AGAINST THE CLOCK

DI OLIVIA AUSTIN - BOOK FORTY-THREE

NIC ROBERTS

Copyright © 2025 by Nic Roberts

‘Against The Clock’

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 was supposed to be waiting for her boyfriend.

She walked through the streets of Newquay, breathing in the crisp winter air.

Twenty-twenty-five was going to be her year; she could just feel it.

She hadn’t settled for one New Year’s resolution. She’d made an entire list of things she was going to do in the next year. Get back into swimming, make more of an effort to see friends and family, be more assertive at work.

And maybe take her relationship to the next level.

It’d been a tough year, and she felt like she’d barely got through it by the skin of her teeth. But she could at least say that the worst was behind her.

She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to end the year in the same position she was in when it started.

She walked down the street to the cafe, knowing her boyfriend would be finishing up his shift. He’d promised to treat her to a late lunch.

She was nearly five minutes from the cafe when she heard the sound of screaming in the distance.

She whipped around in the direction of the noise.

Then she heard a screeching… It was a few minutes before her brain connected the noise with the screeching of tyres.

She saw a car appear at the far side of the road, literally spearing into view.

It turned a sharp corner and veered down the street.

She rolled her eyes, failing to understand why people felt the need to treat the streets of Newquay like a racecourse.

She braced herself for the car to whip past her.

But the car didn’t whip past her.

Instead, the car mounted the curb, and before she had time to react or even comprehend what was happening to her, the car rammed into her, sending her flying into the air.

She landed on the pavement in a broken heap. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the car disappeared down the street and out of sight.

She could hear her heart beating rapidly, as though it was trying to force itself to keep pumping blood through her body.

She was barely aware of the people crowding around her. She saw at least two people with their mobiles out, presumably calling an ambulance.

She looked up at the sky, which was starting to go white.

Her vision was fading, the straight lines of the world starting to blur together.

Then, he came rushing out to her. He must have heard something and was standing over her, stricken with panic and dread. She couldn’t hear him, but his face was telling her what she already knew. That she wasn’t long for this world.

She thought about that last New Year’s Eve, huddling together as the fireworks went off outside, his warm arms wrapped around her, overdoing it on the food and the chocolate, and thinking that no matter what challenges the new year would bring, they’d plough through it together. A whole year ahead of them…

It was a comforting thought, and it sustained her as the world around her started to darken.

1

Olivia Austin couldn’t help feeling like she was under suspicion.

Every move was being closely monitored, every word carefully analysed. This must be how it feels on the other side of the interrogation table.

She was preparing dinner alongside Dean’s mother, Mariana, a recipe that the older woman had brought over from Italy. She’d heard horror stories about prospective partners and their future in-laws. So far, Mariana hadn’t shown any signs that she was going to be a pain. In fact, she and Liv seemed to get on quite well with one another.

Liv knew much of the panic came from herself, having spent so long wondering if she was good enough for Dean.

She’d told Mariana everything about her past experiences—the disappearance of her brother, her relationship with Rhys, and everything that’d happened to her ever since coming to Newquay.

And Mariana hadn’t reacted with scorn. She’d welcomed Liv as though she were her own daughter. They’d had coffee together and shared life experiences, and Liv was full of admiration for the Italian-born woman, seeing exactly how she’d moulded Dean into the perfect man.

But she could tell there was something troubling the older woman in the way she seemed to flicker in pain and retreat to another room. She could see Mariana’s hand shaking and wondered what was happening. She’d come across alcoholics in her time in the early stages of withdrawal, going through the tremors. But she knew she couldn’t just come out and ask her future mother-in-law, ‘Are you an alcoholic?’

Liv didn’t know what to make of it. Especially with Dean about.

She noticed an energy in Dean, watching with joy as the two slipped into casual Italian. Even though it’d been a long time since she’d been a regular part of his life, they still slipped into sync so easily. It was good for Dean to have his mum back in his life.

One day, he’d taken Briggs out for a walk while Liv had been at home with Mariana.

She’d been preparing something for that night while Mariana had been in the guest bedroom when she heard the sound of crashing.

She rushed into the room and saw Mariana lying by the side of the bed, a table lamp having been knocked to the floor in her descent.

“You okay?” Liv asked as she rushed to help her up.

“I’m fine,” Mariana said, warding her off and lying on the bed.

It was then that she saw medications lined up on the bed, and she’d seen some of these treatments before…

“What the hell?” Liv exclaimed, unable to stop herself from reaching over and examining one of the packets.

“It’s not what you think,” Mariana insisted breathlessly, a hand on her chest.

Liv was kicking herself. She’s been living in my house for the past few weeks and I’m a bloody detective. How the hell didn’t I pick up on something like this?

“You can’t say anything to Deangelo,” Mariana pleaded.

“I don’t even know what this is,” Liv replied honestly, going to sit down in a chair opposite the woman. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to go through it alone. Is it…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the dreaded ‘C’ word.

“It was,” Mariana replied, placing extra emphasis on the second syllable. “Ovarian. But I got treatment for it, and it’s been in remission for the last three years. Any tablets I take are part of a precaution.”

Liv’s mind was whirling. She’d been in Newquay by then, seeing Dean walk into work, making polite conversation, clearly having no idea of the agony his mother must have been going through. “You didn’t say anything to Dean?”

“I didn’t want him to worry,” she responded indignantly, not wanting her decision challenged. “They caught it very early before it could do any real damage. I was lucky.”

“But once you started recovering, why didn’t you say anything to Dean?” Liv demanded, thinking about how her fiancé had been left in the dark.

“I hadn’t been a part of Deangelo’s day-to-day life for a long time. The last few weeks, getting to know the man my boy has become, meeting you, celebrating the festivities… it’s been a wonderful period in my life. It’s been a long time since I could enjoy some blissful time with my son.”

Liv thought about Dean’s abusive father, who’d made life hell for the family until Dean had beaten him within an inch of his life. “I still think he should have known…”

“Olivia, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I think I know you well enough to know that if you were feeling pain, you would rather soldier on in silence than confide in someone,” Mariana noted knowingly, her body starting to settle.

God, the woman is perceptive. And she’s right.

“If I had told Deangelo what had happened, it would’ve overshadowed everything. He would have fussed over me and assumed my days were numbered. And I didn’t want to spend this time made to feel like the bird with a broken wing,” she continued. “I have a clean bill of health, and most importantly, a second chance. Not just in life, but for a relationship with my son. And I don’t want this to be how he sees me.”

Liv felt torn. She didn’t want to have to lie to Dean. They made a point of not keeping secrets from each other.

But hearing the desperation in Mariana’s voice, how this was eating away at her, Liv didn’t know how she could possibly turn the woman down. She knew from her own experience how it felt to have her dirty laundry aired in public against her wishes.

“All right,” Liv agreed, figuring that Mariana might decide to tell Dean when she felt ready… otherwise, she’d have to hope that Dean never figured it out.

There was the sound of the door opening, and Liv instantly rushed out of the room to greet her partner who finished unclipping Briggs’ lead. He noticed Mariana coming out of her room behind Liv. “You two been up to much? Don’t want to feel like I’m missing out.”

You have no idea.

“How are you finding it, DC Shaw?” Liv asked as she walked into the CID office to see the newly branded Detective Constable Andrew Shaw standing to attention in the middle of an office. Damn, the man knows how to wear a suit.

“Well, I’m still waiting for the imposter syndrome to wear off,” he admitted humbly, relying on humour as his ever-present trademark, but clearly, self-doubt was seeping in.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve to be,” Liv insisted. Andrew was one of the most diligent officers she’d ever worked with, and she knew that he wasn’t standing in the office for the sake of career progression but because he felt that this was the place where he could have the most impact.

But he was clearly missing his partner, PC Diana Hershel. They’d worked together for several years, and when on duty, they were practically inseparable.

“So, what have you got for me today?” he asked, clapping his hands together, eager to get stuck into the nitty gritty.

“Calm down, mate,” Liv chortled, appreciating the enthusiasm. “No one’s expecting you to start tearing through Newquay. I think most people are probably working off those New Year hangovers. People are far too pissed to be causing any trouble.”

“So, I imagine we’ll be working closely together,” Andrew suggested as he helped himself to a desk. “I bet we’re both going to need a shoulder to cry on at some point.”

Liv smiled. Back when they’d been seeing each other casually, Andrew had been a major support, allowing her to work off the tension that would have otherwise overwhelmed her. Those first few months in Newquay had been a lot more bearable because of Andrew.

There was a part of her that wanted to tell him about her current dilemma, as she had done during the early days of Newquay. But she didn’t feel she could bomb him with her own issues so soon after him starting at CID.

Suddenly, Andrew’s mobile phone started ringing, and he smiled as Diana’s number flashed onto the screen. “You’re not missing me already, are you?”

“You might want to get Liv down here,” she declared in a panicked tone. “There’s been a hit and run.”

2

“You don’t think Archie’s going to mind me tagging along in his place?” Andrew asked, settling into the passenger seat usually occupied by Liv’s partner, Archie Elmhurst.

“Oh, he’ll understand you need the experience,” she noted as she drove through traffic. “And I’m sure he’ll be glad for the break from me.”

They made their way through the streets until they came to a road that had a crowd of people forming a circle. Liv could see the police car that would have transported PC Diana Hershel and her new partner, but she figured Diana would be having a lot of trouble with crowd control. She exited the car and started to move through the crowd. “Okay, back up people! Unless anyone actually saw what happened, give us some space!” 

After what felt like several minutes of forcing their way through the rabble, Liv made it to the centre of the crowd and was taken aback by what she saw.

A young woman was lying on the ground, half of her broken body positioned on the pavement and her legs in the road. Liv held a hand over her mouth as she could see the flattened imprint on the woman’s chest.

“Do we know anything about the victim?” Liv asked a uniformed officer who was clearly knew. He was a young man with close-cropped black hair.

“Sorry, ma’am, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” He held out his hand politely. “PC Nick Hartman…”

“Constable, perhaps we can save the intros for when we aren’t being surrounded on all sides by a stampede of spectators?” Liv asked rhetorically, struggling to keep the agitation out of her voice.

“Of course,” Nick replied and started making a show of forcing the crowd to back away to give them some space.

“Bit harsh, wasn’t it?” Andrew asked gently. “They’re not all like Katie.”

She knew he was right. A few months ago, one of their newest recruits, PC Katie Gibson, had been revealed as an undercover journalist. Even since her exposure, Liv had had a hard time trusting new recruits, never sure if they were hiding something beneath the surface. But still, it wasn’t fair to take it out on the new kid.

“Does anyone know who she is?” Liv asked, feeling that she owed it to each of her victims to give them a name, to force herself and everyone around her to remember that this was a person with hopes and dreams, rather than the slab of meat that everyone would come to know her as.

No one answered the question. It frustrated Liv that people could be bothered to crowd around the woman and gawp, but they couldn’t be arsed to find out her name.

“Her boyfriend came out to see her,” one of them said, looking increasingly disinterested. “He’s just over there. They had to pull him off of her.”

He pointed to the far end of the street. There was a young man in his mid-twenties with patches of stubble on his face, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His face was marked with flecks of blood. Liv momentarily wondered if he could have had anything to do with it. It’s usually the boyfriend. “Did anyone see what happened?”

“The car just came out of nowhere,” one person replied, a statement that Liv had heard several times over, and frankly, didn’t really get her anywhere. But then they followed it up with, “It’s like they were trying to hit her.”

Now that’s a new one. “What do you mean, ‘trying to hit her’?”

“It could have just sped right past and easily avoided her,” the onlooker continued. “But it drove straight onto the pavement where she was and hit her at high speed.”

Liv was surprised. With most hit and runs, it was usually an out-of-control driver who’d had a few too many drinks and wasn’t paying enough attention to the road or the people. But this… this felt direct. She wasn’t sure if she could make a case for premeditated. How could the driver have known she’d be there? But still…

“Did anyone manage to get a look at the driver?” she asked, wondering if it might be someone in the young woman’s personal life.

“We didn’t see anything,” one replied as though speaking for all of them. “It all happened so fast.”

Deciding that there wasn’t much more she could get from the onlookers, Liv waited for the forensics team to arrive and for Sam to start working her magic before she made her way through the dispersing crowd towards the young man.

He was shaking all over, and Liv wondered whether he’d need to go off in the ambulance himself. PC Diana Hershel was sat next to him, trying to keep a safe distance but ready to spring into comfort mode, if necessary.

“You’re going to be all right, Ross,” Diana offered gently, shooting a look at Liv. “Listen, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She got up and moved away to speak with Liv. “His name’s Ross, twenty-two years old. Works in the local coffee shop. The victim’s name is Maddie Hughes, and they are the same age. They’ve been together for three years now, since college.”

“Shit. Were they close?” Young romances always had heightened emotions.

“Very much so. He’s devastated by her death,” the PC explained. “I’ve tried to get more out of him, but he keeps saying over and over, ‘This was meant to be our year.’”

Liv’s heart sank. It was cruel that the new year would start off with such tragedy and would loom over the young man’s life for the next twelve months. And whenever he looked back on the New Year period, he’d always have that memory in his head.

“Ross?” Liv asked kindly, crouching down in front of him. “My name is DI Austin. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know it’s been quite horrible for you, but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about what happened. Do you think you’d be up to that?” Ideally, she wanted to give him time to recover, but she knew she needed to get as much detail as possible while it was all fresh in his mind.

“Sure, whatever I can do to help,” he responded numbly, unable to meet her eyes.

“Did you get a look at the driver?” she asked.

“No. I came out of the shop after it’d all kicked off. I thought it was an accident… and then someone told me they’d actually tried to hit her. Why?” Now he looked up at her, heartbroken. “She was a wonderful person. She worked for a local charity. Was always focused on helping people. No one ever had a bad word to say about her. I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want her dead.”

Liv tried not to raise an eyebrow. In her experience, there were often plenty of reasons why one would want someone dead. No one’s a saint these days.

“So, she hasn’t received any threats or harassment?” the inspector continued, sure that Maddie must have been targeted specifically.

“Of course not. She started the new year in good spirits. We both did,” he exclaimed angrily. “Rather than waste all this time questioning my girlfriend’s character, maybe you can get out there and find the bastard who did this!”

She was taken back by his reaction. “You’re right, Ross, and I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand why someone would commit such a senseless crime. If the driver had just stuck to the road, we could have assumed this was a normal hit-and-run. But because it sounds like he went out of his way to hit her, we have to consider the possibility that this was a targeted attack. No matter how unpleasant that might sound. And we wouldn’t be doing out job if we didn’t consider all avenues.”

Ross nodded his head in reluctant agreement. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Now, do you know what the make of the car is?” she asked, taking out her pocketbook and pen.

“I was told it’s a Peugeot, silver. I think it’s an SUV. I’m no expert on car models,” he explained, frustrated with the question.

“Okay, and can you give us the license plate?” she continued, listening to every word and letter. “Thank you very much for that, Ross. I won’t keep you any longer. With any luck, we’ll be able to run this through the system and see about the owner. You go home and rest up, and we’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”

On paper, it sounded like an easy case that would be resolved before the day’s end, hopefully revealing the work of a senseless and selfish driver rather than a chilling murderer.

3

An hour later, Liv and Andrew stood in the pathologist’s office listening to Dr Elliot James go through the results of the post-mortem.

“The chest took the brunt of the impact,” Elliot explained, looking over his notes with a weary eye. Liv wondered if he’d been worn down by all the ways in which a person could die. “Suffered multiple fractures which pierced vital organs including the heart and one of the kidneys.” He cleared his throat. “Even if the ambulance had managed to get to her on time, she still would have died from internal bleeding.”

Liv could only hope that her suffering was all too brief.

“Were there any other findings of note?” Liv asked, looking to Andrew. She wasn’t sure how many of these facts would be relevant to the case, but she wanted to make sure he was picking up on all the details before deciding which ones would be relevant later.

“Nothing that I could see,” Dr James commented. “No distinguishing features, nothing missing. Just feels like a blatant hit-and-run.”

“I'm getting really tired of hearing that,” Liv snapped, prompting quizzical looks from the two men. “Sorry, guys, still a little run down. A week into the new year, and already someone is stirring up shit. It's like they can’t give us a fucking break.” She wondered if it was down to the sudden strain of keeping Mariana’s secret.

“I’m not worried,” Elliot commented assuredly. “But I'm feeling a little put out by such a senseless crime. Only twenty-two years old. That's no age to die.”

Liv watched as Andrew's throat looked restricted, wondering if the weight of the incident was getting to him. He’d been a serving police officer for several years now and had seen more than his fair share of horrific crimes. But Liv knew that in CID, you were more likely to come across the crimes that stayed with you.

Whether this would be one of those crimes, she didn’t know. Yet.

Later, the pair were sat behind Clara, who was busy typing away at her workstation, having taken onboard all the information the two had provided and would hopefully reveal some positive results.

“That can’t have been easy,” Clara noted as she brought up the footage. Any hope that the death might have been an accident was struck down as the car rammed Maddie into the air.

“I tell you something else, too,” Andrew added. “I remember back at the scene, there were no skid marks. So, this guy knew he was about to hit a passerby and didn't think to apply the brakes. Not only that, but after he'd hit her, he didn't stop to check on her, just drove off. Like it was mission accomplished.”

“Which means that when we present this to the CPS, we can make a solid case for murder in case the fucker tries to weasel out on a manslaughter plea,” Olivia confirmed, having looked on at Andrew's reasoning with admiration. He definitely has all the makings of a great detective.

Liv looked closely at the frozen image of the driver, which was mostly obscured. It was the clearest shot they had of the killer and was captured just before the impact. Liv would have liked to have seen his expression as he collided with another human being. Had he been shocked? Remorseful? Elated?

“I don't suppose there's any way you can enhance the image? Zoom in, maybe?” she asked, daring to sound hopeful.

“Not unless you want to up our budget and software,” Clara chirped sardonically. “Of course, there’s the old tried and tested method of running the plate through the system.”

“I've spoken to PC Hershel, and she is already on it,” Andrew noted, just as his phone started buzzing. “Speak of the devil.” He answered the phone. “Diana, please tell me you've got something good for me.” He put the phone on speaker so everyone else could listen in.

“Well, I ran the plate through the system, and we managed to trace it back to a man called Fred Clark. He works as a dentist,” Diana explained.

“Does the Hippocratic Oath extend to dentists, or is it just doctors?” Clara quipped. Despite the severity of the situation, the sound of her wife’s voice always brought a smile to the technician’s face.

“Well, we questioned him in connection to the death…” Diana continued, her voice showing no signs of triumph. “But he knew nothing about any hit-and-run. In fact, he'd reported his car stolen earlier that morning. So, when we turned up on his doorstep, he assumed we were bringing it back to him.”

Olivia's face was caught in a frustrated grimace. “There's no chance it was a double bluff? He takes the car and then bullshits us its stolen and gives himself an alibi?”

“Believe me, we thought about that too,” Diana noted. “But we had a look up and down the street he lived on. No sign of a bust-up car, which you've got to admit, would normally stick out like a sore thumb. And we checked, but he doesn't have the keys either. We also accessed the police report he made which backs up his statement.”

“What time did he make the report that morning?” Liv asked, waiting to be sure.

“8:47 am,” the young PC responded.

“And the collision occurred at 9:14 am,” Clara added, perfectly in sync with her wife.

“So that's a twenty-seven-minute window between the car being reported stolen and Maddie dying,” Liv continued.

“And that's assuming the car hadn't been nicked before Mr Clark had noticed it was missing,” Andrew concluded. “Which means it's not likely he's going to steal his own car and then report It stolen.”

So, we're down one possible suspect. “I still want to talk to him at some point,” Liv declared decisively.

“I should warn you, he's probably not going to be in the best of moods,” Diana cautioned. “He seemed pretty pissed off that we turned up on his doorstep without his car.

“I don’t give a fuck if we’ve turned his whole day upside down,” Liv snapped, the boyfriend’s distress clear in her mind. “A woman has died for no fucking reason. Forgive me if I’m not shedding any tears over his grand theft auto.”

She seemed to be unable to explode at people that day, but she knew she couldn’t keep it up. She was lucky that so far her outbursts had been limited to her colleagues and friends who understood her struggles. If she exploded in front of a suspect, as was a possibility, a complaint would soon be landing on Collins’ desk.

“Sorry, Diana, I know you’re doing your best. Well done on finding out what you have. We’ll see if it all adds up,” she decided, which Andrew took as a sign to end the call.

“So, we know that it’s not going to be the owner,” Clara noted, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

“Are we sure that’s the same car?” Andrew asked, his mind racing with possibilities, as he wished he’d cleared it with Diana beforehand. “You don’t think it’s possible that he could have attached fake plates?”

“Would be a very narrow window to get plates sorted,” Liv observed, turning back to Clara. “I don’t suppose you’ve been able to work out a route for the car? Both before and after the incident? Maybe give us an idea of where he’s headed”.

“He pops up on some of the cameras,” Clara observed. “There’s a few of him making his way through the town centre. I think you’ll need to check that Mr Clark has an alibi for the morning…” She continued looking at the footage. “I’ve got to say, this guy is not kidding around. He makes a show of appearing on the traffic cameras in the minutes leading up to the collision, but after that, he appears sparingly. It’s almost as if he knew exactly where the cameras were and what to avoid.”

“Implying he would have scoped out the area beforehand,” Liv suggested before quickly adding, “All of this, just for the sake of a joy ride and a murder? Feels like a lot of effort to put into it.”

“Well, for all we know, he could have fucked off outside of Newquay,” Andrew began before his phone buzzed from an alert from Diana. “Oh, shit… it looks like they’ve found the car, but you’re not going to like the state it’s in.”

“Just tell me where it is,” Liv commanded, sounding increasingly agitated.

4

By the time Liv and her team had arrived at the vehicle, the fire had been out for nearly half an hour.

The car had been found at an old scrapyard and had been reduced to a burnt-out husk, taking Liv’s hopes of finding a suspect up in literal smoke. She’d held onto the briefest of hopes that maybe it wasn’t the same car, that it’d been another car that’d been driven into the remote scrapyard and set alight. But when she saw the matching number plate, she knew this was the end of the trail.

The metal was twisted and charred. The inside was scorched and devoid of colour, the scent of burning leather filling Liv’s nostrils. The windows were smashed, and the doors wouldn’t open properly on account of the distortion from the heat.

The forensic team weren’t too far off, but Liv wasn’t feeling optimistic. If only we’d caught onto it sooner.

Andrew sniffed the inside. “Petrol… He must have torched the car once he was done with it. The crafty bastard knew that we’d probably find it.”

“Careful, Duracell, you’re starting to sound like you admire him,” Liv cautioned. “All this means is that the man is very good at blocking us off from a possible chain of evidence.”

When the forensics arrived, Sam’s face fell as she faced the enormity of the task ahead of her. “I think you overestimate my skills as a forensic coordinator if you honestly expect me to pull something tangible from this hunk of metal.”

“Well, until we have any more leads to go on, it’s the best we’ve got.” Liv was tempted to get in there and start fishing for evidence herself but wasn’t sure what she’d be looking for or what she could use. She looked at a charred piece of plastic that might have been a wallet, knowing that anything they presented could get laughed out of court.

She looked in the backseat of the car and saw an empty petrol can inside along with what might have been a few items of clothing, but it was hard to tell.

As the forensic officers swarmed the car, Liv stepped back to allow them to do their job. She turned to Andrew, who was standing there, unsure what to do. “I think you and I need to have a word with Mr Clark to clear up a few facts.”

“Well, did you find my car?” Fred Clark was an average-looking man in his fifties with just a whiff of hair left on his balding head. His glasses seemed to magnify his eyes. Liv could imagine years from now, he’d be known as the grouchy old neighbour everyone tried to avoid. He was pacing up and down in his living room, red-faced.

“Well, we found your car,” Liv responded slowly and carefully, feeling like she was about to set off a volcanic eruption.

“Well, why haven’t you brought it back?” he demanded, clearly used to people jumping to attention when he demanded it.

“Because it seems the original thief torched it,” Andrew stated, growing frustrated with the man’s attitude.

“You’re fucking kidding me!?” Fred asked, halting in his steps, and Liv was sure that if the thief were standing in the living room right that moment, Mr Clark would have no trouble strangling the life from him.

“Do you have any insurance?” Andrew asked, unsure what comfort he could offer for the irate man.

“Insurance!? And what kind of claim do I make? My car has been demolished!” he continued, irate. “How am I supposed to get out and about for work and shopping?”

“Mr Clark, while I sympathise with your situation,” Liv began, hoping that she was putting on her best ‘sorry’ voice, “the car was used to kill a young woman earlier today. We believe that the car was destroyed to remove any link to the driver. Now, we need you to work with us so that we can find the person responsible for stealing your car.” She figured he’d be more likely to respond if she appealed to his frustration over the car rather than the tragic loss of a young woman.

“Well, if it helps you get them banged up,” he snapped, finally sitting down. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Okay,” Liv began, taking a seat to give the impression they’d be there for some time. “Why don’t we start off with asking if you know anyone who has a grudge against you?”

Mr Clark looked at the two blankly. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“Well, we’re assuming that these are professional car thieves. So, of all the cars they could have stolen, they chose yours. Now, there are normally a lot of opportunistic factors involved. They might have noticed relaxed security measures. They might have seen the value of stealing such a car… or they might have known you as a previous acquaintance and known exactly how to swipe it.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” the man exclaimed, not seeing the point in going through the reasoning. “I barely interact with anyone as it is.”

You’re not a people person? Now that I can believe. “It could be, Mr Clark, that it was just a coincidence. It didn’t have to be your car; it could have been yours or any of the other cars parked out there. They probably didn’t go looking for you, just… looked at the street,” she suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Either way,” Andrew chimed in, trying to contribute to the conversation. “We need to rule out that this could have been a personally motivated theft, so we need to ask a few questions about people in your life who might have had the opportunity.”

“Fair enough.” Fred sighed impatiently, and the detectives figured they only had a matter of time before he shooed them out of the house.

“I take it you’re the only person who might have access to the keys?” Andrew asked, jotting down everything.

“Of course, I am,” the man answered shortly. “Car that expensive, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”

“No one you took to get it validated… No one you might have lent it to?” Andrew asked, tapping his pen against the pad.

“No!” he insisted angrily. “How many times do I have to go over it?”

“Okay, so that narrows down the opportunities to steal the keys,” Liv noted, moving on to the next topic. “Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?” She was tempted to add ‘anyone you might have pissed off,’ but then they’d be there all day.

“Maybe people at work,” he suggested. “They always get jealous when I get promoted ahead of them. There are a couple of kids who hang about a few streets up. They might have had something to do with it.”

“And how old are these kids?” Andrew asked knowingly.

“Fourteen,” he muttered, suddenly sheepish.

“I think we’re looking for somebody a bit older than that,” Liv suggested.

“But you aren’t, are you?” he growled. “Instead of being out there looking for it, you’re in here digging up all this shit on my personal life.”

“Mr Clark,” Liv started, in a voice that set Andrew on edge. “You seem to be under the impression that we’re looking for a car thief. But I feel I have to remind you that we’re also looking for a murderer. And after I’m done here, I’ve got to drive to the victim’s next of kin and explain to them that we haven’t been able to find the man who killed their partner. Which conversation do you think is going to be the hardest to have?”

Mr Clark had enough decency to shrink back from the words. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Clark,” Andrew offered, trying to end the conversation on a positive note. “We’ll be in touch when we can find out anything else.”

Once they’d left the house, Andrew started talking in an authoritative tone that went far beyond his rank before Liv could get a word in. “Here’s what I think needs to happen. Before you get back to the station, you and I need to have a little chat about what’s bothering you, so that at the very least, you can let off some steam.”

“May I remind you that you’re talking to your superior officer?” Liv barked.

“And may I remind you that I’m talking to you as a friend?” he answered, prompting her to look ashamed. He was right. She couldn’t carry on like this.

5

“Shit,” Andrew murmured as Liv stared into the coffee he’d brought her. “No offence, but I do not envy you.”

“Thanks for that,” she muttered, looking around the cafe just on the off chance that somebody else might have heard them. “Thank God you’re not a doctor because your bedside manner could really use some work.”

“I knew something was bothering you when you were snapping at everybody’s heels,” Andrew muttered, drinking his own latte.

Liv thought it’d be difficult to unburden herself from the truth of Mariana’s condition, but as far as Andrew was concerned, all of the relevant facts rolled off her tongue so easily.

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s in remission? There’s no risk of a relapse?” Andrew asked, wanting to be sure.

“As far as she’s concerned, she’s been out of the danger zone for a few years now and wants to focus on spending time with her son,” Liv outlined, suddenly throwing her hands up in the air. “I can’t lie to Dean. We’ve been through that whole process of keeping secrets from each other, and we’ve both suffered because of it. We promised each other no more secrets.”

“Yeah, and for what it’s worth, you shouldn’t be keeping shit from Dean,” he replied bluntly. “But this isn’t about some old fling you had in the past. This is about his mum’s health. And there is a chance that if he finds out about it—and that you knew—I don’t know how he’d react.”

“So, you’re saying I should tell Dean?” Liv asked, wishing that Andrew would just tell her what to do.

“I didn’t say that,” he responded. “At the end of the day, it’s her body and her health. It shouldn’t be down to you or even Dean what she does with it. The choice should be hers. If it were you in her position, would you want somebody taking that choice from you?”

They both knew the answer to that question. Liv would rather keep everybody in the dark than let anyone know.

“The best thing you can do for her is keep her confidence, and if her health takes a turn for the worse for whatever reason, then you think about having the conversation. But until then, you need to keep schtum…” He paused, breaking off into a slight smile. “At the very least, it should earn you some brownie points from her, and she’ll be less likely to step into the role of ‘interfering mother-in-law’.”

Liv smiled. He always knew how to put a smile on her face. Even though they were no longer together, Andrew Shaw was still one of the bright lights in her life.

“Don’t ever leave my life, Andrew,” she insisted, holding his hand.

Once they were back at the station, they started going through all the evidence that they’d collated, including everything from the burnt car.

They’d held out some hope that witnesses might come forward and say something about someone setting the car on fire before abandoning it, but so far, no one had come forward, to Liv’s endless frustration.

“I looked over everything,” Sam explained. “A crowbar, a weapon, anything…”

“I think it was established that the car was the weapon,” Liv commented angrily.

“We’ve tried going over the steering wheel for fingerprints, but so far nothing,” she replied sadly. “Either wiped clean or lost in the fire. We did find some clothes in the back. Sustained a lot of damage, but we’ll see if we can work out what they were and if there’s any DNA we can lift.”

“And how long is that going to take?” Liv asked impatiently.

“A day or two, give or take,” the lead forensic coordinator muttered. “Should have something by then.”

But for all I know, I’m going to be sitting on my arse just to be told we’ve got nothing.

“Maybe you should go home and get some rest, DI Austin,” Superintendent Collins suggested kindly. “It’s been a long day, and I’m sure no one was expected to be thrown headfirst into a case like this so soon into the new year.”

“Sir, whoever did this torched the car and walked back to their old life like nothing had happened,” she retorted. “Meanwhile, Maddie’s family are left to pick up the pieces. And this is going to end up being one of those unsolved cases that everyone speculates over.”

“I’m aware,” Collins assured her. “I’m not going to try dissuading you from the case. I know you’re like a dog with a bone.”

You couldn’t have found a more appropriate analogy, guv?

“I know you will solve the case. I know better than to question your abilities. But you can’t do that if you’re knackered,” he continued, making an effort to be gentle. I wonder how gentle he’d be if he knew about my mini outburst at Fred Clark.

“DI Austin!” the new PC, Nick Hartman, rushed up to her. “Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve got a Ross Dawson waiting downstairs. He’s not going anywhere until he sees you.”

Liv wondered if there was ever such a time when a police officer gave instruction and the public obeyed without questioning it. She made her way down the stairs, coming into the reception area where the Christmas decorations were still hanging.

Ross was sitting in the reception, his eyes bloodshot.

“Mr Dawson,” she began, but he waved away a hand.

“I don’t need apologies or for you to ask me how well I’m doing. All I want is to know what’s being done to find the man who killed Maddie.”

“Why don’t we talk in one of the spare rooms?” she offered, and he grunted in response but went anyway. “We’ve managed to find the car that was used, but it was destroyed, presumably to get rid of any traces of evidence.”

“Great, so basically you’ve got nothing,” Ross replied, clenching his fists. “That guy just picks up where he left off and gets away with killing my girlfriend.”

“I promise you, he is not going to get away with this,” she insisted, though she instantly chided herself for offering something she wasn’t sure she could deliver on. “Is there anything more you can tell me about Maddie?”

“She was one of the warmest people I knew,” Ross said, calming down as he reminisced over fond memories. “She was a very giving person who lit up a room whenever she walked into it. At the charity she works at, supporting disabled kids, we had a few arguments about the number of hours she spent working there. But I went to see her one day and she was helping a child who was on crutches, and she was clearly in her element. She wanted to help people and make a big difference.”

“She sounds like a very special person,” Liv offered kindly. More often than not, she’d work cases that peeled back the layers of people, revealing all kinds of unsavoury traits. She’d dealt with people like that for so long, it was easy to forget what sincerity looked like. But by all accounts, Maddie had been a kind and gentle soul… which made the circumstances surrounding her death seem all the more cruel.

“I spoke to her parents earlier today to tell them what happened,” Ross explained, and it was clear the weight of that meeting was coming down on him in full force. “They didn’t want to believe it was her, that it was just some other woman. But once they stopped denying that, they started blaming me, telling me I should have been there, that I should have done more to protect her.” He held his head in his hands at the constant condemnation clearly rattling around in his head.

“Just to be clear, that’s just the grief talking,” Liv assured him. “They don’t really mean it; they’re just angry. But once they’ve calmed down, they’ll see there was nothing you could have done. It all happened so quickly, there was nothing anyone could have done.”

“I only saw her this morning,” he started, breaking down into sobs. “She said we were going to go out somewhere and talk about next steps for us both, and now none of that is going to happen.”

Liv had no words of comfort to offer, as she knew all too well what it was like to lose a partner and lose not just that life but the life they were going to build together.

It only made her all the more determined to find the person responsible.

6

Andrew got in feeling exhausted from the events of the day. He wondered if all the days were going to be like that, navigating an investigation like a pressure cooker. He wondered how Liv had coped with it for all that time.

He took off his jacket and made his way into the study where his partner, Dr Helen Pike, was hard at work in the study, typing away at her computer. She must have been there all day, and yet her fingers continued to work with such a manic energy that Andrew thought she must be possessed.

“How was CID?” she asked without taking her eyes off the keyboard.

“Well, I’ve made it through the day in one piece, thankfully,” he remarked, trying to brush off the strain of the day. “How’s the book coming?”

For the last few weeks, Helen had been toiling away at writing a book on all of her experiences as a psychiatrist and incorporating some of her own theories about criminal behaviour. It was a major passion project of hers to the point that she’d locked herself away for the better part of a few months, barely coming out for anything else.

“How’s the book coming?” he asked again when she didn’t appear to hear him, conscious of how much it was eating into their time together. In the moments he did spend with her, she was too exhausted to properly engage with him.

“If I’m very lucky, I’ll have it done before the end of the month,” she responded, which felt like a subtle way of saying ‘as long as I’m not disturbed’.

Andrew felt like they were both moving forward to the next steps of their lives, but he wondered if that was going to be together…

Rather than head straight back home to Dean, Liv decided to spend some time building up a reasonable poker face, so she’d gone to visit her sister Mills and see how she was getting on with her three-month-old baby Annie, who’d just had her first Christmas—not that she was likely to remember it.

“So, have you made any New Year’s resolutions?” Liv asked as the two sat in the back garden sharing a bottle of wine, watching Annie making the early attempts of a crawl.

“Well, I think I’m definitely going to cut back on some of the snacks,” Mills replied, patting her stomach with her free hand.

“Well, you’ve spent the bulk of last year pregnant, so I don’t think anyone’s going to give you too much grief over it,” Liv joked, feeling relaxed.

“So, is this going to be the year when you and Dean finally tie the knot?” Mills asked, sending a hot flush rushing through Liv at the mention of his name. She’d hoped that she could visit her sister without having the worry of thinking about Dean and her dilemma. Andrew had given her sound advice, but that didn’t stop her from fretting.

“We’re working on it,” she replied, feeling that 2025 was going to be their year. When their relationship first started, it felt like they were struggling to move on from the trauma of previous relationships, but she’d told herself that now was the time for living.

“I’ve heard that Alex and Tara are thinking of tying the knot,” Mills noted, prompting Liv to nearly spit out her drink.

“Alex is getting married?” she exclaimed. The two seemed happy enough, but they’d been dating for only a year, and they’d already had a few stumbling blocks—not helped by Liv once accusing Tara of being a suspect in a murder investigation in April the previous year.

“He’s not done the whole ‘get down on one knee’, but he’s definitely talked to me about it,” Mills told her, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Are they both ready for it?” Liv didn’t want to put a downer on the idea, but of all the things Mills was going to tell her, their brother becoming a married man was not on the top of the list. They’re barely out of the honeymoon phase.

“I don’t think anyone’s really ready for marriage,” her sister replied. “I think all that matters is that you do your best when the moment comes. And the two are really loved up.”

“But what about…” Liv paused, struggling to find the right words without offending anyone. “What about their issues?” Both people were carrying baggage, Alex having integrated himself back into day-to-day life after spending half his life under the fray of a demented cult and Tara having struggled with mental illness for much of her life.

“Firstly, I don’t think you’re really in a position to be judging people’s baggage,” Mills chided gently. “Secondly, Alex has spent the better part of two years in recovery mode. He’s always going to have a reminder of his past experiences, and after what happened with his old teacher… it really threw him.”

Liv thought about the secondary school teacher who’d engaged in an inappropriate sexual relationship with Alex when he was still underage, a relationship that’d resulted in the birth of Alex’s son Daniel. The predator had since tried to wheedle her way back into Liv’s life but had been murdered three months prior. With only the smallest amount of regret, all throughout the investigation the only two words going through Liv’s head were ‘good riddance’.

“It made him realise that he’s spent all this time trying to move on from what happened to him,” Mills said. “And I think he’s at the point where he wants to have something to look forward to, a life away from all the shit he’s had to wade through.”

“Well, I guess I can’t really begrudge him that.” Liv sighed, having seen how draining the path to his recovery had been.

“Anyway, nothing is confirmed yet,” Mills quickly added, aware that Liv had a wedding of her own coming up. “But it’s good that he’s at least thinking about next steps.”

He made his way back home from the pub feeling worse for wear.

He should have bundled himself into a taxi. Would have been the smart thing to do when he had seven pints sloshing around inside him. But he felt fairly claustrophobic at the idea of piling into a taxi with three other people, and his house was only a fifteen-minute walk away.

He forced his hands into his pockets, feeling the chill nipping away at him.

He’d made it away from the main shopping centre and was now on one of the more isolated stretches of Newquay. He often felt nervous walking through this area, feeling like he was about to be mugged. But the fears had subsided over the years, and he knew nothing was likely to happen to him.

As he walked, he was suddenly aware of a bright light coming from across the road.

He looked down the street and saw a lone car parked at the far end of the road. It was hard to tell what the make of the car was, as he was blinded by its lights. He also couldn’t get a look at the driver. Was it a taxi?

It seemed to just be sitting there with no indication of moving forward. There was something eerie about the car’s stillness.

He found himself walking towards it, curiosity getting the better of him.

Suddenly, the engine revved to life, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

He expected it to turn off the pavement and pull away, but instead, it remained on the pavement, moving slowly at first, but picking up speed very quickly.

It was then he realised the car was coming straight towards him.

He tried to run away, but he only ended up stumbling back in his haze, spraining his ankle. He tried to crawl away, even as he could tell the car was almost upon him.

He disappeared beneath the vehicle, and when he emerged from underneath it, he was bloody and struggled to gasp for air, the result of a punctured lung.

The occupant of the car didn’t stop to check on the damage done. It simply tore through the streets of Newquay, seamlessly blending in with the other cars, and no one was close enough to recognise the dented bonnet and the carnage that’d been left in its wake.

The car wasn’t quite able to dodge all the security cameras but was able to lend itself a certain stealth. Nobody would realise what’d happened before the morning, least of all the original owner of the car.

The scrapyard was not an option this time around. They’d have to make do with another location, one that would allow them to remove all traces of evidence.

Within the hour, the car was aflame, and all traces of the crime were burned away. It’d been smart to act in the evening. It’d be a few hours before the town woke up to the carnage that’d unfolded that night. They knew the police would not give up the case so easily but were confident they’d have nothing to go on.

7

Liv had taken Andrew’s words to heart and decided that Mariana should decide when to tell Dean about her previous cancer. For her part, Mariana looked a little guilty at forcing Liv into the role of secret keeper, and Liv could only hope this wouldn’t implode.

She was still unable to get her head around the Maddie Hughes case. It felt like a senseless crime. There was nothing in her personal life to indicate that anyone harboured a grudge against her or had been planning to kill her. But Liv’s biggest fear was that the killer would walk away from it confident in their own superiority. She’d played the footage over and over in her head, and though she hadn’t seen the killer’s face, she could imagine what was racing through their head. To kill someone and to get away with it would make them feel bulletproof… like a god, and Liv was determined to shatter their god complex.

She only hoped the trail hadn’t gone cold as she headed into work that morning. Every day without a lead meant the killer was likelier to get away. In the car, her phone rang, and she was surprised to see Andrew’s number come up. The man’s definitely alert.

“Got something new for me, Duracell?” she asked, fingers crossed.

“Actually…” Andrew paused, and every passing second filled Liv with dread. “We’ve got another body, Liv. Another hit-and-run.”

Liv didn’t say anything at first, still trying to process it all. “You fucking kidding me?”

“Some guy who was walking back from a night out at the pub. Car caught him on a deserted road. Chest was caved in.” That explained Andrew’s dry throat as he spoke. “I’m already down there and have set up a scene log. How soon can you get down here?”

“Any idea what kind of car it was?” she asked, trying not to sound desperate.

“No one saw anything. The incident took place last night with nobody else around,” he replied to her disappointment. “Liv, you don’t think this could be the same…”

“Haven’t seen the scene for myself, but it’s the second hit-and-run in as many days where the driver fucks off straight after making a point of killing the victim,” she answered shortly. “While it’s not wise to assume, in this instance, I think it’s pretty safe.” She sighed, imagining the killer giving her the finger from some unknown location. “I’ll be there soon.”

Her car pulled up next to the crime scene. Thankfully, there weren’t as many people to ward away as there had been at the previous scene. She got out the car and made her way towards the body, the crime scene photographers surrounding it. “Oh, Jesus,” she murmured, covering her throat with her hand.

Looking back, she felt that Maddie Hughes had almost been lucky to go over the car and die mostly intact. The man on the ground hadn’t been so lucky, having gone under the car, and his chest looked like it’d exploded from the impact.

“Do we have any idea who he is?” Liv asked, wondering if he had a family who was still waiting for him to come home.

“His name’s Jack Abbott,” Andrew replied, holding up a driver’s license with a gloved hand. “He’s a local electrician. Runs his own business.” The younger detective’s face fell. “He had a family too.” He pulled out a photograph of the man with a woman and two small children. He stuffed the photo back into the wallet. “I just don’t see the point.”

“Is there anything else we might know about him?” Liv asked, figuring there must be some reason why someone would choose to end this man’s life in such a gruesome fashion.

“I’ve asked DS Harris to run his name through CID back at the station,” he responded. “Apparently, he had a conviction about six years ago for driving under the influence, which he held his hands up to. Not exactly a good reason to kill someone.”

“There’s no such thing as a good reason for murder,” Liv retorted.

She tried to think about the previous case they’d just dealt with. Though she wouldn’t admit it, if there was a pattern that they could find amongst the killings, then maybe they could exploit a connection. “Is there any CCTV we can check out?”

“I’ve spoken with Clara about checking out all of the local traffic cams, and she’ll let me know if she sees anything that stands out.” Liv was about to ask how they might identify the make of the car with no witnesses before he added, “And I’ve also checked in with Diana to find out if anyone has reported a stolen car in the last few hours.”

My God, he’s really on the ball, Liv thought proudly. He might end up being the best thing that happened to us all year. I definitely feel a lot better with him on the case.

“We should find something out soon,” he suggested, sounding optimistic. “I don’t think there’s going to be anything more here for us to find. By this point, he probably will have already discarded the car somewhere and torched it. I can’t see him being stupid enough to burn it in the same place as last time, so all we have to do is wait for someone to call it in. And somebody else to report a missing car.” He sighed heavily. “Until then… we should let next of kin know.” Liv nodded solemnly.

“We were actually having a trial separation,” Mrs Abbott explained, flexing her fingers in agitation. “His drinking was getting out of control. He wasn’t abusive or anything, but the number of times he’d come in from the pub pissed... It was hard enough for me to see it, but when it was the kids… Well, I told him that he needed to go away somewhere and sort himself out.” She paused as horror fell on her. “Oh, my God. You don’t think that if I hadn’t asked him to leave, he might still be here.” She buried her head in her hands.

“I don’t think that was the case,” Liv replied, not quite able to give her the reassurance she needed. “But I wanted to ask if there was anyone who might have had reason to hurt Jack?” She knew that alcoholics had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way.

“Well, there was one night a while back where he got into a fight with a few people. Made a few passes at the barmaid,” Mrs Abbott admitted hesitantly. “He came home with a black eye and a cut lip. I asked him about what had happened, and he tried to play it down. But I thought they’d just sleep it off. I didn’t think it was worth killing him over.”

They went speaking to some of the people who’d been at Mr Abbott’s regular pub. Apparently, he was quite a popular figure… until he got drunk, at which point they’d tried to shoo him out of the bar before they had to pick him off the floor. But speaking with some of the punters, Liv figured that some had major impulse control problems and were unlikely to commit such a well-thought-out crime. Chances are they’d be too pissed themselves.

Afterwards, thanks to some diligent work from PC Diana Hershel, they were able to identify the stolen car—a red Nissan, belonging to a deputy headteacher at the local school, Maria Sullivan. She’d been distressed over the theft of her car, but thankfully, she hadn’t been as irate as Fred Clark had been.

“I thought it must have been somebody taking the car to a chop shop,” she said, a little overwhelmed. “It would have been better.” She paused. “How is the family?”

“Upset,” Liv acknowledged. “And trying to make sense of it, as are we. I don’t suppose you knew Mr Abbott in any way?” It was a stretch, but with no other leads to go on, she was willing to explore everything, including a possible connection between the victims and the original owners. I’m definitely in reaching mode right now.

Mrs Sullivan studied the picture. “Never seen him before in my life,” she muttered with a shake of her head to the detective’s visible disappointment.

“Mrs Sullivan, I should say that there was a similar incident the previous day,” Liv explained, wanting to prepare her for the worst. “Another car was stolen and used to run another victim over.” She thought it best to avoid the gory details. “By the time we found it, it’d been torched. While we’re still looking for your car, I wouldn’t be optimistic about getting it back in one piece. They will likely try to destroy the evidence.”

Mrs Sullivan sank into her chair, trying to process the news. “Well, I suppose I can collect on the insurance.” At least she’s being practical over it.

The car was discovered an hour later, again reduced to a burnt-out heap, this time by the edge of an industrial estate. Liv glanced inside the shattered windows. The scene was nearly identical to the previous site, right down to the discarded items.

“So, we know that we’re dealing with the same killer,” Andrew noted as the forensics went about gathering the evidence. “He’ll slip up at some point. They always do.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Liv replied, cautiously optimistic. But I’m more worried about how many people he’s going to kill before we find him.

8

Back at the station, the team were gathered in the main office where Liv pulled out a board for everyone to see. “Right, then people,” she announced, putting up pictures of Maddie Hughes and Jack Abbott. “So, we have two victims here. Maddie Hughes worked for a local charity and had a boyfriend she was committed to. And Jack Abbott was an electrician who ran a successful business but recently ran into some family troubles on account of his alcoholism. Both were struck down and killed by collision over the course of two days. As of right now, we haven’t been able to find anything to suggest that they knew each other or even a link. I think we’re taking the mentality that the killer had only just decided to target them the moment he laid eyes on them.”

She looked out across the room to see if anyone had any useful theories to offer. Andrew’s placement had come at a good time. DS Archie Elmhurst was out of Newquay visiting family, and Nikki Harding was still going through her secondment in Derby.

“We keep coming back to the same problem,” DS Tim Harris noted, having spent much of his time helping Clara with online research. “A motive. Someone is stealing cars, waiting until they can get somebody on their own, and then mowing them down. If they were just stealing the car, we could argue they were going after them for the value. But everything about this seems like separate crimes rolled into one.”

“Well, there’s one thing I think we can agree on,” Liv noted grimly. “He’s not going to stop when he’s got a taste for it. The only way he’s going to stop is if we take him off the road.” The group nodded their heads in glum acceptance.

“For me, aside from the methodology, the biggest thing connecting these two cases is the car,” Andrew suggested, his mind whirring with possibilities. “Now, we’ve spoken to two owners who are insistent that they didn’t give the keys to anyone else, nor would they have the opportunity to have them stolen.”

“We will narrow that down based on the time span it would take to obtain the car,” Liv continued, circling the times that the cars were reported stolen. “We’re looking at two different extremes here. Either they stole the cars within minutes of deciding which one they’d go for, or they had planned beforehand which cars to steal, and it was just a case of going through the motions.”

“I’m inclined to think the latter, based on how they managed to get the cars without setting off any kind of alarm system,” Tim suggested, his experience specialising in tech-based crimes before giving him additional knowledge. “So, I think our focus should be on the keys…” His face fell. “Oh.”

“What’s oh?” Liv asked, all eyes suddenly on the detective sergeant.

“The keys—they’re both keyless, aren’t they?” he continued, going up to the board and holding out his hand for the pen.

“As far as I’m aware, yes,” Liv replied, handing over the pen.

“How much do you guys know about key frequencies?” Tim asked, starting to draw.

“Pretend not much,” Andrew asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Well, keyless cars will unlock automatically when they’re close to the actual car,” the DS explained, drawing an outline of a signal within close distance. “You don’t need to press any buttons or unlock anything, just be near the car. And the fob is often linked to the direct car. So, you’d think only the fob would open it. I previously dealt with a few cases of relay theft, where thieves use a device to mimic the signal given off by the key, basically tricking the car into opening up and starting the ignition. So, they could get in the car, drive off, and no one would be any the wiser.” He paused to see if his theory landed.

“Got to say, this sounds a little like science fiction for me,” Andrew muttered.

“I can assure you, this is very commonplace,” Tim responded. “And what’s more alarming is thieves only need to be within a few metres of the car in order to get a clear signal. So, you could keep the keys on you at all times and in the house, but if they can mimic that signal… then you’re pretty much screwed.”

Liv nodded. Of all the theories she’d entertained about how the killer could obtain access to the vehicles, it certainly felt like the most plausible. “So, how would they go about purchasing such a device? I can’t imagine it being something you can buy over the counter at PC World.”

“No. I think we’re going to need to look into that,” Tim continued. “Chances are, they would have obtained it beforehand, which suggests this might be their first time.”

Great, so we’re looking for both a serial offender and a serial murderer. Happy fucking New Year. “Right, everyone, I want us to have a look at anyone living in Newquay for auto-related offences. Tim, I want you working with Clara on that one.”

“On it, Liv,” Tim nodded, primed and ready to go.

“Andrew, we need to have a look at any people who might be providing any relay theft devices. See if anyone’s made a purchase,” she continued. “We’ll have to be smart about it. For an illegal purchase, it’s not like they’re going to keep the receipt.”

“Do you think it’s work having a look at the media?” Andrew asked. “Assuming this isn’t the killer’s first rodeo, there might be similar offences.”

“That’s not such a bad idea, actually,” Liv asked, feeling enthused at a possible pattern but also considering that the killer might have struck several times before and slipped through everyone’s fingers. I don’t want to be known as ‘the one who let them get away’. “Since we don’t know much about our killer, we need to put together a profile. Andrew, do you think Dr Pike would be up for that?”

A shadow crossed Andrew’s face. “I don’t know if she can find the time. She’s practically locked herself in the study.”

Liv picked up on the mild resentment in his tone. This sounds like trouble. “Well, I’m sure she can spare a few hours,” she suggested, knowing she’d have to get Andrew on her own to resolve the issue. “I wouldn’t be asking after her if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Well, I’ll drop her a line and see if she can come in,” Andrew suggested. “Hopefully, she can spare an hour or two.”

How gracious of her. “Okay, people,” Liv announced, clapping her hands together. “You all have your assignments; I suggest you get to it.”

The team gathered up everything and started filing out of the room. Liv decided to head to the kitchen, figuring she was going to need a good few caffeine fixes over the next few hours. She prepared a black coffee for herself, bracing herself for the tension to come.

Andrew came up next to her and started preparing a drink of his own. Liv contemplated not saying anything but was worried about seeing her friend in such a state. “Andrew… is everything okay between you and Helen?”

“What makes you think it isn’t?” he asked, not maintaining eye contact. He always did that when they were talking about difficult subjects. Great detective, shitty liar.

“I know you well enough to know when something’s up,” she responded, preferring not to allude to their sexual past. “It’s none of my business, really, but I would like to know if it’s going to be awkward when she comes into the station.”

Andrew sighed, not used to taking on his own role as sounding board. “I don’t know what it is, Liv. We’ve been together for nearly two years now, and it’s not like we’ve had any blazing rows or disagreements. It’s just that over the last few months, we’ve both been very busy—me preparing to get into CID and her writing her new book. Wind the clock back a few months, and we would have made sure we had time for each other. But now, we barely factor to one another. I… I can’t help wondering if we’re heading for a break-up.”

Liv was surprised that he’d been able to keep it all so close to his chest.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done wrong,” he continued, pouring a lot of sugar into his coffee. “I’ve tried to be attentive, supportive in all the things she wants to do. And it’s not like we’ve had any major bust-ups. But it’s like everything is just going wrong.”

Liv nodded sympathetically. Andrew Shaw was one of the most loving people she’d known, with a sense of care that she hadn’t always considered during their casual hook-ups. She thought that Dr Pike would be a good way for Andrew to move on from their relationship.

“I know you, Duracell, and I know you’ve done nothing wrong,” she insisted reassuringly. “That’s the way it is with relationships. Sometimes, there isn’t a bust-up or a cheating scandal. People just… drift apart.” The words made her shudder as she prayed such a fate would never befall her and Dean. “I think you need to have a very long hard think about whether you can salvage this relationship… or whether it’s kinder to both of you to be happy for the time you’ve had and move on to something better.”

9

Dr Helen Pike made her way into the station, looking a little perturbed at being called away from her passion project, though she tried to force down the frustration when DI Austin came down the stairs to greet her.

“Dr Pike!” she beamed in a tone that felt more than a little forced. “Thank you for taking the time to see us. I promise I won’t waste your time.”

“Well, Andrew said that it was an urgent matter, so I couldn’t say no,” she replied, her heels clacking against the floor. “I understand you have two victims already?”

“Yes, and we need to get a profile together before we end up with a third victim,” Liv said, hoping to impress on the psychiatrist the urgency of the situation.

“Well, let me have a look at the evidence and we’ll see what we can come up with,” she insisted, walking towards one of the unused interview rooms in preparation.

A few minutes later, Liv returned with all the evidence she could carry. She knew Tim and Clara were plodding away trying to find out everything they could.

“Where’s Andrew?” Helen asked, looking past Liv into the corridor.

“He’s going over some timings with our admin team,” she answered noncommittally. In truth, she’d asked Andrew about joining them, but he’d declined on account of how awkward it would be. “There’s no way our relationship isn’t going to slip out into the conversation,” he’d said. “And I don’t want to risk the investigation turning into our own personal soap opera.” He tried to play it lightly, but there was still frustration in his voice.

She admired that Andrew was trying to keep his problematic personal life out of the workplace, something she would have definitely struggled with. And it was probably for the best if Dr Pike remained focused on the task at hand.

The evidence gathered included stills from the CCTV footage, the make of the cars, the general profile of the two victims, and the times in which the locations were found.

Helen sat in silence, digesting all the information, and working out her hypothesis in her head. “Well, there’s clearly a pattern between the two victims,” she finally said, and Liv was wondering whether there was something she was supposed to have caught on to.

“Mind sharing what it is?” Liv asked, feeling like her lack of insight was being thrown in her face. Keep me in suspense, why don’t you?

“Granted, there aren’t any other factors like age, race, gender or even occupation,” Dr Pike explained. “He seems to be picking his targets when isolated or at least most vulnerable. The decision-making probably doesn’t happen until seconds before the murder.”

“But Maddie Hughes was run over walking down the street,” Liv commented, feeling the need to test the hypothesis if only to test its validity.

“Yeah, I was thinking about that.” She ran her hand over the picture of the deceased woman. “I take it there were no other victims before her.”

“I think we would know if that’s the case,” Liv responded, still doing a mental check.

“Well, I would say that that was him testing the waters,” Helen outlined. “He chose somebody that was out in the open in the middle of the day, not enough people about to protect her or do anything about it, but enough people to witness the scene. My guess is that was his first time doing it and he wanted to see what he could get away with. That’s how these people propel themselves forward, knowing that they can take all these risks and have them pay off. As for the second victim, I think that was simply wrong place, wrong time. But he’s clearly setting into a pattern. The only problem you’ve got is because of the spontaneity of his selection, you won’t be able to warn anyone until it’s too late.”

“What if we put out a statement cautioning people about walking by themselves?” Liv asked, trying to push down the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness.

“It might limit the number of people that he can target,” Helen responded, though her tone was unenthusiastic. “But that could make him desperate. There’s nothing more alarming than a caged animal. But I do think that’s your best bet.”

“So, what can you tell us about the killer?” the inspector queried, frustrated that the case had gone so long without a suspect.

“Well, obviously, you’re looking at someone with a driver’s license,” the psychiatrist retorted, and Liv couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “But you’re looking for someone who has experience in auto theft, possibly even has a conviction.”

“We’ve already had a look at all the criminals fresh out of prison and living in Newquay, both with spent and unspent convictions,” she replied, remembering the frustration she’d felt at the lack of progress.

“Well, I’d say he’s certainly got form,” Helen responded, doubling down on her own opinion. “The efficiency with which he’s working certainly indicates that he’s done this several times before—if not the killing, at least the stealing. He’s going to be efficient in keyless theft and will know where to find all the reputable dealers.”

“I don’t suppose you know of any way we can trap him?” Liv asked, feeling like she was going round in circles. 

“Not unless you plan on taking the wheels off every car in Newquay,” the other woman quipped sarcastically. “May I remind you again, DI Austin, that I’m a psychiatrist, not a clairvoyant. I can give you an idea based on prior cases I’m familiar with, but that’s only going to reveal so much. And it only puts so much pressure on me when you decide to take my theories—theories, mind—and start treating them like gospel.”

Liv immediately felt a red-hot anger towards the woman. Perhaps it was due to the turmoil she and Andrew were experiencing in their relationship.

“I apologise, Dr Pike,” she started through gritted teeth, trying to make the apology sound genuine. “We’ve just had very little to go on recently.”

“I understand,” Helen answered, sounding neutral. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m passing the buck, but these hypotheses do tend to fluctuate. I’ll try and come up with something more solid, but I can’t promise anything.”

Liv nodded, conceding the point. Not much to go on.

“But given that he’s killed two people within the space of twenty-four hours, he could well be gearing up to add a third to the list by the end of the day. Killing in twenty-four-hour periods… Now, it’s very possible he could have selected the cars he was going to use beforehand. All keyless, so there’s a way in for all of them. That’s the only part that doesn’t feel like a spur of the moment action. He would have to have observed those cars and their owners for quite a while, seen how often they were used, how he could get in, the kind of security he’d have to bypass. From what I’ve seen so far, if he had to get a car that could be opened directly by key, he’d struggle a bit. So, essentially… it’s long-term planning for a short-term action.” Helen shook her head ruefully.

“So, the guy is impulsive?” Liv asked, thinking about how quick the killer had been to run over anyone unfortunate enough to cross into his line of vision.

“It’s a mistake to think he’s impulsive,” the psychiatrist added quickly. “You imagine how much time he would have spent looking over Newquay trying to find the right cars to snatch. He would have spent hours looking. He’s probably got a list of vehicles lined up.”

“Okay, so what’s his motive?” the inspector queried, as that was the one thing that constantly eluded her. “Why mow down two innocent people he’d never even met?”

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to get my head around that myself,” Dr Pike noted. “I’ve tried to go through all the possible explanations. My initial thought was that maybe he’s doing it because he wants something, but now I think he’s doing it because he can.”

Liv sighed. She hated it when she got the weirdos who had no discernible motive. At least she knew how to counter and predict them.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance he’ll call it a day?” she asked, figuring she already knew the answer to that one.

“He’s got away with two bodies,” Helen explained. “And let’s face it, at the risk of sounding overly blunt, you have nothing. He probably knows you’re investigating the crimes, but he will keep it up, if only to give you a constant middle finger.”

The room went silent, both women emotionally exhausted from diving headfirst into the killer’s mind. Just as well Andrew isn’t here for this. It might be too much so soon.

Liv was pulled out of the dark space with a text notification from Tim. Clara’s found something you’ll want to see.

10

After Liv had seen Helen out of the building—while still resisting the urge to ask her about her turbulent relationship with Andrew—she made her way to Clara’s workstation where she was working diligently alongside DC Harris, both eyes locked on the screen.

“So, how did it go with Dr Pike?” Tim asked without turning to greet her.

“We’re looking for someone meticulous yet impulsive,” Liv replied, putting a sardonic spin on the psychiatrist’s words. “Someone who has an extensive background in this yet unlikely to have a criminal record. So basically, we’re looking for a paradox of a person.”

“Well, I think our man might be a bit more commonplace than you might think.” Tim suggested, moving away, and allowing her to move closer.

“So, I had a look at expanding the search,” he continued, pointing to a news article that Clara had brought up. “And it took a fair bit of searching, but there was a case in 2022 about a guy who had committed four hit-and-runs within the space of a week.”

“Christ,” she exclaimed in shock. “So, he’s done this before.”

“Oh, no, it’s not the same guy.” he explained quickly, highlighting a news heading. “This is a completely different person. But with the exact same MO.”

Liv read the news story, which described a case of a man stealing vehicles before mowing people down. The incidents had taken place in Yorkshire.

“So, how did they find the killer?” she asked, hoping she could copy the success.

“CCTV cameras caught him walking away from where he’d dumped the car, after mowing down a mother of three and killing her,” Clara responded, her voice filling with venom with each passing word. “Police had no issue identifying him.”

“So, he’s not as competent as our guy,” the inspector noted, looking over the profile of the original killer. He was in his mid-twenties, worked as an IT consultant, and had no criminal record. By all accounts, he’d been a model citizen. “Looking at all of this, he had a good life ahead of him, and he seemed to throw it all away for a thrill ride. So, did he say why he pissed it all away?”

Tim scrolled down. “He didn’t give a specific answer. Just said ‘it felt like a good idea at the time,’ and ‘might have been a fun game.’ Both of which suggest he’s a closet manchild, but you can’t really use that as a motive for murder.”

“So basically, he’s suggesting that it was all for shits and giggles?” Liv asked, having spent so long trying to understand the man’s motivations and sounding more than a little pissed off at the possibility that it wasn’t something grander.

“He’s not the only one,” Tim continued, looking at the site. “Clara, do you want to take the lead?” Liv appreciated that Tim was a team player who didn’t take all the credit.

“So, I looked at the last five years and found at least four separate cases of auto theft and death,” Clara explained, typing away on the screen and bringing up said cases. While backgrounds varied, the suspects all seemed to be men in their twenties.

“So, whatever the reason is these men are committing the crimes, there’s obviously a youthful appeal,” Liv suggested, feeling like they were finally getting somewhere. “There isn’t anything to suggest that these men have been in contact with each other?”

“No,” Clara replied, sounding a little irked. “There’s nothing to suggest any mental disorder or that they’ve ever met up… Then again, I guess toxic masculinity is catching.”

“Well, we don’t know that that’s the reason specifically,” Tim suggested, not wanting to get drawn into such a debate. “Especially with what you found.”

“Of course, sorry,” she quickly offered. “So, I’ve tried looking on the internet to find out if there’s anything related and typed in a few keywords—car theft, hit-and-run, auto disposal, keyless theft—to see if there’s any connecting element.”

“Please God, tell me they’re not going to be part of some demented cult,” Liv groaned, having dealt with enough of those for a lifetime.

“No, not a cult,” Clara replied, bringing up a website. It showed a forum that looked like it hadn’t had its browser updated in sixteen years.

“Don’t think I’ve seen this site before,” Liv said, her eyes going over the headings.

“Oh, believe me, you wouldn’t,” Clara replied. “Basically, this is where pissed-off people tend to go when they want to bitch and moan about things like equality and diversity.” She pointed to a sub-heading where a user had talked about how they had to attend a course on discrimination in the workplace after ‘accidentally’ using a racial slur and descended into a barrage of insults against an entire culture.

“Charming man,” Tim muttered humourlessly. But what was alarming to the group was how many people had responded with their own tales of resentment and frustration. And they always seemed to find a different minority for the target of their hate. “It makes you scared that so many people are walking around with this shit going through their heads.”

“Well, as long as they’re just keeping that hate in their heads and not doing anything with it…” the inspector noted, though she knew that for some people, it wasn’t enough to hold these opinions in as they polluted the mind and the soul. Thinking these things can easily turn into talking about them and then into acting on them.

“How long does this hate shit go on for?” Liv asked, growing tired of seeing the various variations of hateful abuse. “Is there a point to all this?”

“Just getting to it,” Clara noted slowly, typing away on the keyboard and bringing up the post. It was called AGAINST THE CLOCK. “This was what got alarm bells ringing.”

The highlighted post outlined the rules for a game in which people were dared to steal a car, drive it through the streets, and then hit as many people as possible within a designated time, with some people on the forum setting a time limit. Some people were instructed to run somebody over within a week, others were given days, and at least one person was given hours.

“What the fuck is this?” Liv hissed in a low voice, unable to contain her disgust.

“It’s a game that some people recommend if they need to work off a bit of steam,” Clara explained, coming down to the rules. “A little ironic that a game that kills people comes with a set of rules.”

“And the rules are what exactly?” Liv asked, wondering what kind of twisted fuck would implement such a system.

“They’ve got to choose a stolen vehicle from up to ten choices,” Clara stated, imagining the legwork that would go into assembling all those choices. “They’ve got to make sure that there is no trace of the theft like fingerprints.”

“Which would explain why they go for keyless theft,” Liv surmised.

“They have to hit a passerby within four hours of stealing the car,” the technician stated, thinking back to all the times the owners reported their vehicles stolen. It all adds up.

“And what happens if they don’t do it within the mark?” the inspector asked, struggling to get her head around the mentality. I preferred it when I thought there was a cult.

“Then they lose the challenge,” Clara explained, looking over penalties. “And the penalty is having their username copied and pasted to all major outlets.”

“And people sign up for this knowing the risk involved?” Tim asked incredulously.

“Maybe they fancy themselves as the gambling kind,” Clara suggested. “They enjoy the rush of getting caught. But no one’s been posted so clearly. No one’s failed the game.”

“Don’t call it a fucking game,” Liv snarled, thinking about how many people had died just becomes some people had had a bet. “What are the other rules?”

“It says that upon finding a target, they have to post an image from the crime scene as proof of having carried out the task.” Conscious of Liv’s flaring reaction, Clara added, “Bear in mind I’m just repeating what I’m reading on here.”

“Fair enough,” the detective offered, trying to calm herself. “So, what’s the evidence?”

Clara scrolled down until she saw pictures taken of bodies lying on the ground taken by an amateur photographer. “This is disgusting,” Tim said, gagging a little.

But Liv wasn’t listening, her mind firing on all cylinders. “Look at the latest entries,” she said in a dangerously low voice that set both Tim and Clara on edge. “I want to see if there’s anything from the latest crime scenes.”

Clara did as instructed and reorganised the forum to show the latest posts.

As the image came onto the screen, Liv’s eyes widened and her fingers curled into fists, wishing they were around the killer’s neck. “Bastard was right there.”

11

The image was taken from the Maddie Hughes crime scene, showing the young woman’s broken body lying in the ground. “He must have been standing only a few feet away from her,” Tim noted with disgust.

There were a few images within the post, and as Liv squinted, she could just make out her boot coming into the frame. “He was standing right next to me,” Liv exclaimed with a shudder. “The fucker was literally standing feet away from me, and I didn’t even see him.” She broke away from the table and started pacing up and down the cramped workstation, trying to walk off some of the anger.

“You couldn’t have known,” Tim assured her, though it did little good.

“What’s the name?” Liv asked, still needing something she could pound.

“It’s a username,” Clara cautioned as she read it out. “MrAmazing97.”

Tim covered his hand with his mouth to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

“Really fucking original,” the inspector exclaimed. “At least we know we’re probably looking for a guy in his late twenties. Narrows it down quite a bit.”

“You’d have thought he’d be a bit more obscure with his username,” Tim added. “Probably didn’t ever expect the coppers to come trawling through the site.”

Liv tried to collect herself and looked back at the screen. “Is there any way you can trace the user, find out which computer he’s working from? I think it’s safe to assume he’s still going to be in Newquay.” He’ll want to rack up the body count.

“I’ll see what I can find and if I can put a name,” Clara said, typing away.

“Try to do it soon,” Liv commanded. “I am not putting MrAmazing97 up as a name on the suspect board.” And we need to find him before he kills anyone else.

“It might be worth visiting one of the people in prison,” Tim suggested. “We know what kind of criminal group we’re looking at, and it shouldn’t be too hard to find an inmate detailed in those stories. Maybe we can speak to one of the detectives in charge of the investigation, if only to see if they can give us some pointers.”

Normally, Liv would have shied away from the idea of asking for favours from other areas, but she felt that it was either that or keep running in circles.

“Let’s not be so quick to run off,” she insisted. “I still need to be here running this investigation. I don’t want to be on the other side of the county when another body drops.”

“I could always go and check it out,” Tim suggested. “DC Shaw can stay here with you, and you can both keep an eye on things. We still need to track down anybody who might have sold the equipment used to break into the car.”

“Andrew’s currently going through some names we can check out,” Liv noted, hoping that the other person would be willing to convey the necessary information. “I’ll round him up when I’m done here, and we’ll head into town.” She looked to Clara. “Based on all of the news reports you found, where is the nearest prison?”

Clara looked a little embarrassed. “I’m going to have to do a bit of digging on that and some cross-referencing. There are a lot of hit-and-run cases, and I need to make sure that they’re likely to be one of the users of this website.”

“Look at the photos that they took as proof of what they’ve done,” Liv suggested. “And cross-reference those with the crime scene photos. They should be available online. And Tim, once you’ve found someone close by, if you could head over to the prison and maybe find out a bit more about these shitheads.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he agreed and moved closer to Clara. “Have a look through the police database and see what you can find in there.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to round up DC Shaw and see if we can find out anything about who might have provided the shithead with the equipment,” Liv declared, glad that they finally had a plan moving forward. Hopefully, we can avoid Victim Number Three.

“I can’t get my head around it,” Andrew said as they drove in the car. He’d been able to identify someone who sold fraud-based equipment to people for the right price.

“You sure he could have anything to do with it?” Liv asked. “I mean, the guy has been squeaky clean for the past sixteen months.”

“People will gladly do anything for decent money,” Andrew noted bitterly. “I’m wondering if there have been any exchanges. Can’t think of any other reason why someone would run over random people for fun. This guy’ll be no different.”

Liv knew that in his time at CID, Andrew would most likely come across a lot of criminals with motives that couldn’t be explained away, that had a sick streak to them.

They arrived at the location of their possible target, a man named Johnny Creed who had several convictions for auto theft and had spent around three years in prison.

They arrived at his flat, banging on the door, trying to decide on their approach.

The door opened, and Mr Creed was stood there in a dishevelled courier uniform that looked like it hadn’t seen a decent iron for some time.

“Can’t a guy get some decent sleep?” he asked, trying to stifle a yawn. “I’ve had online shoppers sending me back and forth like a fucking yoyo.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” Liv replied in a tone that indicated she was anything but. “I’d introduce myself, but I’m pretty sure you remember me.” She’d run into him at least two times.

His eyes lit up with recognition, and he looked like he wanted to scarper back into the apartment. “What the fuck do you want? Come to fit me up for anything?”

“It’s not fitting up if you were guilty,” she retorted with exasperation.

“We wondered if you’d heard something about some hit-and-runs,” Andrew asked coyly, watching the man’s face for any expressions.

“I think you’re both barking up the wrong tree,” he replied, ready to end the conversation there. “I’ve been on the straight and narrow ever since I got out. Been making do with this shitty job even as it sucks my soul. This is the most sleep I’ve got in weeks.”

“Oh, my heart bleeds,” Andrew replied sarcastically, itching to get inside.

“And besides, whatever I did, I wasn’t involved in killing anyone,” he replied in a clipped tone. “Reread my rap sheet. I was a thief. I stole things. There’s no way I could kill anyone. I do have some standards, believe it or not.”

“But you weren’t just a thief, were you?” Liv asked coyly. “You also provided people with the means to break into cars. You created a lot of the equipment that made it possible.” She sighed with genuine disappointment. “You know the sad thing, Johnny? You were a bright lad. Top of your class, good attention to detail. You could have had a great career in electronics or manufacturing. And instead, you threw it all away for a cheap buck.”

“Is there a point to this trip down memory lane?” he asked, trying to hide how shaken he was by her words. “Say what you want to say or fuck off.”

“Yesterday morning and yesterday evening, two people were run over by a car thief, both times making use of a keyless car,” Liv explained, watching Johnny’s face gradually fall as she outlined all the details. “And you’ve had at least two previous offences for supplying said devices to people who hijacked cars. You see what I’m getting at with this?”

“I’m pretty sure there are other people in Newquay who’ve been doing that shady shit,” he muttered, suddenly a lot more unsure of himself.

“Maybe, but you are the most high profile,” Andrew said in mock flattery.

“So, we’re going to need to have a look through your premises to see if you’ve got anything incriminating back there,” she instructed, and as expected, he tried to close the door on them, only for Liv to block it with her boot. “Mr Creed, we have no warrant to search your premises and you’re under no obligation to cooperate. But the fact remains that you were one of the go-to people for car theft, in addition to knowing exactly who to contact regarding selling on car parts, fake license plates—all things that our killer would have some involvement with. Now, we can halt this and leave you with this air of suspicion hanging over you and we can always come back with a warrant later. If you’re found to have provided the parts knowingly, you could be looking at an accessory to murder after the fact.

“Now this is your chance to offer us an answer and remove yourself from this enquiry, and we can assure you that any cooperation on your part—especially anything that leads to an arrest and conviction—will be taken into account.”

Johnny Creed took a moment to weight up his decision before he stepped aside.

12

It’d been a while before Tim had been able to find the nearest prison holding the right prisoner. He’d received plenty of guidance from Clara and had arranged a visiting order.

He was worried about coming back to Newquay and finding that the killer had struck again. At that point, their only hope was that the killer would slip up.

He arrived at the prison and went to speak with the guards. “I’ve got to tell you, he’s not one of the most talkative of people,” one of them told him. “He tends to keep to himself. Just as well, can’t fight his way out of a paper bag. The number of times we’ve had to class him as a vulnerable prisoner and stick him alongside all the perverts. Safest place for him.”

Tim was led into the waiting room and took a seat, waiting for the prisoner to appear on the other side of the glass. A few minutes later, the door opened.

One glimpse of the prisoner and Tim had to remember that he was in a prison and not a secondary school. Ralph Blake was in his early twenties, but he looked like he should still be in school. Tim could easily imagine the kid getting all kinds of shit at school, going through life as one of its great victims, except he’d had a good upbringing and had been to an upper-class school, received a good education, and had a career in Music Technology ahead of him. And he’d decided to toss that aside for the sake of a fatal thrill ride.

Ralph sat down opposite the detective, trying to make himself look confident, but instead, he just came across as weedy. His prison uniform hung off of him, and he looked like a kid playing dress-up with his parents’ clothes.

“Ralph,” Tim began, trying to remember not to tone down for the sake of a child. “I’m DS Harris. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

“You realise that if everyone else finds out I’m speaking to a copper, they’re going to kick the shit out of me,” he hissed, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was there.

“Whereas before, you were given the VIP treatment,” Tim muttered sardonically before getting down to business. “I’m here to talk about your little killing spree from a few years back. The one where you mowed down some innocent people, including a mother.”

Ralph looked away, and Tim wondered whether this was guilt or if he was intimidated. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he finally whispered.

“Well, I do.” Tim exclaimed. “I’ve read all about you, Ralph. A lot of the people I come across in this line of work, they don’t always have the best start in life. Their families were shitheads and their families before them. It’s a given that they’re going to end up behind bars one day. But you had good parents, a good upbringing, wanted for nothing growing up, good circle of friends, no health issues, physical or mental. Most people would kill to get the security you had in life. So, tell me, what was it about killing those people that made you want to throw it away?” He leaned in close, anticipating the answer. He was hoping that there may be some family issue or dark secret in the young man’s past that might have compelled him to commit those violent offences.

Ralph stood in silence, trying to think of the best way to phrase it before deciding to be blunt. “Because I was bored,” he exclaimed simply, still unable to look Tim in the eye.

Tim was glad he was sitting down at the time, or he would have fallen flat on his arse.

“‘Because you were bored?’” he repeated, glad Liv wasn’t there to hear it, otherwise this would get explosive—not that he was far off from that himself.

“I wanted a challenge, the thrill of the hunt,” he continued, talking as though he was trying out a new hobby. “It was only meant to be a bit of fun.”

Tim was tempted to get up and leave, unable to stomach a second longer in the prisoner’s presence. “Three children lost their mother in that killing spree. They’re never going to get over what happened to her, what you did to them. And then you took photos of them… simply to score points.” He hoped that the prisoner would try for some remorse.

But he could see there was no point. If Ralph was sorry for anything, it was that he’d been caught and lost his privileged lifestyle. He wasn’t sorry for the lives he’d taken.

“Must have felt pretty good at the time,” Tim observed, knowing he should get to the meat of the matter, but unable to stop himself. “Having all that power, knowing that someone living or dying was down to you… It must have felt like an adrenaline rush.”

As Tim spoke, he could see a smile stretch out on Ralph’s face as he retreated into the memory. But Tim dragged him back out with, “So you tell me, was it worth it?”

The smile instantly faded as he was catapulted back to reality. Tim could imagine the lavish lifestyle Tim must have had, but he stupidly chose to commit murder just for the sake of injecting some entertainment into his life. He probably even thought he could get away with it. Instead, all he had to show for his ‘entertainment’ was a claustrophobic prison cell and sharing the space of a bunch of prison inmates who were less than amused by his antics.

In moments like these, Tim could see that for Ralph, it definitely wasn’t worth it.

But rather than lay into the young man any further, Tim remembered that he had a job to do. “I understand that you took on the challenge through a forum, which came with a set of rules. The game was called Against the Clock. Ring any bells?”

“I needed a decent outlet, so I went online and tried to find something that would take my mind off all the post-school pressure,” he explained. “I wanted to try and find something that wouldn’t risk me getting a caution or even worse, a conviction, and that’s when I found the site. It had all these rules, and I felt like I could really throw myself into it.”

“So, you chatted with some of the people online?” Tim asked.

“Every now and then, yes,” he replied. “We bonded over things that pissed us off— people at work, relatives, ex-girlfriends. There’s always someone who winds you up.”

“There was a rule on the website that said, ‘Whoever you target, it can’t be anyone you know personally,’” Tim reiterated. “Do you know if anyone on the site broke that rule?”

“No, we didn’t,” Ralph explained, suddenly looking pleased with himself. “If we did that, we might as well make a trail that led the police to our door.”

“Did you ever meet any of these people in person?” Tim asked.

“Of course, I didn’t,” he spat back, as though Tim had asked the stupidest question possible. “I’m not going to risk getting caught with a load of strangers. And the rules are we keep ourselves separate and don’t reveal anything personal.”

Tim wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he hadn’t targeted anyone personally. He thought about the three motherless children growing up without a loved one simply because someone else couldn’t find a healthy way to satiate their restlessness.

“Is there a point to all this?” Ralph asked, suddenly eager to end the conversation.

“We’re trying to find a suspect operating under a similar MO,” Tim explained. “I think we’re entitled to ask a few questions, don’t you?” As the younger man went silent. Tim continued. “Now, the items that were previously used to break into the cars, I’m going to assume that you didn’t come across them yourselves. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can buy on Amazon. So, how did you know where to look?”

Ralph shifted in his seat, weighing the pros and cons of his cooperation. “We were copied into a private email and given a list of private providers based around the UK.”

“Sounds like a lot of heavy lifting. I don’t suppose you will have that list still?” Tim asked, hoping to find a link they’d missed on the forum, something that’d stand up in court.

“I should be able to get it up on a computer,” he responded. “Will it make any difference? You think you can smooth things over for me in here?”

Tim wasn’t about to start making assurances he had no control over. He was sure that Ralph regretted his decision to go on a spree, but more for what he’d lost than the pain he inflicted, and this olive branch was just his way of clawing back some comfort for himself.

“I’ll see what I can manage,” he said noncommittally.

“I need a computer,” the inmate added as he signalled for a guard.

Half an hour later, Tim was standing over Ralph in the prison library, a guard watching over them. Ralph was logging into his old account and bringing up personal messages. Tim glanced over the screen to look closely at the contact details that would count as evidence. “We’re going to need copies of this to send to my inspector.”

“There’s something else, too,” Ralph quickly added. “A clause if the police manage to find one of the contact details and start asking questions.”

“What kind of clause?” Tim asked, and Ralph scrolled down the page, reading over the rules. His eyes widened with disbelief, a pit opening up in his stomach.

“Oh, my God,” he exclaimed silently, reaching for his phone to contact Liv.

13

Liv was unaware of the jammer hidden in the flat and blocking any outside signal. She and Andrew moved through the messy apartment which was strewn with equipment, following closely behind Johnny Creed, not taking their eyes off him.

“So, what can you tell us about the people who asked you for the purchase?” Andrew asked, narrowly avoiding treading on a circuit board.

“About three weeks ago, I got an email from some guy telling me he was looking to make off with some cars to sell on the scrap and asked me if I knew anything about copying signals. I said yes…” He paused, catching the detectives’ disapproving glances. “But I told him I wasn’t in the game anymore. He then offered to pay me 5K upfront if I had it made.”

“And you agreed?” Liv asked slowly, trying to determine the man’s culpability.

“I’m working gruelling hours for meagre pay,” Johnny fired back indignantly. “I’ve tried going straight, I really have. But it’s catch-22. If I fall back into my old habits, I end up back in prison. If I try to stay clean, I’ve got my shithead supervisor breathing down my neck and looking down on me because of my record. Either way, I can’t win. And the 5K was easy money for something I was good at. It wasn’t like I had any other options.”

Liv did feel a stab of sympathy for him, thinking about many criminals who’d tried to reform, only to have their past actions constantly thrown back in their face… but then she thought about the two victims who’d already died, and her heart hardened.

“Well, two people have died, so I’ve got to take that into account,” Liv explained.

“I swear to you, I didn’t know any of that was going to happen. Honest to God,” he insisted, though Liv silently wondered whether it would have made a difference.

He brought them into a room that looked like a web of wires, and Liv wondered how many illicit favours Johnny was doing for people.

Johnny rummaged through an old toolbox and took out a battered phone. “There’s an app that I put together,” he explained, showing it to the pair.

“So how did you go about meeting him?” Liv asked, practically frothing at the mouth for a physical description.

“I didn’t meet him,” Johnny told them to their muted disappointment. “He was very specific about that. Told me that if I tried to get a face-to-face, then the deal was off. Instead, he sent me the key to a locker at the local gym and told me to leave the phone in the locker. He must have got it because two days later, the 5K came directly into my bank account.”

“Have you had any contact with him since then?” Liv asked, feeling that if they couldn’t find the killer, they’d have to make do with Creed.

“Haven’t heard anything from him since the payment arrived,” Johnny asked, his face betraying his turmoil. “Did the people he kill… have families?”

A part of Liv wanted to sugarcoat it… but then she thought of Ross’ turmoil and decided otherwise. “They had people who loved them who are in pieces over what happened,” she stated sternly, tempted to ask whether the 5K was worth it.

“I promise, I had no idea that he was going to do any of that,” Johnny pleaded. “He said that he was going to nick a few cars and sell the parts. If I’d known what he was going to do, I never would have handed it over. You have to believe me.”

“You want to prove that?” Liv asked, wondering how remorseful he actually was. “Help us bring him in. Anything that you might have exchanged, anything you’ve got that can lead us to him, it will all be helpful. And it will work out better for you.”

He nodded his head numbly, seemingly oblivious to the consequences for himself. “Do you mind if I take a few things with me?” There was a sense of finality to his words, as though he didn’t imagine he’d be coming back here for a long time.

“Sure, but be quick about it,” Andrew instructed, wanting them to get back to the station as quickly as possible. While Johnny was gathering everything he needed, Andrew whispered to Liv, “How much time do you think we have before he kills again?”

“I don’t know,” Liv said, fearful of getting a call that someone else had been murdered in a hit-and-run. Well, we’re onto you, you bastard.

Once Johnny had got everything sorted, they left the flat and walked towards the ground floor, preparing to get in the car. Suddenly, Liv’s phone started vibrating. She took it out and saw a series of missed calls, voice messages, and texts messages coming through… all from DC Tim Harris. “What the hell?” Liv muttered, looking back at the building. Must be dodgy Wi-Fi. The phone went off with yet another call. “You miss me that badly?”

“Liv, whereabouts are you?” he asked, frantic, and it sounded like he was running.

“We’re just rounding up the guy who supplied our killer with the signal scam,” she told him, looking over at Johnny, who was standing by the car, seemingly waiting for her. “How did it go at the prison? Manage to get the man talking?”

“Listen, there’s a clause on the game that they haven’t said on the public forum,” Tim shouted, and Liv heard the sound of a car engine started. “There’s a private message that says if any police come sniffing around, then certain actions should be taken.”

“Like what?” Liv asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

“Use your imagination!” he shouted impatiently. “Just get yourself and Andrew off the road until I get back!” He sounded like he was hyperventilating.

Liv looked around at the roads. There was no one else on the pavements and all the cars were parked. “You sure about this, Tim?” It was like him to panic.

“Trust me, if you have been in contact with someone directly related to the auto thefts, then chances are they will know about it,” he said. “I’m making my way back to Newquay now. You need to get yourself and Andrew to safety before then.”

“Okay, Tim, get off the line, I need to think about this,” she said, her mind swirling. She hung up the phone and saw Andrew standing next to Johnny, who didn’t look the least bit alarmed. “What the fuck have you done?” she demanded, marching over to the pair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his poker face was flimsy.

“Did you contact anyone while we were in your flat?” She thought about the influx of calls that hadn’t got through even in the flat… as well as some of Johnny’s earlier offences. “Were you blocking us in there?”

“You don’t understand, I had no choice!” he protested as the detectives rounded on him. “They had a lot of personal details on me they threatened to leak to you lot!”

“So, the shithead knows we’re here?” Andrew asked, trying to play down his concern. “We shouldn’t be too worried. He’s just one guy.” He placed his hands on Johnny. “Let’s just get him back to the station and take it from there.”

Liv agreed and got into the driver’s seat, making their way through the roads, Liv keeping the occasional glance out. She paused next to a lamppost and waited for the traffic to shift. She looked around and heard the sound of a car revving…

…just before a vehicle rammed into the car, sending it crashing into the lamppost, the metalwork twisting and distorting, and glass flying all around the interior.

All three people in the car were rendered unconscious, with Andrew drifting in and out of consciousness. Johnny was in the back caked in blood… and Liv was trying to stay awake. Her eyes felt so heavy. She looked out of the shattered window and saw a car with the entire front damaged beyond repair. As she continued staring, she saw the door open and a figure exit the vehicle. He was too far away for her to pick up on any features.

He retreated into the distance, and Liv tried to remove herself from the car to chase after him, but she had difficulty dislodging herself from the seatbelt.

She looked over to Andrew, hearing a groan from the younger officer. “Andrew…” She tried to nudge him awake. “Come on, Andrew, stay with me.” She couldn’t lose him.

Liv managed to tear the seatbelt loose and kick at the door with her boot, but it was impossible to get it open. Desperate to chase after the killer and get her partner out of there, Liv climbed through the broken window, trying not to cut herself on the broken glass and failing miserably. She winced as the shards tore at her flesh.

Finally, she managed to wrench herself free and crash onto the pavement. She tried to get to her feet, but the shock of the impact sent tremors of pain through her.

She could feel the world around her turning as she tried to crawl forward, her entire body threatening to shut down. She tried to resist it, but even Olivia wasn’t invincible.

She closed her eyes and tried to find some comfort in the peace that followed.

14

The first sound that floated through Liv’s mind was the sound of a rhythmic beeping, the kind she was used to hearing in hospitals. A screeching reintroduced her to the world, and slowly, her eyes opened, temporarily blinded by the lights before the world settled.

She was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to several monitors, clad in a hospital gown. She tried to move in the bed, but something tore at her side. She felt her abdomen and found it wrapped in a bandage. There were also bandages wrapped around her palms, presumably covering where she’d cut herself climbing out of the car.

She was allowed a few moments of blank bliss before her last few moments of consciousness came drifting back to her—the crash, the state of her suspect, and her partner… Andrew. What’d happened to Andrew?

Liv chided herself for not doing more to get him out of the car. So where was he? Was he surgery? Was this why nobody was at her bedside? Because they were too busy with Andrew? What if he hadn’t woken up? Her mind instantly went to the worst case scenario. She was supposed to be watching out for him. If anything had happened…

She tried to pull the covers off the bed. She didn’t care what state she was in. She couldn’t lie there waiting to find out. She’d search the whole hospital if she had to—

“Liv, you need your rest!” Turned out she didn’t need to search further than her bedside. Andrew rushed up holding a coffee. There was a plaster on his head, but otherwise, he looked unscathed. Seeing she was awake, he handed his coffee over to her.

“Cheers,” she muttered, taking a long swig of coffee, feeling the caffeine energise her. “How are you feeling? Did you get roughed up bad?”

“Luckily, the car took the worst of the impact,” he muttered, checking himself over again. “Haven’t got anything that won’t heal up pretty soon. Just as well, I got enough war wounds from my time as a PC. Thought this new role might be easier on the body.”

“No sign of Helen?” she asked, looking past Andrew.

“No,” he replied, the smile looking increasingly fixed on DC Shaw’s face. “No, I think I would need to be at death’s door for her to put in an appearance.” It was clear he was hurt by her absence. “I probably should have fibbed to get her to come down.”

Olivia knew that every second of focusing on the impending heartbreak was not good for Andrew or the investigation. “How did Johnny Creed come out of it?”

“He’s currently in surgery. The doctors are working on him, but I think it’s all up in the air. His injuries were quite severe.” The grimace on his face suggested she didn’t want any of the details. “We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just hope he pulls through.”

“He’s got to. He’s our only lead to the killer,” Liv said. “And if he does survive, I want to throw the book at him for helping to bring a killer down on her heads.”

“If I’m being honest, Liv, I don’t think that was his intention,” Andrew answered, sitting down on the end of the bed. “Just before he went into surgery, I spoke with him. He was semi-incoherent, but he told me that he had no idea what would happen, and he would never have gone along with it if he had. He said that they were just supposed to get him away from the scene. Nobody said anything about killing anyone.”

“So, this is more like them covering their tracks,” Liv suggested, taken aback by the ruthlessness of the forum. “No such thing as small print.”

“Got to say, Liv, they must have been pretty desperate to actually try and ram the car,” the young DC commented a little sheepishly. “At the risk of putting a good spin on a bad time, the fact that they’re trying to kill us means we’re getting closer to them.”

“I’m glad you’re taking some encouragement from the attempt on our lives,” she exclaimed sardonically. Though she had to silently concede that he did have a point. If people aren’t trying to kill us, we’re not doing our job right. “What about the car used?”

“It was another stolen vehicle—surprise, surprise,” he noted, standing up and testing his legs for any wear and tear. “The owner came forward about an hour ago, reporting it missing. I don’t think he will be too happy when he sees the state of his car.”

“Is there anything we can use for evidence?” Liv asked, adjusting herself in bed and trying to ignore the pain in her abdomen. “Fingerprints, CCTV, anything?”

“We can get Clara to check out the CCTV from the area,” Andrew confirmed. “And forensics are going over the car for any fingerprints. So far, we haven’t had much luck there. He’s panicking, definitely, but not enough to make mistakes.” Liv’s face was about to fall as he quickly added, “On the bright side, we had a few eyewitnesses who got a good look at the guy, one of whom is currently working with a sketch artist. So that will give us something.”

“Maybe you could have led with that,” she muttered, lying back in her bed, wishing that she could sink back into the pillows and relax. “So, when can I get out of here?”

“I think they’re going to keep you in here overnight,” he replied, though they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. She’d be discharging herself within the next few hours. “Be careful with acting out. You don’t want them restraining you to the bed.”

“They’re welcome to try,” Liv sighed, looking around. “So, where’s everyone else?”

“Clara’s gearing up to check the CCTV,” he explained. “Diana’s taking witness statements from the scene. Tim is keeping an eye on Johnny Creed. He’s beating himself up for not getting back to us in time. He got back twenty minutes after the crash.”

“Wasn’t his fault,” she said, wishing DC Harris was there to assure him. “Would’ve gone down the same way, regardless.” Andrew went alarmingly silent. “There’s something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there? Come on, mate. Spit it out.”

“Spoke to Collins; he wants to take some of the pressure off you,” Andrew said, saying it all quickly as though to rip the plaster off.

“You mean he wants to bench me?” she suggested, hating it when people felt the need to mollycoddle her. “I’ll rest up when the job is done.”

“Liv,” he muttered, shifting where he stood. “You were involved in a traumatic incident. We both were. And Collins has said he has a duty of care to both of us to offer counselling and support as well as put us through a welfare check.”

Normally, Liv would have shot down the idea of a welfare check, preparing to plough through as with everything else she did in life. But Andrew was fairly new to the CID game, and she didn’t want to risk sending him back out there before he felt he was ready. “You should probably take them up on that. Otherwise, it’ll eat you up inside.”

Andrew pondered the idea. “Nah, you’re all right. If I do that, I’m going back home and trying to pretend that me and Helen aren’t living separate lives. I’m fine out here, thanks. At least I can be useful.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

But Liv wasn’t sure what was worse, that he didn’t seem impacted by being in a near-fatal collision or that he’d rather throw himself into a stressful—and now death-defying—case than go home and face his girlfriend. “Well, I’m always glad to have you on board.”

Dean came into the ward, followed closely by Mariana. “Oh, thank God,” he exclaimed, rushing over to Liv and holding her. “Tim phoned and told me everything.”

“Did he tell you to take easy on the hugging?” she asked, trying to make sure he didn’t end up accidentally touching her bandaged abdomen.

“Sorry,” he pulled away as Mariana stepped forward.

“I heard about what happened.” She offered a smile. “I hope you’re feeling okay.”

In that moment, Liv wanted to tell her how exhausting I’d been keeping her secret and lying to the man she loved, but she could see Mariana meant well and took her hands. “I’ve been through worse, believe me. Andrew will tell you all about it?”

“It’s true,” he offered jovially. “We’ve had to put her back together several times over. How she’s not turned into the bionic woman is a small miracle.”

Liv enjoyed the relaxing environment. She knew this was what she needed to move ahead and get back to work. The first port of call would be checking with the sketch artist.

They were joined by DC Tim Harris who didn’t seem jovial or in any state to ease the tension. “How you holding up?” he asked, a little numb.

“I’ll live. Again,” she replied, having lost count of the number of times she'd ended up in a hospital bed. She took in his stricken face. “Listen, Tim. Don’t beat yourself up over this. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“It’s not that,” he muttered in a low voice. “Johnny Creed died on the operating table about fifteen minutes ago. There was nothing they could do.”

The team hung their heads as all their hopes of solving the case died with Johnny.

15

The driver limped through the street, trying to disguise the toll the collision had taken on his leg. Normally, he would have been careful about people spotting him, but he felt he couldn’t afford to take the risk. He had to silence the weak link. In truth, the rules on the forum had been quite vague. They’d said that in the event of the police approaching connected people that they should prevent such a thing from happening. But they’d never been specific about what that entailed and had certainly not suggested actually killing the offending link. While he didn’t know Johnny Creed that well, he knew the guy might tell them everything he knew for the sake of avoiding a prison sentence. Better safe than sorry.

He figured that he’d have to lie low for a while and considered impressing as much upon the forum. They’d probably take umbrage at the fact that he was rescinding on previous promises, but he was sure he could swing it. In truth, he wanted to keep going even with the threat of the police hanging over him. This was the most alive he’d felt in ten years.

He’d made a mistake marrying young, thinking that he needed to put stability first in his life. But after five years of marriage and two children—including a six-month-old baby—it was driving him up the wall. He felt that he always needed to be on standby to help his wife and couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep.

And work was hardly any better. He’d been working the same dead-end job for the last four years, with his manager constantly dangling a promotion over his head before offering it to someone who was ‘more deserving’. He knew that if he kept on going like this, he’d be stuck in the same soul-sucking rut for the next twenty years with no end in sight.

There were a few options open to him. The first was leaving his wife and children behind, but he wasn’t ready to shed the image of a family man and all the protection it offered just yet. There was that and the fact that she would gladly demolish him in the divorce courts and take everything he’d earned for herself and their children.

It wasn’t like he needed a permanent change to his daily life. Just a little hobby that allowed him to let off steam and go back to his old life like nothing’d happened.

He felt like taking a risk just to get the thrill coursing through him. Back when he was a teenager, he’d been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. No risk was too much for him. Of course, that all changed when he’d had children and had to deal with being a constant provider to his family. Any search for thrills had gone out the window.

As his annoyances at other people had grown, he found himself wishing that he could take all his frustrations out on them, but he couldn’t because he had to be ‘respectable’.

But as he was looking online, he came across the forum, and specifically, the game Against the Clock. The beauty of it was that he didn’t have to target people he knew. When he envisioned himself running somebody over, he thought about all those stray animals that ran into the middle of the road. He didn’t feel anything when he ran them over. It wasn’t like they were going to impact his life in any way. And the people he ran over… It felt cathartic.

He remembered when he ran over the first woman. He didn’t know her name or anything about her, but that made it easier for him to imprint his own feelings on her. He imagined her as something of a parasite, someone who came into people’s lives, people with promise, and drained everything out of them. She reminded him of his wife. So, when she went over the bonnet, it felt like he was avenging himself for the nine years of marriage. He should never have married young, and the pent-up rage showed.

As she went over, it was a blissful feeling, like all that stress that he’d been sitting on for years was finally pouring out. And when he came to the second victim, the man reminded him of his alcoholic father who never did anything worthwhile with his life and only offered disappointment. He imagined that if he kept it up, he could find all manner of people living in Newquay who reminded him of some shitbag that had screwed him over at some point.

He certainly felt like he’d got it all out of his system. As he turned his key in the lock and walked into the house to the smell of roast beef and his son setting the table, he figured he could definitely keep up the family man facade, and the smile didn’t quite feel so worn.

He should have been more thorough with the detectives, but he could only afford to do so much damage in a public place. He remembered standing only a few feet away from the woman who was leading the investigation. It was just his luck that he wasn’t going to get a lazy detective approaching retirement to dress the crime up as an unsolved hit-and-run. She’d be after it like a bloodhound until he just had to hope it would be enough to deter them.

He wanted to enjoy the night off. He’d earned it after all. Tomorrow would be different. There was a nice Jaguar parked a few streets away. Maybe he could take it for a spin.

Liv knew she couldn’t go home until the case was solved.

She wanted nothing more than to climb into Dean’s arms and allow him to hold her and tell her it was all going to be all right, but she knew the man would strike again simply because he could. He won’t feel so smug with all we’re going to throw at him.

Once she’d been assured that the injuries she received were superficial and nothing she couldn’t recover from, Liv discharged herself from the hospital, made a quick stop home for a change of clothes, and then headed straight to the station.

“DI Austin,” Superintendent Collins exclaimed with surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon. Are you sure you shouldn’t be resting?”

“I’m not going anywhere, guv,” she insisted. “Bring out all the security guards you want; I’m not budging.” He looked sceptical at seeing her back so soon after a car crash, but by that point, he knew that his job was a lot easier when he didn’t argue with her.

The frightened witness was sat in one of the interview rooms speaking as cohesively as her panic would allow. The sketch artist worked diligently, trying to take in as many details as possible. After forty-five minutes, she was done and showed the photo to Liv.

The picture depicted a man in his mid-to-late twenties with flowing hair. He looked like he should be in a shampoo commercial rather than a crazed killer mowing down random citizens.

So, this is the guy we’ve been after. She escorted the witness through reception along with the sketch artist. “Thank you both for this. If you can remember anything else, let us know. We’ll be in touch,” she offered gently, getting them to the entrance.

“What the hell is taking so long?” an irate Ross snapped. He staggered over to Liv, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. “How hard can it be to find the driver?”

“Ross,” she started, conscious of the presence of the witness, “I promise you we’re doing everything we can. Perhaps you should go home and wait…”

“Wait?” he demanded, and she instantly knew she’d said the wrong thing. “I have to go home to an empty flat, and every time I walk in through the front door, I keep expecting her to call out to me, to suggest something on the TV. But that’s never going to happen. I want that fucker found.” His eyes drifted to the piece of paper that Liv was holding. “That’s him, isn’t it?” Before she could stop him, he snatched the picture out of her hand and studied it. She tried to swipe it back, but he held it out of her grasp. “This is the guy, isn’t it? This is the one who killed Maddie. Why haven’t you found him? Too busy sitting on your arses?”

“Mr Loughton, we’re trying to pursue an investigation, and while I sympathise with what you’re going through, your behaviour is obstructing the investigation and making it harder to bring in Maddie’s killer.” It was a low blow to make, but it was the only one that she felt would land. He seemed to concede the point, grudgingly handing back the picture and stomping away. She felt sorry for him but couldn’t afford to mess up an investigation over one man’s grief.

“I must apologise for that,” she offered to the two women.

“It’s all right,” the witness said sympathetically. “I get that he’s hurting.”

Once the witness and the sketch artists were in their respective vehicles, she made her way back into the station, picture in hand, where Andrew, Tim, and Clara were all sitting around respective desks. “Listen, everyone, this is going to be a long night. And I appreciate some of us are suffering a bit of wear and tear.” She looked directly at Andrew, still nursing a plaster. “So, if any of you want to go home tonight and come back refreshed, I’m not going to hold it against you.” She waited patiently for their responses.

“Diana will be out there looking for this guy,” Clara replied. “I’d like to do my bit.”

“My partner’s given me the night off,” Tim joked. “Might as well make use of it.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” Andrew said bluntly.

“Well, in that case, we have a means of identification.” She held up the sketch. “Now we need to put a name to the face and fill up a cell.”

16

Liv started looking through the police database for anything to resemble the man in the image, focusing specifically on auto-related offences. She narrowed the rows of accused criminals down slowly but surely until she was confident she’d found a match.

The picture she pulled up was of a man called Callum Drumming. While he hadn’t been arrested as an adult, he’d been taken into custody for stealing a car and taking it for a joyride when he was seventeen years old. Explains how the man knows his way around cars.

But ever since that minor blip, his record was clean, not so much as a caution. She wanted to believe there was more than just boredom at hand to cause a previously law-abiding citizen to turn homicidal.

She looked up his address to find out where he’d be living up to that point, though she was conscious that he could be out there trying his luck with another car.

“Okay, listen, team,” she instructed. “We’ve got an address for a Callum Drumming. We’re going to go around there and look at making an arrest. Tim, you’re with me.”

Tim bolted from his seat, leaving Andrew stumped. “Liv, I’ve been working this case, and I think I need to see this through to the end.”

“Andrew, you’ve done plenty,” she offered sincerely. “But you need to recover.”

“Says the woman who dragged herself out of a demolished car,” he exclaimed sardonically.

“This is probably one of the very few times I’m going to enjoy saying ‘I’m your boss,’” she replied before turning towards the exit. “You can check with Clara to see if there’s any digital trace of Mr Drumming online. Something we can use to nail him. DS Harris, with me.”

She wasn’t too keen on the idea of bringing out a full group of AFOs for essentially her suspicions about one man, but she still wanted to have a few officers along for the ride, including PC Diana Hershel and PC Nick Hartman. Now would be a good time for the new lad to show his worth.

They pulled up outside the house, and Liv and Tim departed first while Nick and Diana remained in the car. They knocked on the door and a young woman opened it. She had her black hair tied back in a bun and was clad in a pink dressing gown, clutching a stuffed unicorn. “What’s this all about?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“DI Austin and DS Harris,” she said, holding up her ID card. “Is your husband in?”

“He had to pop out for about half an hour down to the off-license,” she explained, oblivious to Liv’s growing horror. “We’re out of wine.”

“When did he go?” Liv asked in a tone trying to hide the urgency.

“About five minutes ago,” she responded, finally catching on. Suddenly, the paradox of two detectives appearing at her door. “What’s happened?”

Liv spoke on her police radio. “PC Hershel, PC Hartman, check the area and see if you can find him. Check anywhere with a car. If you see anyone matching Callum Drumming’s description, stop them in the streets.”

“On it, ma’am,” PC Hershel responded, ploughing out of the car alongside PC Hartman and taking off down the street. Liv would have joined them in the pursuit, but she was still in enough pain for it to twinge as she moved ever so slightly. She was confident that the two PCs could make the arrest, if need be. Well, Diana, she was sure of.

“Can we talk inside, Mrs Drumming?” she asked, gesturing to the living room.

“Okay…,” the woman answered, trying to sound calm. They stepped inside, and Liv could see the hallway littered with stuffed toys, feeling sicker with each new step. That’s going to be another family destroyed for good. They made it to the living room where a small boy was sat in front of the telly watching cartoons. “Charlie, do you want to go and watch that upstairs in your bedroom? Maybe check on your sister?”

“Okay, Mummy,” the boy replied, giving his mother a hug before bounding out of the room, not looking in Liv’s direction. She could go up against hardened criminals without feeling intimidated, but facing a child with this kind of news was beyond even her.

“Do you mind if we sit?” Liv asked, feeling the need to make herself comfortable and knowing the painkillers she’d taken earlier in the day could only do so much. She fell into some cushions without waiting for the invitation.

“Could you please tell me what this is all about?” the woman pleaded. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been here all day looking after the kids.”

“Oh, this isn’t about you, Mrs Drumming. This is about your husband,” Tim answered, trying to find the right way to build her up to it. “Have you noticed a fair few comings and goings over the last few nights? Might have been back a bit later?”

“Well, I know he’s been busy with work,” she replied, flexing her fingers. “His boss takes advantage of him all the time. But he’s always come through for us. I worry about him being out at all hours, especially with all these car accidents happening.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, this isn’t why you’re here, is it? Please God, tell me he hasn’t been run over?”

My God, she is making this hard for us. “I’m really sorry to tell you, Mrs Drumming,” Liv began, trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. “But your husband is not a victim of these incidents. He’s the perpetrator.”

There was silence in the room. Mrs Drumming didn’t seem to register the words. Her breaths came in ragged and sharp. “No…” she said, shaking her head and putting her hands on her chest, almost doubling over. “No, that can’t be… You’ve got it wrong…”

“We’ve got identification that links him to one of the crime scenes,” Liv explained, her voice heavy. “We need to speak to him about his whereabouts.”

But Mrs Drumming was barely listening to any of it. She was sinking back into the chair, and the pair were worried she was hyperventilating.

“Tim, go to the kitchen and get some water,” Liv commanded, and Tim bolted from the chair and dashed out of the room, returning seconds later with a glass of water.

Mrs Drumming gratefully accepted the glass and drank it. “Thank you…” She wiped her mouth with her dressing gown sleeve. “I don’t understand… It can’t be…”

“Mrs Drumming, has your husband ever been violent with you at all or shown any violent tendencies towards anyone else?” Liv asked, wanting to know how wide the divide was between the public mask and the private mask.

“No, he hasn’t,” she insisted emphatically. “I mean, he’s always given the sense of being dissatisfied with what we have, but not enough to do something like this…” She paused, trying to catch her breath. “Who is it he’s… he’s supposed to have killed?”

“A young woman who works at a charity shop and a local plumber,” the inspector explained. “No connection to him whatsoever, we’re thinking.”

“But why would he do this?” she asked through teary eyes. “Why would he risk everything we’ve built for ourselves just to go after people he doesn’t know?”

If you know knew how long we’ve spent asking ourselves the same question… But I don’t think you’re going to want the answer just yet.

“Mrs Drumming,” Liv said, leaning in closely. “I understand that this is a lot to take in, believe me. But I can assure you we’re telling the truth. Your husband has been linked to at least three murders and the attempted murder of two police officers, me included.” She was tempted to pull up her shirt to show the thick bandage around her abdomen, but she figured that would be overkill. She looked around at the photos on the mantelpiece depicting Callum Drumming with his family and friends. She forced herself to look at the photos several times to get a sense of how wide the divide was between the man’s public and private faces. She thought back to when she was briefly trapped in the car and she saw a man getting out of the wrecked vehicle. Her memory coming into focus, now more than ever, Liv was convinced that he was the man who had tried to kill her.

“The truth is, we need your help,” Tim said, trying to bring the conversation back on track. “You say he’s gone out tonight? As with any other night, it’s possible that he could be looking at stealing another car and going off to find someone else to attack. In which case, we can’t let that happen. So, we need you to contact him, see if you can get him to come home. We can coax you on what you can say.”

She looked at them both disbelievingly. “You honestly expect me to betray my own husband? Be the one to put him behind bars? I can’t do that.”

“You shouldn’t look at it as you betraying your husband,” Liv offered. “Two families have already been torn apart by these crimes, and we need to make damn sure that number doesn’t go up. You could be our only way of making sure nobody gets hurt.”

She weighed up the options before her, the conflict evident for them both to see. Finally, she held out her hand. “Just give me a phone and tell me what to say.”

17

It wasn’t the smartest exercise he could have come up with, admittedly, but ‘popping out for more wine’ was a lot better than saying, ‘I'm going to find someone I can mow down in the car.’ He hadn’t originally intended to head out that night, but listening to his nauseating wife’s ramblings would be enough to drive anyone to murder.

He made his way over to the Jaguar he’d spotted a few nights back. As he’d done several times before, he held out the app supplied to him by Johnny Creed, held it against the car handle, and smiled as the lock clicked. He just begun to open the door when—

“Need some help there, mate?” Callum turned sharply in the direction of the voice and saw a man walking up to him. The man was in his early twenties and there was something familiar about him. Callum was sure he’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t place him. He was only a few years younger than Callum himself.

“No, I’m good thanks,” Callum replied, waiting for the man to go away. He wondered if it would be possible to get in the car and find a way to run this annoying prick over.

“You want to be careful driving around at this time of night,” the younger man said, and Callum noticed that despite his supposedly relaxed demeanour, he was trembling a little. Probably because of the cold. “With all those hit and runs, you shouldn’t be taking the risk.”

“I’m sure I can look after myself,” Callum replied, growing increasingly bored. “Now, if you don’t mind…” He began to slide into the driver’s seat, but the other man held the door.

“You going to see anyone tonight?” the man asked, the smile slowly falling away.

“What the fuck is it to you?” Callum snarled, deciding that he didn’t need a set of tyres to take care of this jabbering shithead. “I don’t have time for this…”

“You actually came across someone very close to me the other day,” he said, leaning down and getting close in Calum’s face. “You probably wouldn’t recognise her given how fast you were going—Maddie Hughes.”

Callum’s face twisted in confusion. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Oh, I know,” the man declared, his breath reeking of alcohol. “You didn’t bother getting her name. She was just another person you happened to run over. But she was my everything. And you took her from me. And now you’re going to fucking pay.”

Before Callum could react, the man lashed out with a right hook, striking the older man in the fist. He then began pummelling him indefinitely, wanting to inflict as much pain as possible on the man who’d taken everything from him.

Once he was sure Drumming wasn’t going to get back up, Ross Loughton piled the body into the passenger seat, wrapped zip ties around the killer’s wrists, and threw something else into the passenger seat. He’d brought it with him specifically for this moment.

After DI Austin had shooed him away from the station, he’d waited in the background until they were ready to drive to the suspect’s house, knowing he’d be able to pick up the lead. It was surprising that Callum Drumming wasn’t at home, but in a way, Ross was relieved. He’d had thoughts about holding the wife and children hostage to force the killer’s cooperation. Now that that was no longer a necessity, he felt ashamed for even considering it, knowing that Maddie would be disgusted with him for even thinking about hurting kids.

He started tearing up at the thought of her. That morning, he’d turned over in their bed still expecting to find her there. When he was confronted only with the imprint on the pillow, it dawned on him all the things he was never going to experience again—her laugh, the way she snuggled into him, the peach smell of her hair—all those beautiful things that would one day be lost from his memory. And when he’d turned up at the station and the police still hadn’t apprehended anyone, he knew he had to act.

When he saw the fucker wasn’t in the house, he went looking for him. He knew he wouldn’t have gone far, and running into him was a stroke of luck.

It irked him no end having to listen to Callum speak so dismissively about Maddie as though she were just a bug he decided to step on, oblivious to the pain he was inflicting. But he would know all about pain soon enough.

He drove to an old sports centre where he and Maddie used to go when they were kids and wanted to get away from it all. The memory of her strengthened him.

In the backseat, Callum tried not to let the fear overcome him. He’d been taken by surprise, but this wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Suddenly, his phone started buzzing in his back pocket. Thankfully, it was on silent, so it didn’t attract the attention of the driver. He twisted around and was barely able to get it out thanks to his restrained wrists. When he saw the caller ID, he was a little annoyed to see it was his wife. But then again, maybe she could get him out of this. He accepted the call, and knowing he only had seconds, shouted, “Listen, I’ve been kidnapped, I’m being held at the sports centre near…”

He was smacked across the face, and the phone was pulled from his grasp. Ross chucked it out the window, and they could hear it clatter in the distance.

He opened the side door and dragged Callum out, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud. He came to, his face bruised and bloody. “What the fuck is this?” he panted.

“You know what this is,” Ross said, kneeling over him. “And the police know what you are. But sadly, for them, I got to you first.” There was a chill in his voice. He thought about the specific item he’d left back in the car. He had no need for that. Yet.

“What is it you want, eh?” Callum asked, having seen his superiors do enough deals that he was sure he could convince this guy to let him go. “I can get you a load of money to let me go. All yours, no strings attached.”

“Are you seriously trying to put a price on my girlfriend?” he snarled angrily, getting close in the man’s face. “You took the most precious thing in the world to me, and I want to know why. What could you have possibly achieved, however long it went on for, that was worth demolishing those families? Was it money?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He’d spent the past few days trying to understand why anyone would want to kill someone as gentle as Maddie, and every time he tried thinking of a rational explanation, he kept on coming up short. He wrapped his hand around the man’s neck, squeezing tightly.

“It… wasn’t… anything… personal,” Callum choked out, figuring that he’d have to play ball if he had any luck of surviving the night. He waited until Ross had loosened his grip before he spoke again. “I didn’t know anything about your girlfriend,” he explained, now remembering that he’d seen the younger man coming rushing into the street after the collision. He knew that he was going to have a hard time with a boyfriend determined to play the knight in shining armour. “I have just been stressed out in my day-to-day life. Between work, wife, kids… I was only nineteen when I got married. I got pressured into ‘doing the right thing.’ But I was kidding myself. I just felt like I needed to let off steam. I never set out to kill her directly. I can promise you it wasn’t anything personal.”

He figured that if he could make out that it wasn’t a personal attack—and it wasn’t—the boyfriend would be less likely to go on a rampage.

But instead, he’d said all the wrong words, and Ross looked like he was about to explode. He grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in close. “It didn’t mean anything? Let me tell you about Maddie. She could make friends with anyone within minutes of knowing them. She supported people with cerebral palsy and helped them get a bit of confidence in themselves that they wouldn’t get otherwise. We had a rough year, her and me. And it was mainly my fault. I took her for granted and didn’t consider her enough. And most girls would have kicked me to the curb. But Maddie? She never stopped thinking I could be better. So, we got over our rough patch…” He paused, not wanting to show any emotion in front of this lowlife. “...and we told ourselves that this year was going to be the start of a whole new chapter for us. We spent nights talking about all the things we were going to do… and then you came along and took it all away in a split second.”

He threw Callum back down to the ground, and though Callum was tempted to beg, he could tell there was nothing he could say to make the man change his mind.

“There are several ways I could do this,” Ross said with his back turned. “I thought about running you over with the car. It would be karma for what you put her through. I try to tell myself that she didn’t suffer for long. But that would be too kind for someone like you.”

He walked over to the car and brought out the item he’d intended to use—a set of chains. He fastened one end around the back of the car and the other end around Callum’s feet, pulling it taut. Callum struggled with renewed vigour, but to no avail.

And it was only when Ross started the engine that the begging started.

18

Andrea Drumming dialled the phone several times, but there was no answer. “I don’t get it, there’s no response,” she offered apologetically to the detectives.

Please tell me he’s not already gone and killed someone. I don’t want to be picking up another body. She was tempted to bolt out of the house and follow the PCs.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know?” Amanda said, taking her ear away from the phone. “When I was pregnant with our oldest, he didn’t deny any responsibility or tell me to get an abortion. He outright married me. We were only nineteen. And he was a great dad.”

“I don’t doubt he was any of those things,” Liv stated reassuringly, understanding the woman’s distress. But there’s another side to him you probably haven’t seen.

“Maybe there’s a way of reasoning with him,” she suggested, trying to believe that the monster they were chasing was still the man she’d married.

“Well, that’s what we need to find out,” Tim noted, wishing he had something better to say. But it was clear that by the end of the evening, the family would be broken up.

Finally, the call went through. “Callum, are you there? Listen—”

“Listen, I’ve been kidnapped! I’m being held at the sports centre near—” And then there was the sound of a clattering and the line went dead. All three people in the room looked from one another trying to digest the information. Slowly, the penny dropped.

“What the hell?” Liv asked, trying not to panic. She had so many questions, like how the hell had they’d been followed, and how had someone had been able to get Callum?

“What is going on?” Andrea asked, scared for her husband’s life.

“We’ve got to go,” Liv replied, rushing out of the house with Tim in close pursuit. “Do you know where the local sports centre is?”

“It’s about a twenty-minute drive from here,” he said manoeuvring the car through the streets. He went silent, and Liv could see the tension in him.

“You got something you want to get off your chest?” Liv asked, feeling like they were heading for a disagreement. And I think I know what it’s all about.

“Whoever’s got Callum,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “Are we really going to throw the book at them? I mean, the guy is a scumbag who’s ruined lives.”

“Tim, I’ve got just as much reason as you do to see this guy punished,” she began. “Probably more so because he put me in hospital. But we don’t get the luxury of choosing who we protect. And if this guy has taken it too far, no matter how sympathetic we feel towards him, we will have to arrest him for murder. It’s just the way it is.”

Tim snorted in a tone that said he understood the decision but certainly didn’t agree.

Liv surprised herself with the stance, considering the personal angle she’d taken before on cases. However, one of her recent resolutions was to try to take a less personal stance on cases for the sake of professionalism. She just hoped that it wasn’t going to backfire on her so soon into the new year.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry,” Callum pleaded frantically as Ross revved the engine, presumably to get a reaction out of him. “If you let me go, I promise I’ll disappear. You’ll never have to see me again, I swear. Just let me go.”

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ross sneered. “You disappear while the rest of us live with the damage. Well, no. I’m doing this so that you never hurt anyone else ever—”

“Think about Maddie,” the bound man insisted, remembering the how the man had described his girlfriend and how in his mind, she’d been a saint. “What would she say if she could see you doing this? You think she’d still love you?”

“You don’t get to say her name!” Ross snapped, kicking Callum in the face. “She’s dead because of you! And you know what? If she could see me now, she’d probably hate me, but I can’t deal with not having her. I just can’t.” He inhaled deeply and walked over to the car, opening up the driver’s side, ready to drag Callum along the pavement.

“Wait! Please!” Callum screamed at the top of his voice. But there was no mercy.

Suddenly, a police car pulled up into the car park, blocking Ross’ car from pulling out. DI Austin and DS Harris exited the car. “Ross!” Liv screamed, pounding on the window to the locked car. “We need you to get out here! You don’t have to do this!”

“I can just run him over, you know!” he snapped back from inside, reversing ever so slightly. A few more feet, and one of the wheels would go directly over—or rather through—Callum Drumming’s head. The man himself tried to shift out of the way, but to no avail.

“He has to pay for what he’s done!” Ross screamed, hands gripped to the steering wheel as though welded there. “For what he did to Maddie!”

“And he will pay,” Liv insisted, wondering if she should break the window. “But you shouldn’t have to. You’ve paid enough. And Maddie wouldn’t want this for you. I’m telling you now, you haven’t done anything you can’t come back from.”

But it was clear that the man’s heartache was overriding everything else.

“Ross, mate, listen,” Tim started, walking over to the car. “You do this and he’ll hurt for a few minutes, but then it’ll be over. And then you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison. It’s not worth it. Trust me, he’s not the only one.”

“What do you mean?” Ross asked, not taking his hands off the wheel, but looking up at the detective sergeant. Come on, Tim, don’t mess this up.

“I went to see a guy in prison who did the same as Callum,” Tim explained, reflecting on the meeting with Ralph Blake. “He got into this thing because he was bored and wanted a distraction. Didn’t give a damn who he hurt. And he actually had a good life beforehand. But he threw it all away because he was bored, and now he’s spending all of his time in a small cell living in fear of the other prisoners. On the few occasions he’s brave enough to ask himself, ‘is it worth it?’, the answer is never ‘yes’.” He paused, waiting to see if the words had any effect, and he could see the cogs turning in Ross’ head.

“You say you want him to suffer? Let us stick him in a cell for the rest of his life where he’s got nothing to do but look back on his impulse control problem. That’s the best kind of revenge.” Liv wasn’t sure how she felt about Tim appealing to the bereaved man’s need to see the criminal suffer, but if it worked, she was game for it.

Slowly, Ross removed his hands from the steering wheel and stopped the engine. He got out of the car, hands raised in the air.

“Thank you,” Tim stated before wrapping the weeping man in a hug. “It’s all right. Let’s get you out of here.” He led him over to the police car while Liv walked over to Callum.

Now that he knew his life was no longer in any danger, the bound man’s mood shifted towards entitlement. “You going to get me out of this?” he asked indignantly.

“You’re lucky me and my colleague turned up when we did,” she hissed, kneeling down to his level. “Otherwise, you’d be a blood smear on the road.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes, fighting off her own pain and exhaustion. “Before we start going through the process, do you have anything to say for yourself resembling a decent motivation? Something that to you was worth demolishing all those families?”

“It was just a bit of letting off steam,” he said with a shrug, clearly seeing no issue with the damage he’d wrought. Not exactly the forward-thinking type.

“Callum Drumming,” she stated, taking out her handcuffs, partly tempted to leave him on the ground. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Maddie Hughes, Jack Abbott, Johnny Creed, and the attempted murder of two serving police officers. You do not have to say anything, however, it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something under questioning that you later go on to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” She looked at Tim who was sitting Ross in the car and mouthed, “Well done.”

Every single person in the station struggled to hold back their contempt for Callum Drumming as he was marched towards the stairs, less for the crimes and more for the motivation. After all the people they’d dealt with, they couldn’t believe that someone could kill for such flimsy reasons. When it came to talking to Jack Abbott’s family, Liv wasn’t sure how she could tell them that he’d died because someone else was bored.

She wanted to make sure that she helped Ross Loughton however she could. Despite the kidnapping and attempted murder charges he was facing, she knew he wasn’t at fault, acting purely on grief. And I know that if it’d been Dean in that situation, I’d probably have taken it even further.

When she arrived home, she headed straight for the bed and fell asleep. Hell of a way to start the new year.

EPILOGUE

When Olivia awoke from her slumber, she heard the sounds of hushed voices in the background. She was still wearing her work clothes. She decided to head for a long shower. As she walked towards the bathroom, she picked up on the conversation.

“How long ago did it happen?” she heard Dean ask.

“A few years back,” Mariana’s voice replied. “The medication is just a precautionary measure, but I promise you, I’ve been cancer-free for years.”

Liv edged closer to the landing to listen in, her heart tense.

“Why didn’t you say anything at all?” Dean asked, clearly struggling to not to feel a little betrayed.

“Because you were getting on with your own life, and I wanted to get through it myself,” she replied, and Liv had to admire the woman’s strength.

“And when you came to stay over?” he continued, not confrontational but struggling to understand his mother’s thought process.

“I wanted to be with you without it hanging over our time together,” she told him. “I’ve told you before that I wanted to see my son and not waste my time being mollycoddled. Our time is precious enough as it is, Deangelo.”

“So, why are you telling me all about this now?” Dean asked, almost slipping into interrogation mode. “Is this some New Year’s resolution?”

Liv waited with bated breath for the answer, not sure which would be preferable.

“Liv found out,” she said, and though Olivia was glad that it was out in the open, she still felt like the axe had been brought down on her. She waited for Dean’s response.

“When was this?” he queried, his voice dangerously low.

“Four days ago,” his mother answered honestly. “”She came to check on me and saw all the meds. And before you start going and speaking to her, I swore her to secrecy. She wanted to tell you, and I know that the last four days have been killing her keeping it quiet from you. But it wasn’t her place to tell you. I decide who knows about my diagnosis and when. Olivia respected that. I don’t want you giving her any grief, Deangelo. You’ve landed yourself a woman of integrity, and if anything has convinced me that she’s right for you, it’s that. So please, find it in yourself to respect that quality.”

Dean nodded at this. Well, hopefully, he’s not going to bite my head off next time he sees me. As he got up, Liv snuck back to bed and pretended to be asleep, hoping that when she finally went downstairs, they could talk like grown-ups.

A few hours later, she had a much-needed shower, changed into her bathrobe, and went downstairs to where Dean was watching the TV. “Where’s Briggs?” she asked, looking around for the lovable mutt to come up and start licking at her.

“Mum’s taken him out for a walk. Said she needed the exercise,” Dean replied, turning off the TV and looking at her. “Mum told me about her cancer diagnosis.”

“Oh, right,” Liv answered, wondering if she should be sounding more surprised.

“I was a bit taken aback that you found out a few days ahead of me,” he continued, getting up and walking over to her. “But then again, it explains why you’ve seemed so withdrawn.” He placed his hands on her arms. “Can’t have been easy, keeping that quiet.”

“You have no idea what it did to me,” she answered, hoping she could get across the stress she’d been facing and knowing that a few of her colleagues could vouch for her.

“I think my mum was just sorry that you’d been put in that position in the first place,” he stated, holding her tight. “But I promise you, I really appreciate you doing that for her. And you’ve definitely gone up in her estimates. I think she’d threaten to disown me if I didn’t marry you.”

Liv beamed at that last bit, almost collapsing from the wave of relief.

The Skype call with Detective Sergeant Nikki Harding had become something of a running gag between the pair but was a welcome one. Liv hadn’t realised just how much she missed her partner and friend, but she understood that Nikki needed to get away from Newquay for a while to deal with the death of her husband. It saddened Olivia that Nikki felt she couldn’t do that on her home turf, but Liv respected the decision.

“Liv!” Nikki proclaimed loudly, speaking from the house she’d been placed in during her secondment. Looking in the background, Liv could see some effort had gone into making the place look more like a home—a carpet, some pictures on the mantelpiece.

“How you holding up over there, Nikki?” Liv asked, feeling like it’d been ages since they last talked, though they’d seen each other just before the Christmas break.

“Well, I haven’t got round to murdering my boss yet, so I get points for that,” she joked. Liv hadn’t met Nikki’s superior officer, but from what she’d heard, there was a confrontational relationship between the pair, with him being perpetually terrified of her being a bad influence on the younger recruits. “He’s not actually a bad guy now he’s managed to dislodge that stick up his arse, but he’s definitely not got a patch on you.”

Liv allowed herself to be flattered to hear that, remembering how turbulent her own partnership with DS Harding had initially been.

“But I don’t really want to talk about work. I spend so much time near dead bodies, I tend to neglect the live ones,” she continued. “So, how’s it been going down in Newquay? Everyone behaving themselves?”

“Well, Andrew’s just had his first case as a serving Detective Constable,” she said, proud with how the young man had conducted himself throughout his first major case. “Got into the wars a bit but seems to have come through no worse for wear.”

“I think it’s a rite of passage in CID when everyone gets attacked. I’ve got so many battle scars, my body would make a great atlas,” Nikki exclaimed.

Liv smiled, having missed the banter.

“Are you guys setting a date for the wedding yet?” Nikki asked, and Liv knew she was never going to let the subject drop until it’d actually been sorted.

“We’re getting there,” she insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “We’ve got a lot of plates spinning.”

“Ideally, you want to do it before I die of old age,” she snarked before suddenly turning serious. “Actually, Olivia, there is something I wanted to discuss with you, but I’m not sure how to go about it. And I want you to promise me you’re not going to discuss it with anyone.”

“Sure,” Liv replied, weary that she’d only just released the burden of keeping someone else’s secret and now she was forced back into the role of confidant barely a day later. But she listened intently as her friend spoke, trying to hide her surprise.

Liv walked through the station, turning Nikki’s revelations over and over in her head. A part of her wanted to head down to Derby and support her friend all the way, but she knew she couldn’t do that with all the chaos that’d been taking place in Newquay.

She went to get a coffee and saw Andrew already standing there, pouring a questionable amount of sugar into his own. “Do you plan on turning yourself into a diabetic?” she asked lightly.

He smiled weakly before saying, “It’s the only real stimulus I’m going to be getting for a while.”

Liv’s face fell as she read the body language. “Has something happened with Helen?”

“We had a very long chat,” he explained, leaning against the wall for support. “We still love each other, don’t get me wrong, but we want completely different things. And those things are taking us in separate directions. I can’t see that distance shrinking any time soon. And the fact that she managed to get all of this across without relying on psycho-babble really told me how bad it was. So, we agreed to a trial separation.”

“Does this mean that you’re… moving out?” she asked, hoping they could at least be civil in the same house.

“No, she’s going to go and visit her family for a while,” he answered. “Don’t know how long she’s going to be gone for, but you’ll just have to hope that you don’t have any suspects coming up in the next few weeks in need of psychoanalysing.”

“What happens after the trial separation?” she queried, her heart breaking for her friend. It angered her that Andrew would be the perfect man for a lot of women, yet he couldn’t find someone who deserved him.

“She thinks that having that distance might allow us to remember what started that spark in the first place,” he suggested. “But if she goes away for a few weeks and she doesn’t see anything worth sticking around for, we’ll have to call time on the relationship.”

“Oh, Andrew, I’m so sorry,” she offered, wrapping him in a hug.

“Don’t be,” he responded, trying to put on a show of bravado. “I mean, we had some good times. The last few years were fun. It’s just a shame we couldn’t stretch those years into a lifetime.” He went silent, and it was clear he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, so Liv decided to give him some space.

She started going through all the paperwork accumulating on her desk, trying to see if there were any other cases that needed her attention.

DS Archie Elmhurst would be back from leave any day now, and she could do with his upper-class wit.

The door to Superintendent Collins’ office opened. “DI Austin, could I have a word with you?” There was an underlying urgency in his voice that told her this couldn’t wait.

Putting the paperwork on hold, she went to speak with him.

“Close the door, please,” he instructed tersely. “I don’t want anyone getting any wind of this.”

“Getting wind of what, sir?” she asked, standing to attention.

“To the best if your knowledge, we don’t have any bad apples in the department, do we? Or rather, anyone with links to journalism?”

“Not that I know of.” Ever since PC Katie Gibson’s exposure as an undercover journalist, they’d been a lot more vigilant about who received what information.

“Because I had an email today from a woman telling me about a baby she’s recently had,” Collins explained, prompting a perplexed look from Liv.

“I don’t see what the problem is, sir,” she responded, hoping that he hadn’t dragged her into the office for a bit of gossip.

“It’s not what the problem is, Olivia, but rather, who,” he stated. “She is claiming the father is one of our serving police officers.”

THE END

TO BE CONTINUED…

Find out more in Book Forty-Four here: Poison Love Letters

DS NIKKI HARDING WILL RETURN IN HER OWN SERIES:

BOOK 1 - BLOOD LIKE WINE

RELEASE DATE COMING SOON!

Looking for Book Forty-Four? Don’t worry, it’s here!

Poison Love Letters - DI Austin Book Forty-Four

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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