the other officers. “And you didn’t think it might be an idea to tell us that you have his number in your phone?”

“I’ve given out my number a fair few times to fans,” she replied nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. “Chances are I’ve already met him.”

Liv was starting to feel claustrophobic in the car. There is honestly no room in this van for me and her ego. But frustration aside, she was wondering why Eleanor had omitted that detail. There was a disturbing pattern of her failing to disclose information that could have benefited the investigation.

“He says there’s an abandoned building that he wants to meet me in.” She paused, and they both knew they weren’t going to like the next sentence. “Without the police.”

“Absolutely not,” Archie replied. “We can’t let you go in there alone.”

“Do you think I’d be doing this if I thought I couldn’t handle myself?” she demanded. “Just give me a stab vest or whatever it is you guys use.”

“This goes against every kind of protocol,” Archie stated, feeling more and more like the whole situation was a bad idea.

“This guy is dangerous. You honestly think he’s going to meet me with you lot standing around like front lawn furniture?” Eleanor asked dismissively. “He’ll disappear and the next time any of us hears from him will be when another body turns up.”

She’s really laying it on thick with the martyrdom.

“This is the place,” she said, pointing to a derelict building that looked like it should have been knocked down long ago. “I take it you’ve got a team in place ready to go at the first sign of trouble?”

“Yes, we do,” Liv responded, knowing she didn’t have much choice in the matter. “The wire is working, so we should be able to pick up everything.”

“Of course,” the woman responded, looking like she wanted to block out the instruction. Or any instruction.

They stopped the car, and she tentatively stepped out. Liv half hoped that the fear would make her step back and leave them to do their jobs. But instead, she kept on walking forward until she disappeared into the building.

“Do you think she knows what she’s doing?” Archie asked, not taking his eyes off the front door. They had AFO officers bundled into a van who were spring-loaded to act at the first sign of trouble. She hoped they’d cut off all escape routes.

“For our sake, I hope so,” she muttered. “I think you might have been right, Archie. I think she must be hiding something from us. What, I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let’s get this stalker out of the way before we do anything else,” Archie suggested, a pit in his stomach opening up.

Eleanor was glad to have finally thrown the detectives off the trail. There was no way she could have this conversation with them present.

She found herself thinking about her stalker and how long it'd been since she'd laid eyes on him. How different would he look? She couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the thought of seeing him again. There was a connection even she couldn’t deny.

She navigated through the building, trying to avoid stepping on broken glass. “Hello?” she called out, met only with her own echo. She wondered if it'd been an elaborate bluff.

“I'm up here,” a rough voice called out, shooting down that possibility. Before she started walking up, she tried to dislodge the wire, knowing the detectives were listening to all this. She could tell the handsome sergeant had it in for her.

Slowly, she made her way up the steps, feeling like the floor was about to give way beneath her—in more ways than one. But she had a trump card of her own to play.

She finally appeared at the top of the stairs, and there he was. He looked rugged and unshaven, his clothes hanging off him, like he'd been sleeping rough.

It was his eyes that unnerved her. She was used to his eyes being wet and filled with love, but now there was nothing but hate in those eyes.

“I wasn't sure I was going to see you again,” she said, trying to keep him talking until her backup arrived. With any luck, the police wouldn't spot them.

“You honestly think I was going to let you get away with what you've done?” he snarled, his hands tense. She knew that if he wasn't standing on the other side of the room, those hands would be around her throat squeezing the life out of her.

“It doesn't have to be like this,” she insisted. “We can put this down to a misunderstanding, and I can make it worth your while.”

“There's only one thing I want,” he demanded. “What's the address? You give me the address, and I promise you, we’ll disappear. You'll never see or hear from us again “

She sighed, figuring that was going to be his request. “You know I can't do that. I've got too much at stake.” She heard the sound of a door banging and allowed herself a smile.

Liv and Archie tried to listen in but only picked up a droning noise. “Did she remove the fucking wire?” Liv exclaimed angrily. “What the fuck is she playing at?”

“We'll have plenty of time for ‘I told you so,’ later,” Archie mumbled, before he caught something out of the corner of his eye. There were two men creeping about outside and making their way into the building through the entrance.

We'd better get in there,” he insisted, getting out of the van wearing a stab vest and holding a gun. He walked into the station, listening in for any noise.

Suddenly, a large plank of wood smashed him in the face, knocking him back. The man prepared to strike again, but then Liv appeared behind him, gun raised. “ARMED POLICE!” When the thug refused to cooperate, Liv fired a bullet into his shoulder, knocking him back. “You all right?” she asked her partner, holding out a hand.

“I'll live,” he muttered. “But where's the other guy? I saw two going in.”

As if on cue, there was the sound of grunting upstairs, followed by a thud. Liv and Andrew both raced up the stairs, wondering what sight would await them.

When Liv got to the top, there was a man lying on the ground. He looked to be unconscious. But the real horror was lying nearby.

Eleanor was lying on the ground, blood spurting from a deep gash in her neck. Her manicured hands were soaked as she desperately tried to stop the river of red.

Liv dropped to her knees and immediately began pressing her own hands against the wound to stop the haemorrhaging. “Get an ambulance now!” she shouted to Archie as Eleanor’s eyes began to roll in the back of her head. “Come on, Eleanor, stay with me!”

Despite her best efforts, blood kept pouring out from the wound in Eleanor’s neck, even as the woman tried to speak. Her lips moved weakly before she stopped trying to talk. She felt silent, her eyes going blank. “WHERE IS THAT FUCKING AMBULANCE!?”

12

Liv kept applying pressure around the wound while Archie called an ambulance. “They’re on their way, Liv,” he assured her, looking down at the unconscious woman.

Let’s just hope they get here in time. “What the hell happened here?” She looked down at the unconscious man. “Do you think he’s the one that attacked her?”

“If so, she managed to let loose a killer left hook,” Archie noted, checking the man over to make sure he wasn’t getting back up. He turned him over and slapped some handcuffs on him. “I’m going to detain the other bloke to see if we can get some answers from either of them later on.” He got up and made his way downstairs towards the fallen man lying on the ground, groaning in pain from his gunshot wound. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

Archie decided to check around the remainder of the building, just to see if there was anything they’d missed, but there was no one in the building.

The paramedics rushed into the building and up the stairs. One took over from Liv in compressing the wound while the second paramedic fitted an oxygen mask around Eleanor’s face. He tried to feel for a pulse before turning to his colleague. “We need to clear the airway,” he insisted, holding out his hand. “Get me a Guedel.”

The first paramedic handed him a Guedel airway, and he eased it into Eleanor’s mouth. Liv looked on, shell-shocked. What the hell happened here?

He was hiding away in one of the old storerooms, not making a single sound. He didn’t think anyone was aware of his presence. He hoped it would stay that way because he didn’t think he could fight them all off.

He shifted in the cramped space, wincing as he did so. He’d been nicked in the side, deep enough to draw a lot of blood, which continued to seep through his shirt. He was starting to feel a little dizzy and wondered how much blood he’d lose before he passed out.

He’d completely messed it up. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He thought that he could get Eleanor to cooperate with him and give him what he came for. He should have realised that Eleanor wouldn’t give up her lifestyle so easily. Now, people were going to pay for it. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, merely to use her as leverage.

He could hear the frantic sounds of paramedics working to save her. It was ironic that all that time he’d spent wishing her dead, now more than ever he needed her to pull through. The thugs who attacked him would probably be taken into custody. He wondered if they’d mention him at all.

As he looked around the space, he noticed a set of paintings lined against each other. He squinted at the pictures, and he soon recognised them from Eleanor’s books. Of course, he knew that she wouldn’t have painted the images herself. Such creativity was beyond her.

Soon, the noises dissipated, and he was left alone in the house. But even then, he couldn’t bring himself to leave in case someone was still out there. He got up slowly and walked towards the other side of the room, trying not to look at the paintings. If he had the energy, he probably would have set them on fire. Instead, he needed to get himself to a pharmacy and get some medical supplies. There was no way he could go to the hospital, not with Eleanor likely being taken there or the police hovering over her. He just had to hope that the woman pulled through.

Liv and Archie were sat in the hospital corridor waiting for an update. “So basically, we let her talk us into letting her enter an area with an unknown suspect singlehandedly…” She paused, letting the words sink in for effect. “If it were our absolute goal, could we look any more incompetent? If she dies, we’re going to be known as the coppers that got Eleanor Maddocks killed. And if she lives, then best case scenario, you and I are going to be stuck directing traffic for the rest of our careers.”

“I’m still trying to work out what happened,” Archie muttered. “Something happened up there, and I don’t know if the guy we’ve got in custody is the one who tried to kill Eleanor.”

“Archie, he was the only one up there with her…”

“Liv, if somebody’s managed to get you in the throat, are you honestly telling me you’re going you’re going to have the energy to knock them out?” he asked, prompting her to play out the logistics in her head. She tried to imagine the thug taking a knife to Eleanor, striking her with it, and perhaps she was able to find something solid to hit him over the head with… even though there had been nothing that they could see to hand.

“You’re right, Arch, it doesn’t add up,” she sighed. “So, what are we thinking?”

“I think there was somebody else there,” he suggested. “What they were doing, I don’t know, but they definitely played a part in Eleanor getting stabbed.”

“What about the guys we rounded up?” Liv asked. “Do you think they could be the stalkers and the ones who had robbed the gallery?”

“Well, once they start talking, we’ll know,” he said before quickly adding, “And given that they were both wearing balaclavas, I don’t think it’s worth putting Ms Wheeler through a lineup and causing her unnecessary trauma.”

Liv could see his point, even if it was slanted by personal feelings.

A doctor came out to greet them. “How is she?” Liv asked, jumping out of her seat.

“Well, it was touch and go for a while, but we managed to stabilise her. She required a lot of blood transfusions owing to the amount she lost. Frankly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

Liv was relieved. “Can we go in to talk to her?”

“I’m afraid not,” the doctor replied. “Because of the severity of her injuries, we’ve had to place her in a medically induced coma. We might be able to bring her out of it, but it’s going to be a few days, and there’s no guarantee her condition won’t worsen over time.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she offered before turning to Archie. “You want to give Collins the bad news or the bad news?”

Once he’d finished hearing the story, Collins was at a complete loss for words. He sat in his chair, staring into space. “I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it,” he muttered. “I knew this would come back to bite us in the arse. I don’t know what I was thinking okaying it.”

“Technically, Eleanor Maddocks was the one insisting on all of this. We were just taken along for the ride,” Liv tried to assure him.

“I swear that woman is fucking jinxed,” he muttered. “When I get home, I’m burning every single one of her books that my wife owns. I don’t care how much she likes them.” He turned around and looked out the window. “And the two blokes that you have in custody? Have they got names?”

“Gordon Norris and Pete Clarke. They are both regular criminals with records as long as my arm,” Liv stated. “Both have been in jail for armed robbery and burglary, so hitting the art gallery definitely wasn’t out of their comfort zone. And they’re not above getting violent. Nine years ago, they raided a warehouse and were confronted by a security guard. They left him with a shattered pelvis he still hasn’t recovered from.”

She could imagine Archie behind her, his face darkening.

“So, how do those two men make the transition from brutal thugs to hapless romantics?” Collins asked pointedly.

“We’re still trying to work that one out,” Liv admitted. “But we’re hoping that until Eleanor Maddocks wakes up, they’ll be able to tell us about their relationship to her, if it even exists. We’ve also going to need a warrant to search their houses.”

“That can be sorted no problem,” the superintendent agreed. “Given that they tried to assault a serving police officer, they could be going away for a long time.”

“Thank you, sir,” Liv concluded before they left the office. As they retreated to the kitchen, Olivia steadied herself for the next conversation. I really hoped I’d never have to have this conversation. “Listen, Archie, I don’t know what your feelings are for Susan Wheeler, but I’m hoping they won’t get in the way of the interview. We have to be as neutral as possible and not let our personal feelings get in the way. As much as we might want to rail on him, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this.” God, I feel like such a hypocrite considering all the times I’ve made it personal, but I don’t want him risking his career or his new relationship over something like this.

Archie had never let her down before, and he probably wouldn’t start now.

13

“Mr Norris,” Liv began, sitting in the interrogation room opposite the burly man. Even though Archie had promised to be on his best behaviour, she was still conscious of saying anything that would set him off. “You’re in a lot of trouble. Given the charges you’re facing, as well as your prior history, I don’t think you can hold out for a slap on the wrist.”

“No comment,” Gordon replied flatly, clearly not intimidated by a long stretch inside. From his record, Liv guessed he must have spent a third of his life behind bars.

“While you were in that cell, we carried out a search of your house,” Liv said, laying out photos on the desk. “We found several stolen goods that you and your partner have lifted from a few jobs. So, not exactly sticking to the straight and narrow, I see.”

“No comment.” The man was not taking any of the bait thrown at him.

“But our biggest discovery was by far…” She pointed to a photo of a golf club, the metal end stained with blood. “For the benefit of the tape, I am showing the suspect Item Reference SG-6, the golf club that was missing from Scott Ellis’ own collection. We’ve traced it back to the original bag and have confirmed it is from that collection. And we’re pretty sure the blood residue at the end of it is going to match Scott’s DNA.” She looked him over in disgust. “I know that you’re not above getting your hands dirty, and you don’t have an issue with violence.” She briefly thought of the security guard from years prior in a permanent state of recovery. “But I never thought you’d escalate it to full-blown murder. I mean, what did Scott ever do to you to deserve such a beating?” She knew she was wasting her time with appealing to his morality. The man would gladly brutalise his own mother if the pay was high enough.

She tried to think of a way to get through to him. Someone like Gordon would have adjusted well to prison life, and it’d be hard to scare him into cooperation. He’s probably more comfortable in prison than he is out in the real world.

During a break, Liv made herself a coffee, taking it black, needing something to keep her tense. Archie walked up to her, clearly concerned. “You all right?”

“As much as I love this job, there are days when I envy all the other couples out there,” she moaned. “They get to plan special surprises, meaningful gifts, love trails, trips away… and that’s what me and Dean should be doing. But instead, in the run-up to Valentine’s Day, I’m stuck interviewing that shithead.”

Archie smiled his usual smile that was full of wisdom. “You make it sound as though this is the only day that you and Dean can celebrate your relationship together. You both have something solid going. Are you honestly going to tell me that you’ll only have one day for getting all loved up and then the rest is treated as standard?”

Archie always knew what to say to lift her spirits. “Point taken.”

“It’s just the commercial side playing tricks on you,” he declared. “Marketers looking to cash in. And Dean understands that you need to see this through. He’d do the same.”

Suddenly, Tim came walking over to them, “Liv, I’m glad I caught you. Listen, we’ve got a timeline issue. What was the date that he was stalking Eleanor Maddocks?”

“Um…” She set down her coffee and took out her pocketbook. “16th July 2017.”

“Damn,” Tim muttered. “I checked in with his sister. She says that he was living with her for the first few years after his accident, and she says that he was looking after the kids on that day… meaning that he could not have been anywhere near the event.”

The atmosphere went silent as they digested the news.

“We gave her the picture of Scott Ellis, and she made an instant identification. No hesitation, no trying to second-guess herself. She instantly picked out that this was the man who’d harassed her,” Liv insisted.

“I can’t help calling bullshit,” Archie exclaimed, quickly continuing as Liv opened her mouth to protest. “And no, this isn’t about Susan Wheeler, Liv. Like you said, she ID’d the man quickly. This incident was what, eight years ago? You telling me that her memory is going to be as crystal clear as it was several years ago? You forget certain details. She probably met this guy in the space of what, an hour? And she’s able to pick him out without needing any time to think about it? Even witnesses who have been recent victims of crime will have trouble racking their heads about key details. You see it all the time. So, either her memory is as sharp as a blade… or she’s lying about him harassing her.”

“Yes, when I spoke with his sister, she didn’t strike me as the kind to lie for him or give him a false alibi,” Tim added. ”She said they lost contact over the last few years. Apparently, he got very bitter about all the things he was no longer able to do. She said he became a recluse and struggled with leaving the house. So, the idea that he could have worked up the nerve to attend a convention full of thousands of people was news to her.”

“But there were all those books in his house,” Liv protested, not because she was dismissing the new information but because she wanted to encourage her team to pick holes in the story. “That level of books is fanboy level.”

“Well, she says he wasn’t much of a reader,” Tim responded. “And I looked over all the information regarding the findings at his house. Do you not think that someone who read as much he apparently did would have other books? Why just hers?”

“These are all very good questions, DS Harris,” Liv noted. “Unfortunately, the only person who can probably answer them is in a coma.”

“Not quite,” Archie replied. “We know that Norris and Clarke were in Scott’s house, and we know that they killed him. It’ll be interesting to find out what else they were up to.”

“We’re in a difficult situation, Mr Clarke,” Liv said, now facing Pete Clarke in the interview room. “See, one person was murdered, but there were two people present. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that only one person could have swung that club.”

Pete listened carefully, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“We don’t know what went on in that house, but we know only one of you could have killed Scott Ellis. So, if you tell us what happened, we can take that into account regarding the charges you’ll face. But we need you to tell us the truth.”

Pete leaned over as his solicitor whispered into his ear. “Okay, I’ll play ball.”

“So, let’s start with the big question—what is your relationship with Eleanor Maddocks?” Liv asked, interested in knowing how the two worlds would collide.

“We don’t have a relationship,” Pete snorted derisively. “I don’t go in for that housewife porn. I barely know her.”

“So, why did you and Mr Norris both commit a series of crimes that were connected to her?” Liv asked, knowing that this might not be the fanboy angle she’d been expecting.

“We were told about a couple of jobs that needed doing,” Pete explained, settling back in the chair, now in full confession mode. “Me and Gordon were told there’d be a lot of money involved and we’d both be well compensated. We were told to go to this guy’s house, plant a load of books in there… and kill him.”

“Why him?” Liv asked, wanting more information but angry that Scott Ellis might have died for no reason.

“It was the job we were given,” Pete responded. “And we were told there was a lot of money involved. But for what it’s worth, I didn’t kill him. I did have issues with it. But Gordon said that it wasn’t like he was living much of a life anyway. No one would have missed him.”

Pushing back her anger, Liv continued. “So, you planted the books in his house?”

“Yes, in the upstairs bedroom,” he answered. “And then we left.”

“So, after you killed him, what happened then?” Archie chimed in.

“We were told to raid a gallery and pick up some paintings that were kept in the storeroom. But there was someone already there. She tried to stop us, and Gordon hurt her.”

Archie had to hide his clenched fist under the table at that point.

“And what were you going to do with the paintings?” Liv asked, knowing that the uniqueness of them would lead to a difficult sale.

“We were told to stash them in an old rundown building and leave them there,” Pete explained. “I’ve honestly got no idea why we had to, but those were our instructions.”

“Why did you head back around the time we showed up?” Liv asked.

“We were told that there was somebody there who needed taking out. And that there was a woman who needed protecting.”

14

Liv felt they were getting to the real meat of the situation. “Go on.”

“We were told that a meeting was taking place and that a woman needed protecting from a guy who was going to meet her there, and there’d be an extra 5K in it for us both if we could get there in time.” He looked to Archie. “But we didn’t expect to run into you guys.”

“Do you know anything about your employer?” Liv asked, feeling like they were the prime mover in these events. “A name, a picture, anything?”

“No, everything has been done online. Not had any contact with them specifically,” Pete responded. “They probably kept to themselves for their own protection. But me and Gordon went there, and Gordon tried to hold off you two, and I went upstairs.”

“Then what happened?” Archie asked, remembering how the scene didn’t add up at first glance, and he was now convinced that there’d been another person there.

“We got there and there was this woman standing there and this other bloke. We were told that we needed to protect the woman and take out the other guy,” Pete said, clearly still struggling to make sense of the instructions. “So, I brought a switchblade with me. He tried to go for her, and I tried to step forward with the knife, and we got into a struggle. And I tell you, he really wanted to hurt her, was going to wrestle me away, so I swiped at him… but he shoved me back and took the knife and lunged at her. All three of us struggled over the knife and then it nicked her neck. He pushed me back and must have knocked me out… Then the next thing I know, I’m waking up with you two standing over me. And that’s all I remember.”

Liv and Archie exchanged a look, feeling like a gigantic piece of the puzzle had landed in their lap and they needed to put it together. “Did the woman say anything?”

“The man said that he should have known she wouldn’t back down so easily, but she said that she had to protect her interests. Then he replied that they were talking about a person and that even animals didn’t deserve that treatment.”

“What?” Liv asked, unable to make sense of it all.

“I didn’t understand what they were talking about. It looked like a domestic,” Pete stated, looking exhausted from trying to understand it all.

“The woman who was there,” Archie said slowly. “Had you ever seen her before the meeting?” He figured that Pete and Gordon were not the type of people to mix with Eleanor.

“No, never seen her before in my life. Same for the other guy who was there. Both complete strangers to me,” he shrugged.

“What about the letters?” Liv asked, hopping back into the discussion. “The letters that were sent to her hotel room. Why did you send those?”

Pete looked completely stumped. “We didn’t send any letters to anyone,” he finally replied. “I don’t know where you’re getting your intel from, but I can assure you that was not on the itinerary.” He went silent, and Liv was convinced he had nothing else to share.

Except for one thing… “The paintings that you stored in the abandoned building…” Archie asked slowly as Liv allowed him to take the lead on that one. “Are they still there?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t be,” he answered to the detectives’ visible delight.

“So, we’ve got them both for the burglary of the art gallery,” Liv told Collins once they were back in his office. “And for the murder of Scott Ellis. The paintings have since been recovered and returned to the gallery, and we’ve got a good case to present to the CPS.”

“Well done, the pair of you,” he smiled warmly before his face remained frozen. “But where does this leave Eleanor Maddocks? What is her role in all of this?”

“We’re still trying to work that one out,” Liv suggested. “But we know that she lied about Scott Ellis being her stalker. I’m not sure that incident even happened.”

“So, she’s been lying to us,” Collins suggested before sitting back in his chair pensively. “Got to say, it would certainly take the heat off of us if it was found out that she had orchestrated much of the case.”

Trust Collins to look at the optics. “There’s a lot that she seems to be hiding,” Liv noted. “That whole ‘wanting to go out there and meet with her stalker.’ That wasn’t her trying to protect anybody. That was her trying to steer control away from us. And then there’s her stalker. She knows him directly, enough to know what he thinks. She must have gone into the building by herself thinking that she could handle it.”

“And the person who hired Norris and Clark?” Collins asked, trying to cover as many angles as possible. “Do you think that could be her?”

“We don’t have any direct evidence yet,” Archie noted. “But I think the fact that those two blokes turned up at the same time we were due to deploy AFOs is suspicious. Nobody else knew that, except her. And assuming Pete Clarke is telling the truth, they were trying to ward off the third man and protect Eleanor. It’s a stretch I know, but Eleanor Maddocks has the financial means to organise all of this.”

“But why?” the superintendent demanded. “She’s a successful author. She makes her living sat behind a computer banging one out every six months. She’s living the dream, so why would she need to finance a crime spree?”

“We won’t know until she’s woken up,” Archie replied, feeling vindicated in his mistrust of the woman. “Whatever the reason, she is definitely out for herself, and I wonder if she timed her trip to Newquay specifically so that she’d be there when it all kicked off. She would look less suspicious if it looked like she was being targeted. She hires two local thugs to do the dirty work for her and comes out smelling of roses.”

“What about this other guy who’s involved? What are we supposed to make of him?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s clear Eleanor knows him. Pete Clarke gave us a description to go on. Early forties, greying black hair, looked like a homeless man. We haven’t got any more than that. We’ve gone back to the building for another look, but there’s no traces of him. He might have been injured in the fight, but there’s nothing to suggest he’s been admitted to hospital. So, he’s still out there somewhere, but there’s no way to contact him.”

“That’s not actually true,” Archie chimed in. “Don’t forget, he contacted her on her mobile, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that the number will still be in the phone. Do we need a warrant to access the phone?”

“You can probably have a look at the phone, but I don’t think it will get you far,” Collins responded, already anticipating disappointment. “Assuming that the phone doesn’t have all these security measures, this guy is still a suspect in an ongoing investigation. We barely know anything about him, like how dangerous he is. For now, I’d recommend keeping an eye on the hospital. He clearly wants something that only Eleanor can give him.”

He opened up his wallet and took out the photo.

It’d been taken the previous Valentine’s. They’d snuck off together for a day trip, most of it spent driving around and basking in each other’s company, new facts about each other coming to light. It’d culminated in a picnic on the beach where he felt that endless optimism for the future. Her raven hair had been blowing in the wind, a radiant smile on her face, a kiss from lips tinted with cherry flavour. He’d experienced pleasure and desire before, but being in those moments with her, he realised how soulless they all had been on reflection. How much had been missing from his life. And when he thought about the future stretched out before the pair of them, there was a fearlessness as he was ready to take it on with her.

And then it’d all come crashing down. He was so angry with himself for how he’d handled it. He should have known there would be no backing out, no repercussions, but he underestimated how far Eleanor would be willing to go to keep what was hers.

He wondered if his beloved still thought about him, if, even when faced with that nightmarish existence, she still held out hope that one day, she’d see him again.

He would never stop trying to find her, never stop looking. When he heard that Eleanor was headed to Newquay, he felt like it would be one of his only chances.

He should have gone to the police. At the time, he told himself that they wouldn’t have believed his story, that Eleanor would use whatever influence she could to make him look like the bad guy. It wasn’t too late. He could still march into the station and tell them everything. But would they believe him? Eleanor had already done a stellar job of turning everyone against him. He prayed that she woke up from the coma, but until she did, he hoped that he haunted her dreams for what she’d done to him. To them.

15

“Ican’t believe it,” Susan exclaimed with surprise. “You actually managed to find the paintings? All of them?” She looked like she was going to faint from the shock. Archie chose his words carefully as he stood there in her living room.

“Yes, we’re going to be keeping hold of them for a while, on account of them being evidence in an ongoing investigation. But once we’ve got everything we need from them, there’s no reason for us to keep hold of them. They’ll be yours again to do whatever you want with them.” He took care not to mention Eleanor Maddocks’ potential role in having caused all the distress in the first place.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to make an exhibition out of them,” Susan replied, going into the kitchen. “The more I think about it, the more I feel like I was selling my soul in the process by making my big break by drawing porn.”

Archie remembered some of his own feelings about erotica and felt he’d have to bite his tongue. “I think it’s more about the type of artist you want to be. I can’t think of a single person who ever committed to creative desires without having to compromise. Erotica may not be your foray, but that doesn’t mean you can’t create something that has merit. If anything, it shows the range of what you can do.”

Susan smiled. “You are endearingly optimistic, you know that?” She handed him a cup of coffee as he tried to hide his blush. He tugged at his shirt collar, feeling too warm.

“There was another matter I wanted to put to you,” he began. “And just so you know, you don’t have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, I promise you. But umm… if you want to meet up at some point, maybe once the dust has settled on all the hassle over the burglary… Maybe you might like to get dinner at some point?”

He bowed his head, bracing himself for rejection.

Susan offered a warm smile as she sipped her coffee. “You don’t have a lot of practice with this, do you?” she remarked gently.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked nervously, daring himself to look up at her.

“It would be quite nice to spend some time with you outside of work,” Susan said gently, and Archie felt like his world was opening up.

Liv couldn’t help questioning her sanity. She should be sitting with Dean watching some cheesy romantic comedy and eating heart-shaped chocolates.

Instead, she was sitting in a diner that looked like it should have been closed down a long time ago. She knew nobody would disturb them in a place like this, but she was still worried what people would think if they saw her there. I can’t keep up the pretense for much longer. I’ve got to come clean to them. I already feel like a Judas just sitting here.

The door opened, and her visitor appeared. Katie Gibson, former PC and undercover journalist. It’d been a while since Liv had made contact with her. The journalist had been lucky to get off with a suspended sentence for posing as a police officer. Even though Katie was not a popular person among the officers at the station, she’d proven that she was trying to make amends for her past actions. Liv would always be grateful to her for protecting her sister Mills. Without Katie, Mills would have died along with her then-unborn baby.

“Good to see you again, DI Austin,” Katie said as she settled into the seat. “I hope you don’t mind if I avoid ordering anything. I feel like I might need a tetanus shot.”

Her voice was loud enough for the woman behind the counter to glance in her direction with a dirty look. But Katie ignored her.

“How’s the PI business going?” Liv asked, knowing that after a lot of self-reflection, Katie was trying to set herself up as a private investigator in the hopes that she could still use her skills as a journalist for something more positive.

“It’s coming along slowly but surely,” Katie admitted. “Most of the time, it’s things like rich housewives wanting proof that their husbands are doing the dirty on them, just for a bit of leverage when the divorce comes rolling around. It brings in some money, but it’s not the kind of thing that I need to be doing. I want to make a difference.”

“Well, I’m glad you said that, because I was wondering if you wanted to do a bit of digging on something,” Liv suggested.

“Like what?” Katie asked, her interest piqued. Liv had given Katie a strong character reference which was probably one of the only reasons she wasn’t serving a custodial sentence. Katie had already made it clear that whenever Liv needed help, she’d never have to worry about money at all. Liv imagined Katie would probably break her arm if she dared to pay. Just as well, because there’s nobody else I can trust with this.

“There’s been a story going around the station,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Last month, we had an allegation that one of the officers had slept with a witness in protective custody. They haven’t given any specific dates. The result of that tryst was a child. And now, the woman is threatening the police to take responsibility or they’re going to smear our name all over the papers.”

Katie sat in silence as she digested the information. “Wow, that woman certainly has a set of balls on her. And I take it you haven’t found the father out?”

“Well, we’re talking about somebody sleeping with a witness of an ongoing investigation, so I think we’re going to be waiting a while for an ‘I am Spartacus’ moment,” Liv remarked, not even sure if there was a culprit.

“And the witness herself? Has she come forward?” Katie asked.

“No, everything’s just been online straight to our Super,” Liv muttered.

“Well, if they’re trying to give Collins a stroke, they’re going the right way about it,” she said. “Normally, in my day, if you were going to put accusations across, you had to have evidence to back it up. Pictures, reports, DNA results.”

“No offence, Katie, but I didn’t think journalists waited around for proof before printing,” Liv joked lightly.

“Touché,” the other woman replied, taking it on the chin. “So, what do you want me to do about it? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve asked to meet at the armpit of Newquay.”

“I want you to try and find out what you can about this woman,” Liv asked. “Doesn’t have to be intensive. Just see if there’s anything you can uncover.”

“Going to be hard,” Katie acknowledged. “That would require a peek at more than a few police files, and I’m definitely not flavour of the month.”

“Well, I’m sure you can find your way around that,” Liv remarked.

“Can I offer just a little bit of advice on that front?” she asked. “I’m guessing Collins doesn’t know we’re meeting here.” Liv’s answer told her everything. “I think you need to tell him about us meeting up. He needs to know what I’m doing.”

“You realise that the moment I tell him that, I might as well walk around the station with ‘Judas’ tattooed on my forehead,” she protested, imagining the scenario of telling Collins about her clandestine meetings with Katie and imagining the fallout.

“It’s not for me, okay? I’ll happily do this regardless of what you say to him. But you can’t keep this quiet forever, and speaking from personal experience, it will eat away at you. At first, I didn’t have any issues with pulling the wool over your eyes. For me, it was part and parcel of what I was trying to do. But over time, getting to know you all, it did eat away at me. But by that point, I was in too deep to do anything about it. You have worked with these people for years. I’ve seen the reverence they have for you, Olivia. That’s not just a team, that’s a family, and you owe it to them to tell them what you’re doing.”

Liv sighed. She knew the woman was right. She couldn’t keep her friends in the dark forever. But that didn’t stop her from being worried about the backlash. “They will still be pissed off with you. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t blame them for being ticked off with me,” she insisted. “I made my fair share of mistakes, and I’ll spend a long time paying for them. You don’t want to follow my example. Trust me, DI Austin. It’s an unwise person who doesn’t learn from their own mistakes but an absolute idiot that doesn’t learn from other people’s.”

“Well, okay, I’ll let Collins know when I get the chance. And you know how it went down depending on whether my head’s intact.” Liv agreed, trying to steel herself for any future bollockings. Just as long as she didn’t lose the respect of her colleagues.

“In the meantime, I’ll start finding out what I can about this witness.”

16

She’d lost count of how long she’d spent down there.

Three weeks she’d been told she’d been left on her own, and there’d been enough food and water to last her that long. She had trouble keeping track of the days. She didn’t get to see any sunlight. The only way to mark the passage of time was the clock on her laptop. But seeing the time click by, knowing how much time was passing for her, she couldn’t work out if that made things better or worse.

It’d been nine months now, and the isolation was getting to her. She had had a few out-of-body sensations and had started hearing things.

She looked up at the door leading to the stairway. When she’d first been brought down there, she’d pounded on it until her hands were red, to the point she nearly broke them from the impact. That would teach her captor a lesson. But she’d been warned that if those fingers were broken, then there’d be no reason to keep her around anymore.

She was promised that one day, she’d be allowed to leave. But every time that promise was made, it sounded more and more half-hearted, and the likelihood of freedom felt further and further away from her. She wondered if she were being watched on the camera.

She looked around the room, unable to find anything that would take her out of this hell. But she could not bring herself to lose hope. Not while he was out there. Not while he was still looking for her. So, she returned to the desk and tried to hold onto hope.

He made his way into the hospital, amazed at how easily he’d pulled it off. He’d told them that he was Eleanor’s brother, and they’d bought it without any show of scepticism.

He’d stayed away for as long as he could, but not anymore. Not while she was out there. He needed to do right by her. He owed it to her.

He walked up to the bed where she was lying. It was shocking in its contrast. She’d always seemed larger than life, less a person and more a force of nature. Now, he was seeing that was just the fancy clothes and the makeup. At that moment, eyes closed, clad in a hospital gown, her neck bandaged up, she looked like she could pass for human.

“I don’t know if you can understand me,” he started, leaning over the bed, trying to control his emotions. “But I really hope that this gets through that thick brain of yours, you vindictive bitch. I know how to hurt you. And if weren’t for Mika, you’d have been dead a long time ago.” He reached out and held his hand just over her neck. “It would be so simple. One little squeeze. Or maybe I could tear that neck of yours open all over again…”

“You’ll do no such thing,” a voice called out behind him, and he whipped around to see two people coming towards him. “Detective Inspector Olivia Austin. And don’t bother trying to run, it won’t do you any good. We’ve got the hospital locked down.”

She turned him around and took out the handcuffs. “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 something under questioning that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” As she started to take him away, the man looked back at Eleanor, as if willing her to wake up. Time to get some answers.

“My name is Marcus Fitzgerald,” he stated in the interview room, surprising them with how forthright he was being. Normally, we have to pry it out of them.

“Mr Fitzgerald, we need to ask you some questions about some things that have been happening in Newquay since you and Eleanor arrived,” Liv began, laying out evidence on the table. “Firstly, I want you to…”

“Before we go any further, I want you both to understand something.” It wasn’t the sound of a man sounding cocky or a suspect trying to negotiate his way out of a rough sentence. “Whatever you think you know about Eleanor Maddocks, it’s all bullshit. She’s good at pulling the wool over your eyes. She is great at making herself look like the victim when, I promise you, she’s anything but.”

Liv and Archie looked at each other, trying to decide where to go from that point on. It felt like a leap of faith, but she decided to go with it.

“Mr Fitzgerald, we’ve been looking at this investigation from all angles, and it’s clear that Eleanor Maddocks has been hiding a few things from us,” Liv explained, sounding sympathetic. “So, I assure you, despite her being in the hospital, we’re not looking at her as a victim. But we need to understand a few things that you’ve done yourself.” She pointed to printouts of the stalker letters. “Now, would I be right in assuming that these are your letters?”

“Yes, I wrote those letters,” he stated flatly. There was clearly more he wanted to tell.

“So, what kind of relationship do you have with Eleanor?” Archie asked, the possibilities whirring through his mind.

“I used to be her partner,” Marcus explained, folding his arms. “I met her a few years ago, after she’d made a big success of her life. I was working as a landscape gardener. We first met when she hired me to do a job on her front lawn. Paid good money for it. We got chatting after a while, and she kept on having me back for more jobs. And I won’t deny, I was quite taken in at first. She had this confidence about her. She knew what she wanted, and I admired that.” He looked regretful at having held her in such high esteem.

“We started seeing each other shortly after that, and I’ve got to say, it wasn’t what I thought it’d be,” Marcus said. “She was used to living the high life. She had all the money and power she could have possibly wanted. She could walk into a shop to buy a dress and decide to buy the shop. If she saw a car that she wanted to add to her collection, it could be hers by the end of the day. She had all these holiday homes that were more like palaces. She had everything anyone could want.”

“But did you want it?” Liv asked, knowing there were many people who married into wealth simply for the wealth. She wondered what type Marcus would be.

“It wasn’t my world,” he explained. “I always felt like a visitor, like I didn’t want to belong. And before long, I ended up seeing this other side to Eleanor, the side that seems to enjoy the hold she has over others. She liked humiliating anyone she thought was worse than her. She treated the whole world like it was a pyramid with herself on top. She felt like everyone automatically owed her. You may not have seen this, but she has the most bloated sense of entitlement of anyone you will ever meet.”

Liv and Archie struggled not to burst into laughter. “Would it surprise you if we said we’d already been exposed to that side of her?”

“So, you know by now that she’s a vicious, evil bitch who treats the world like a snow globe she can shake every time she feels like it. She might play nice with some people if she thinks she can get something out of it, but she’ll just end up ripping all their heads off in the end. Like she did with me…”

“So, how did the end of your relationship come about?” Liv asked.

“Well, she had this secretary who was working for her. Her name was Mika. Really lovely girl, and she was the opposite of Eleanor in every way. She was bright, she was kind, and very soft-spoken. But there was a resilience about her which I suppose you’d have to have had working for someone like Eleanor.”

Liv winced, wondering if this was going where she thought it was going.

“We got chatting, and I actually found it easier to get on with her than with Eleanor. And we ended up…” He trailed off, hoping they picked up on his meaning.

“Did Eleanor ever pick up on it?” Archie asked. “I mean with you two copulating under her nose, it doesn’t exactly scream subtlety.”

“No, I suppose we weren’t very subtle,” he replied, looking sheepish, but then his face clouded over. “If I’d known what it would lead to, I would have thought twice.”

“What did it lead to?” Liv asked, leaning over the table.

“Mika was always very cagey when the subject of Eleanor came up. I thought that was just intimidation at work, but one night, we were going to bed while Eleanor was away on a business trip. We’d had far too many glasses of red wine. But I was still awake, and I got up and saw that she’d left her computer on. At first, I was going to close it down—save power and all that—and then I got a proper look at the document she had open. It was brilliantly written, all of it. But I remembered hearing it before when Eleanor was quoting it in her office. From the book that she said she needed to finish in a month’s time.”

“So, Mika was writing the book for her?” Liv asked. Didn’t see that one coming.

17

“Yeah, I was as surprised as you are, so I went to speak to Mika about it. At first, she tried to deny it, scared that Eleanor was going to find out. But as soon as I promised her that it would stay between us, she told me that it wasn’t an isolated case. She’d been writing all of Eleanor’s books for her since the start of her career. Apparently, Eleanor struggled to get over her writer’s block, and she left the bulk of the writing to Mika. Pretty soon, it got to the point where Mika was coming up with all the plots and the characters. Eleanor wouldn’t pay her any more than a secretary’s salary, but Eleanor was going and making millions off those books. How is that fair?”

“So, Mika was a ghostwriter?” Liv asked, remembering Eleanor marvelling in her own brilliance. “I’m sorry, Marcus, but I don’t see how that is controversial. I mean, I know a lot of people use ghostwriters these days. If I ever got around to writing about my life, I’d probably use a ghostwriter. It’s not the kind of thing they crucify you for in the court of public opinion.”

“I know,” Marcus replied, though he didn’t seem satisfied. “I told Mika that she should consider writing her own stories, but I think she lacked the confidence in herself to do it. I told her that I’d support her in whatever she needed to do.”

“Good thing Eleanor wasn’t around to hear you say that,” Archie remarked.

“But she was,” Marcus replied, looking grim. “We knew that Eleanor was protective about her secret coming out. What we didn’t realise was how far she’d go to keep her secret. I didn’t find out until later that Eleanor had installed screwhead cameras all around the house—in the living room, bedroom, and bathroom—and that she would be watching it all on a tablet in her possession.”

“And what happened after that?” Liv asked, dreading to find out.

“I came home one day to find the police waiting for me, accusing me of assaulting Mika, and Eleanor telling them how I’d terrified the poor woman. Mika herself was nowhere to be found. She was declared missing. Eventually, people started looking at her disappearance as a murder, and I was the prime suspect. They let me go only because they really didn’t have any evidence. Eleanor came to visit me shortly after I made bail and told me that if I ever showed my face around there again, it’d be the end of me and Mika. It was that last part that caught me off-guard. I didn’t know what it meant.”

Liv and Archie didn’t ask any more questions, enraptured by the story.

“Two months after that, Eleanor’s latest book came out. I saw all of these things written in them, phrases that I knew to be Mika’s personal wording, and I swear that’s when I knew it had all gone straight to hell. Mika wasn’t dead. Eleanor was keeping her prisoner.”

“What!?” Liv and Archie exclaimed, bug-eyed and horrified.

“I should have known that Eleanor wouldn’t give up her meal ticket so easily. She couldn’t kill Mika off, not when she needed her. But she’d make damn sure that nobody could get to her or that Mika could get away. Mika was in the worst possible situation, and it was my fault.” He banged his fist on the table. “If I hadn’t have done that, gotten involved with her, she’d be all right.” He held his head in his hands.

“So, is Eleanor keeping Mika at the house?” Liv asked, fully expecting to go up there and find a panic room holding the captive ghostwriter.

“I don’t know!” Marcus suddenly snapped. “I went back to look at the house, but I couldn’t find anything. I’d have taken the whole place apart with a sledgehammer, but Eleanor’s not the kind of person to shit where she eats. I don’t know where she’s keeping her, and she says that if I go anywhere near her, she’ll have me sent to prison for a long time, and Mika will pay for everything I try to do to her.”

Liv couldn’t believe they’d gone to the trouble of protecting the woman.

“When I met her, I honestly thought she was a glory hound,” Archie exclaimed. “But she’s worse than that. She’s a monster.”

“She is,” Marcus replied. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her, trying to wait for her to trip up so I’ve got something I can take to the police. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I need to get Mika out of this.” He rubbed his eyes which were already wet with tears.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Liv asked sympathetically.

“I do,” he responded. “I’d give anything to have her with me.”

“So, you came down to Newquay when you heard that Eleanor was doing a book tour around here?” Archie asked, trying to keep on track.

“I sent her notes, thinking I could unsettle her. Those words, those specific paragraphs are the passages that I first recognised as Mika’s. And later, I found out about the theft at the art gallery and knew she had to be behind that. She was always worried about dwindling book sales and felt that she needed a current event to boost them. She once talked about faking a kidnapping so that people would want to absorb everything they could about ‘a talent gone too soon.’ At first, I thought she was joking. Clearly, I was wrong. I thought that if I could find evidence that she was behind the theft, I could threaten her into letting Mika go. But I didn’t count on her bringing in her own little hit squad to back her up. One of them brought a knife, we struggled over it, and then… she got stabbed.”

“She almost bled out,” Archie noted disapprovingly.

“I swear to you, I wasn’t looking to kill her. If Eleanor dies, I might as well have killed Mika, because that bitch is the only one who knows where she is,” Marcus protested.

“So, why didn’t you come to us?” Liv asked, remembering how they’d stormed the building. “We could have helped you.”

“I was worried that you’d blame it all on me,” he explained. “She was a best-selling author and media darling. I was a disgraced landscape gardener. Who do you think the police were more likely to believe? If I turned up ranting like some possessed lunatic, she could have easily spun the narrative that I had killed Mika. Let’s be honest, if she hadn’t have gone pulling all this shit with the burglary, would you have been any the wiser as to what she’s really like?”

Liv couldn’t bring herself to answer that one.

“I went to the hospital today to see if I could force it out of her,” Marcus explained. “I swear, I could have killed the woman for what she’s done to Mika. It was probably a good thing you got there when you did.” He leaned back in his chair, exhausted from the story he’d told. “Now, I’ve told you everything I know. Can you please promise me that you can get Mika out of whatever hellhole she’s in?”

Liv gulped, feeling the extra pressure of having another life at stake.

“We’ll do our utmost, Marcus,” Archie promised sincerely.

“How do you even know this woman is alive?” Collins asked. “I understand the urgency here for the young woman in question, but what proof does Mr Fitzgerald have that she’s still alive? For all we know, Eleanor could have killed her months ago.”

“She enjoys the success that she gets from the books too much,” Archie explained. “She doesn’t want to surrender her meal ticket. Not if she can help it.”

“Well, in that case, I suggest you do whatever you can to save her,” Collins commanded. “But I’m interested to know where you plan to start. Ms Maddocks still hasn’t regained consciousness, so it’s not like she’s in a talkative mood.”

“Marcus mentioned that she found out about them through hidden cameras. Cameras that she was watching through a tablet,” Liv surmised. “If she’s got to leave a place for weeks on end, then it stands to reason she’d make sure Mika was still able to write.”

“We could seize her electronics,” Archie suggested. “I think I saw a tablet in her room. Maybe we can get Clara to access it and do a little tinkering.”

Before long, Clara had the tablet in her possession and started looking at bypassing a lot of the passwords and firewalls. It didn’t take long for her to find the video feed. “You two might want to brace yourselves,” she cautioned the detectives as she brought up the footage.

It showed what looked like an ordinary home with furnishings and a tablet, but the room had a claustrophobic vibe to it. Liv could tell if she looked closely at the door leading to the outside world, there was no handle, and on the screen was a woman hunched in a corner, trying to hold off the sobs.

“Is that feed live?” Liv asked. Once Clara nodded, she said, “We need to find that location and get somebody down there now.”

18

Mika was struggling to hold it together. When she took up the job of writing for Eleanor Maddocks, she thought it’d be a dream come true, a chance to be the writer she’d always known she was. And while her employer had proven to be a temperamental person, she still felt she was making progress in her writing.

But it was meeting Marcus that’d been a breath of fresh air for her. He’d always been kind and encouraging towards her, and when he discovered her secret, he had told her that she should write her own stories rather than be a custodian of somebody else’s.

Then, one morning, Eleanor had drugged her and stored her away, telling her she ‘couldn’t allow her secret to come out’. When Mika asked after Marcus, the author had refused to offer anything, only telling her to ‘do her job.’ And her job had become her life, churning out books in isolation in the fleeting hope that one day Eleanor might let her go.

She had no idea where she was being kept. She’d been blindfolded on arrival. She’d tried calling for help several times, but no one answered.

She curled up on the flea-bitten sofa that Eleanor had stored in her prison and rocked back and forth, despair starting to set in.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a lock turning and looked up. Was she back already? She wasn’t due back for at least another fortnight.

The door opened, and a burst of sunlight fell on Mika for the first time in months. She flinched away as a calming voice assured her, “It’s okay, Mika. You’re safe.”

Eleanor’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Her mind had already started racing, thinking about how Marcus had nearly got her killed. She would take care of him. Maybe she would punish Mika as a way of getting to him. That would teach him to upend her lifestyle.

As the world came back into focus, she realised she was sitting in a hospital bed. She looked up and saw two people standing over her—DI Austin and DS Elmhurst.

“Ah, Detectives,” she said, sitting up in the bed. “I hope you’ve got some good news about my attacker. I will be making a complaint about what’s happened.”

“Even though you were the one who insisted on the whole cloak-and-dagger act?” Archie asked, looking excited at the prospect of what came next.

“Mika and Marcus give their regards,” Liv commented, watching the blood drain from her face. “Archie, let’s see if you can find this woman some clothes. Eleanor Maddocks, I’m arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder, burglary, aggravated assault, and false imprisonment. You do not have to say anything, but 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 used in evidence.” Talk your way out of that, bitch.

An hour later, the three were sat in an interrogation room, Eleanor not looking glammed up as usual. She’d barely spoken a word since she’d got there.

“Do you recognise the woman in this image?” Liv asked, showing the author an image on her mobile.

“Should I?” she asked, still trying to play the indignant victim.

“That’s Mika Harris,” the inspector growled. “This is a still that was taken from your tablet. We’ve seen that the cameras in that facility all show her being held captive. Don’t bother denying it. The video feed was linked directly to your tablet. You’ll be pleased to know that we managed to contact authorities, put the word out and find the location, and Mika has been recovered safely.”

Eleanor breathed in heavily, trying to think of the words that would stop her world from crashing down around her. “I can explain. You need to speak to Marcus Fitzgerald. He—”

“Oh, we’ve already spoken to Marcus at great length,” she stated.

“It’s a hell of a story,” Archie chimed in. “No pun intended.”

“And we’ve got evidence proving that you orchestrated the gallery robbery. Email exchanges with Gordon Norris and Pete Clarke,” she continued.

“I can explain,” Eleanor finally said. As her solicitor held up a hand to silence her, she insisted, “No. I want to explain.”

“And I would love to hear it,” Liv snarled, waiting for the bullshit excuse.

“Every now and then, sales dwindle,” she finally said. “Sometimes, you need a few dramatic moments to get the interest going. I thought that if it looked like an attack on me, then sales would go through the roof again.”

“But you were already well-off,” Liv insisted. “You’re telling us that you orchestrated that simply because you didn’t want to cut back on the champagne?”

“It was all going to work out all right until Marcus started sniffing around. So, I tried to improvise, make out that that cripple was part of it all. That I was a survivor. Women who are victimised by men like to have that solidarity.”

Liv wanted to launch herself across the table. “You arranged for a man to be killed!”

“He was just a guy on benefits,” she said with a shrug. “He was nobody special.”

“He meant something to someone,” Archie said angrily.

“And that’s not getting onto Mika,” Liv said. “I’m not against you using a ghostwriter, but why not let her go off with Marcus? Why not just hire another ghostwriter?”

“Personally, because they both thought they could do the dirty behind my back,” Eleanor replied, sounding wounded, as though the idea that Marcus could want an ordinary person over her was incomprehensible. “And also because I needed Mika. She captured my style better than anybody else. They would have known I wasn’t writing the books.”

“That’s enough,” Liv said, her voice low. “She was held in that room for nearly nine months, slaving away, churning out books for you, never knowing whether she was ever going to be released. That woman is going to be traumatised for the rest of her life by what you’ve done to her. And you kept there because you didn’t want people to know you couldn’t write your own books? Your ego just couldn’t take it.”

Eleanor didn’t say anything else, the silence confirming what Liv already knew. “You disgust me,” Liv said with as much venom as she could muster.

“I mean something to people out there,” Eleanor replied. “I have people worshipping me, writing me fan mail. It took a long time for me to get to this point. I had to work bloody hard at it. Mika was just a temp who was quick with words before I picked her up. And Marcus? I let him into my life, into my bed, gave him a life he would never have touched otherwise, and it still wasn’t enough for him.”

“Your ego couldn’t take that he chose her over you,” Archie concluded. “It was as much about punishing Mika as it was about keeping your secret, wasn’t it?”

“You’re very big on image, Eleanor, aren’t you?” Liv asked, her voice soft but the fury in her tone palpable. “How do you think people are going to feel when they learn everything you’ve done? Because I promise you, with the hole you’ve dug for yourself, even your overpriced lawyer isn’t going to pull you out. You’re going to go away for a long time. As for Mika, she’s going to recover from what you’ve done to her. She’s going to go on to become the success she deserves to be, and she’s going to distance herself from you as much as possible. And Marcus? He’s going to have a good life with her and a pat on the back from me. Oh, trust me. I’m going to make sure they’re both very well looked after.”

She pressed the tape. “Interview terminated at 11:44 am.” She rose from her seat, locking eyes with the author who was suddenly feeling the reality of her situation weighing down on her. “Get her out of my sight.” She watched as Eleanor was led away to a prison of her own making.

She’d been to visit Mika in the hospital alongside Marcus to assure him that no charges would be brought against him. She looked over at Mika, who had barely spoken a word. She was lying in the bed still getting used to all the familiar sensations she thought she’d never experience again. Marcus had promised that he would look after her and give her whatever she needed.

In truth, Liv didn’t know if the woman would ever recover from this. She didn’t know if Mika would even want to sit down in front of a keyboard again after the trauma she’d been through. It would be a shame if she couldn’t live her dream because of Eleanor.

All she could do was hope that time would heal all wounds. As she left the hospital, Liv saw Marcus embracing Mika and tried to tell herself that they’d both be all right.

EPILOGUE

“Ijust can’t believe it,” Susan Wheeler exclaimed as she took a sip of red wine. “It beggars belief. I mean, I knew she wasn’t much of a people person, but I didn’t think it’d be down to anything like this.”

“That makes the two of us,” Archie commented as he sat at the table opposite her, a steak before him. He’d worn his best suit for the evening, wanting to make the effort for his date. “Over the years, I’ve dealt with all manner of motives for criminal activities, but you always find yourself coming back to the most mundane and simple motive of all—plain, simple greed. I just didn’t expect her to go as far as she did.”

“So, how long is she going to get sent down for?” Susan asked, gritting her teeth and thinking of her own distress caused by the egomaniacal author.

“I’d say she’ll be lucky if she gets out before pension age,” he answered. “Her rap sheet is quite extensive. And given the kind of people she’s going to be imprisoned alongside, I think money will only take her so far.”

“Good,” Susan said as she ate more of her meal. She looked at Archie. Every time she looked at him, it was like another layer of brilliance had been added that was making her develop feelings for him all over again. “It must be hard for you, having to deal with people like that day in, day out. I hear about people like this all the time in the news, but you have to endure it constantly. Does it not wear you down?”

“It’s just something that you have to get used to,” Archie said, but the question was making him think. “Believe it or not, when I first started, I was all about career progression, making my way up the ladder. But seeing the things I’ve seen, knowing what people are capable of doing to each other, you can’t shut that off in your head. Every time I feel like I know how bad people can get, they always end up being worse than I imagined.”

“Well, I think the service is better off from having people like you,” Susan said, reaching over and holding his hand, running a finger over his warm skin.

Archie smiled, enjoying that little comfort—and maybe the promise of something more.

Dean had surprised Liv for their Valentine’s Day. Liv had already made it clear she didn’t need to be dazzled with fancy jewellery, so instead, Dean had taken the sentimental route. He’d put together a memory box from their time together, including a photographic collage of all their pictures together, ticket stubs from the first concert they attended, and a playlist of all their favourite songs.

“He’s always been a bit of a romantic,” Dean’s mother Mariana insisted, looking on proudly as her son offered the gift.

Liv tried to keep her emotions in check as she looked over the gift. She always knew that Dean was the only man for her, but this just reinforced it. More and more, she found herself thinking of the future they’d have together—marriage, children. There were so many adventures ahead for them, and she was looking forward to every single one of them.

“We still set for August, then?” Liv asked, wanting to remind herself that it was actually happening and there’d be no going back.

“Absolutely. I’ve already got a few venues in mind, and I’m going to make sure we have all our friends and family there with us,” Dean declared, wrapping his arms around her, his touch both comforting and energising.

“You know you don’t have to indulge me like this,” Andrew said as he sat in the bar with Clara and Diana. “I get if you two want to spend some quality time with each other.”

Ever since his break with Dr Helen Pike—which was starting to look more and more like a full-blown split—Andrew had kept to himself for the most part. But Diana had suggested that he meet up with them for a drink.

“What makes you think I invited you out because I took pity on you?” she asked jokingly. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem picking up a girl with that silver tongue, and besides, I’ve barely seen you since you transferred to CID. I don’t want you forgetting me.”

“It’s true,” Clara admitted from across the table. “Her sense of humour has eroded since you stopped hanging out with her. I think she needs a funny bone transplant.”

“Well, I’m glad to be here,” Andrew said, happy to be in the company of his friends. If anything, it staved off his feelings about the end of his relationship with Helen.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt it was inevitable. She was nice, but they weren’t exactly well-matched. He wondered if the age gap had anything to do with it. She was at least fifteen years older than him with different life experiences. No, it wasn’t that. He’d knew plenty of partners with an age difference that still got on all right.

Andrew felt more and more like he was to blame for what’d happened. He realized he’d only seen Helen as a placeholder. Any future they might have had didn’t seem so thought out. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He wanted to have what Liv and Dean had, that deep sense of companionship. He knew that most people in the station would not think much of their breakup. Many of them had already written him off as a loveable sex maniac when he first arrived. He knew he shouldn’t rush it. If he was lucky, the right person would come along. He just didn’t know how long he’d have to wait.

But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on enjoying a good night out with Clara and Diana.

Liv steeled herself for the conversation she was about to have, having gone over in her head all the possible reactions Collins could give her, and hoping that she had responses planned for every single one of them.

“Everything okay, DI Austin?” Collins asked pleasantly, obviously in the middle of writing up some paperwork. “Got to say, well done on the Maddocks case. You really did a good job there. My wife is still beside herself. She’s currently contemplating whether to burn all her paperbacks.”

God, it’s like he wants to make this hard. Okay, come on, Liv. Just rip the band-aid off.

“Sir, there’s something I need to tell you,” she began, clearing her throat. “It’s about the witness who contacted us regarding her baby.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about being included in the suspect pool,” Collins joked, busying himself with his paperwork.

“I’ve been in contact with Katie Gibson,” she blurted out, the words sounding like one with the speed she spoke.

He looked up at her, the pen absentmindedly falling from his hand. “You’ve been speaking to her?” he asked softly, setting Liv on edge. It would have been easier if he’d started shouting at her. That’d been his usual response where Katie was concerned.

“We’ve met a few times,” Liv explained. “She’s been training as a private investigator. I know what you’re going to say, sir, and I understand your concerns over this. But I think she’s genuinely trying to change for the better.”

Collins sighed. “Olivia, you’re a good judge of character, and I’ve learned by now to trust your judgment. So, if you want to have any contact with her, that is your choice, but I would be careful about who you tell. To a lot of people in this office, she’s dead to them. Some of us are still trying to recover from the damage she inflicted. I’ve had management asking me how she managed to bluff the training, as though it’s our fault we didn’t see it sooner. I understand you feel you have an obligation to her, but I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

Okay, here goes. “The thing with the baby, she’s been looking into it for us.”

Collins’ face was still. “What?”

“She knows the bare minimum and is doing a bit of digging for us. Free of charge, of course,” she quickly added, as though the lack of cost was a huge bonus.

“I thought that after what happened last year, we weren’t going to have any private information ending up in that woman’s hands,” he stated. “And you’re giving her information that she could easily weaponise against us?”

“She’s not exactly got much of an audience anymore,” Liv reasoned, having thought out her justifications beforehand. “You really think people would take the words of a disgraced journalist? She can’t do anything with the information, but she can find out where it’s coming from. And let’s be honest, sir, we’ve already tried finding out for ourselves within the station. So far, we’ve got nothing. We can’t do any more digging without losing the trust of our colleagues and damaging morale. The baby’s mother is the one making the accusations, so she’s the one who we need to focus on. Once we’ve got a bit more information, we can start testing the validity of her claims. For all we know, it could be lies as part of a smear campaign.”

But Collins still needed convincing. “This is all highly irregular, Olivia. Are you sure your judgment hasn’t been coloured by…” He trailed off, hoping the point could be made non-verbally.

“By what?” Liv asked, daring to sound challenging.

“The fact that she saved your sister and your niece. I do understand. If she’d saved my family, I’d be feeling loyalty to her.”

It was true, Liv would always be inclined to give the former journalist the benefit of the doubt for that alone, but she didn’t want it to come across as the main reasoning. “I’ve done nothing wrong. My judgment is aboveboard and by the book.” That isn’t strictly true, but he doesn’t need to know that. “My focus is on getting to the bottom of these allegations. Now, if you feel that we can get to the bottom of this ourselves—or worst-case scenario, weather the storm in the media—then please say so now, and I’ll cease all contact with her.”

She knew exactly what to say to Collins, who sat in silence weighing it all up.

“This stays between you and me for now,” he instructed. “And I want to know every word that comes out of her mouth.”

“I promise you will be kept in the loop all the way.”

“And if this side investigation does happen to lead anywhere, I suggest we find another explanation for where it came from.”

She made it out of the office feeling mostly intact. She wasn’t too keen on lying to her colleagues, but they were all her close friends, and she didn’t want to risk seeing them dragged through the mud.

She walked out of the station, suddenly needing some air.

Her mobile went off and she could see it was Katie’s number, making her jump at the timing. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Did you tell Collins about me?”

“Yes, I did, and his reaction was what you’d expect, but I’ve still got a job, and he’s happy to go along with it as long as we keep it between ourselves. So, I think we’ve been sanctioned.”

“Well, that’s good to know. Hopefully, you won’t have to do it for much longer because I’ve found her.”

“You what?” Liv exclaimed, almost dropping the phone in surprise.

“Yes, she’s here in Newquay. Took a bit less time than I thought, but I was able to find her.”

“Do you have anything you can give me?” Liv asked impatiently. “A name?”

“That’s the catch,” the other woman said, sounding hesitant. “She says she wants to meet with you. Today. Alone.”

“You’re joking.” Olivia’s head was spinning from all the revelations.

“I can send you an address, but it has to be you, no one else.”

“Did she say why?” Why do I seem to attract all the weirdos in this place?

“She says she feels she can trust you and it’s easier having the discussion with another woman than one of the male officers.” Liv was sure there were more reasons than that. “Look at it like this, Liv. She’s not asking for money, which is what most shakedowns are all about, but she does want to have a discussion. If you turn around and say ‘no’, she’s going to disappear, and I doubt I’m going to find her again. So, what do I tell her?”

Liv considered her options, thinking of the reputations of her friends and the need to keep them out of harm’s way. In the end, the choice was obvious.

“Give me an hour and I’ll be there. And I want the full story.”

THE END

TO BE CONTINUED…

Find out more in Book Forty-Five here: Winner Takes All

DS NIKKI HARDING WILL RETURN IN HER OWN SERIES:

BOOK 1 - BLOOD LIKE WINE

RELEASE DATE COMING SOON!

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Winner Takes All - DI Austin Book Forty-Five

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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