What He Sees (DI Olivia Austin Book 7): A fast-paced crime thriller Read online

  What He Sees

  DI Olivia Austin - Book Seven

  Nic Roberts

  Copyright © 2021 by Nic Roberts

  * * *

  ‘What He Sees’

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  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.

  Contents

  Love to read Detective Thrillers?

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Book Eight

  Missed Book One?

  Love to read Detective Thrillers?

  About the Author

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  What He Sees

  A sick voyeur, a deep obsession and a detective confronting the darkest of humanity.

  * * *

  Just as Detective Inspector Olivia Austin is settling into a solid routine with her new partner, an envelope filled with destruction is found at the door to the station leaving her feeling violated and exposed.

  * * *

  Someone out there is watching and with no idea who, it’s only the start of how dark and twisted their obsessed perpetrator is.

  * * *

  Then the case turns deadly, and Olivia is forced to confront her fears and vulnerability to find the person behind the madness before she becomes his next victim.

  Prologue

  He watched her from the window, his heart racing at what seemed like a million beats per minute as he saw her from his hidden perch.

  The sight of her curves as she reached over her double bed for her dressing gown bewitched him, and as she slid the thin material around her frame, he swallowed back the excitement that scorched through his body.

  No. He'd save that for later. Now, however, he wanted to enjoy the moment first-hand. He didn’t want to miss a second of his own personal private show.

  He ducked down slightly as she turned toward the window. He was almost certain she couldn't see him, but that didn’t stop him imagining what her acknowledgement would feel like.

  He'd do anything to make her see that he was worthy of her notice—certainly at least ten times more than that silly fool who came knocking. He'd show her that he was worth it and then she'd never want him to leave.

  His stomach dropped as she swiped the curtains shut, and blood froze in his veins. He pushed back the sleeve of his coat furiously, swiping to see his watch.

  What? It was only 9.30pm. She never closed the curtains in her bedroom before 10.

  Why would she do this to him? He blinked several times as he registered that she’d affronted him in such a way. It wasn’t like her to deny him. Their connection was special, intimate.

  Shock morphed into anger as he moved the images he'd taken on his phone to the special hidden folder he'd created and climbed down from the tree. He landed catlike on his feet, careful to not make a sound.

  Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t shake the anger that he felt at being blindsided.

  It was irrational, yes—and crazy and uncouth—but she was his.

  She had been ever since he'd first laid eyes on her. He’d known it with every fibre of his being, like his soul had been called home.

  But he knew then that the timing wasn’t right; that she wasn’t ready for them to connect quite yet. So he chose to bide his time, excited for when his sweet would become his own.

  He'd had to spend months hiding and watching her from afar, giving her space. The least she could do was keep her fucking curtains open.

  His feet had evidently moved of their own accord while he wallowed in his rage; he stood at her back door now, filled with all the things he wanted to do or say.

  He pictured his fingers around her neck, watching the life drain from her beautiful eyes, content that he would be the last thing she ever saw. Or he imagined himself on top of her, pinning her hands back as she received all of him, mouth stuffed so nobody would hear her scream...

  Instead, he took a deep breath and stepped back. It was tempting, knowing all of the opportunities that lay just on the other side of that door. All of his options if he only took the next step.

  No. He wasn’t going to do that. Not tonight anyway.

  Her act of nonchalance had angered him, but he wasn’t going to deprive himself of getting to watch her naked curves each week from his safe spot.

  No. Tonight she'd live... and later, she'd have no choice but to make it up to him.

  And then…then she'd be sorry.

  1

  Detective Inspector Dean Lawrence rubbed his palms together as breakfast was set in front of him, the slight, unquestionable stench of burning hovering in the air.

  “Perfect.” He looked up at Olivia, his gaze softer than a puppy.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Don't give me that pre-kiss look,” she teased, giving his hair a bit of a tussle for good measure.

  He held her stare.

  “This is beautiful. Thank you.” He gesticulated with a dramatic wave of his hand as if he were surveying a meal fit for a king.

  There was a moment of pause as they looked at each other before laughter erupted between them.

  Liv hit him playfully on the arm.

  “You’re a fool! What on earth were you expecting?” she asked, feigning offence. “Smoked salmon? This isn’t The Dorchester!” She poured some coffee into his mug.

  Dean struggled to contain his amusement.

  “No, clearly not.” He ran a hand through his dark curls. “But honestly, it's perfect. Thank you. And you got the fancy china out for me too, I see!”

  Olivia laughed as he pointed to the plain white mug that had numbers printed on the side of it.

  “I mean, I don’t know what 1194151 means,” he teased, pointing at the inscription. “But I’ll take it!”

  Liv rolled her eyes even as a slight ping seared in her chest, so small as to barely be worth notice.

  “I’ve got no idea either!” She lifted the tea towel folded beside her. “This has got it, too. I’m honestly convinced my mum has been planting them around the house as a hint to my lack of furnishings. I should send you on a treasure hunt to find them all!”

  Her former partner threw his head back and laughed.

  “I actually like it,” he shrugged with amusement. “Who needs a brand name when you c
an just have numbers, hey?”

  Olivia couldn’t agree more, and she settled down at the table opposite him, ready to tuck into her own plate of burnt toast with a scraping of butter, because in all her haste, she'd forgotten to order it on the shopping list.

  Dean was only being polite, though, insisting on eating it. She knew that. And that was what she found endearing about him. She'd insisted on making more, but he wouldn’t have it. Even though she was the one who'd invited him round for a pre-work breakfast.

  She covered her mouth as she watched him take a bite, hiding the smile that threatened to push through.

  “Mmmm,” he offered. “Crisp rating 10/10. Nice.”

  Olivia laughed.

  “You're a fucking bad liar, that's what you are!” she playfully scolded him. “Just let me make some more!”

  Lawrence took another forced bite.

  “What and waste the last of the butter?” he asked trying to keep his amusement at bay. Though she shook her head, Olivia’s smirk had widened into a grin at his jest. “I think not!”

  Olivia's loud ringtone played out from the lounge next door, and she groaned.

  He looked at his watch.

  “Bit early,” he said. “I'll say it's either your mum or Collins.”

  She left the table to retrieve her phone, groaning inwardly again as she read the name on the screen. Her pride and joy, Earnest, trotted away from the living room. Her black cat had only just begun to warm up to Lawrence, but he tended to avoid people when she had visitors.

  “Collins,” she grumbled to Dean as she arrived back at the table. She let the call ring off.

  “Not going to answer it?” he asked.

  Liv shrugged slightly.

  “I mean, we'll be leaving here in about fifteen minutes,” she estimated. “And we aren’t due to start for another hour!”

  She bit into her burnt toast just as her phone rang again.

  Dean nodded at her to pick it up.

  “Two calls?” he hissed. “Must be important.”

  She took a gulp of coffee to wash down the dry toast just as she answered it, not realising how hot it still was. The liquid scorched her tongue and throat.

  “Fuck! Shit! Hi, sir!” she jumped up from her seat. Lawrence pushed his cold glass of orange juice into her hand, and she took gratefully.

  She gulped it down quickly, grateful for the cool slake down her throat. A tiny cough raised her shoulders as her body reacted to the cold drink.

  “Olivia? Are you all right?” She zoned back into her boss on the other end of the phone. It didn’t escape her notice that he used her first name. “Olivia?”

  Leaning over the counter, she scraped her hair back, adjusted the phone, and paused for a moment to gather herself.

  “Hello, sir. Sorry, I’m here.”

  It was his turn to pause.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, the concern strong in his voice.

  She cringed inwardly as she remembered her swearing.

  “Sorry, yes, I just...” Don’t mention the coffee and toast. Don’t. “...I spilt some hot water. Is everything okay on your end? I didn't hear your first call...”

  She waved her hand at Dean, who was scoffing at her slight alteration of the truth.

  “No, things aren’t okay, Olivia.” Collins' tone sounded grave. It was a huge shift from the laidback morning she’d been enjoying with Lawrence. “I need you to come in immediately. Now, please.”

  Liv whipped round to look at Lawrence.

  “Now?” she echoed, for the benefit of her former partner to hear, too. He frowned curiously.

  “That would be best,” Det Supt Collins confirmed. “Is that possible? How soon could you be here?”

  His urgency made her hesitate. She glanced over at Dean who was inspecting the underside of his charcoal toast.

  “Thirty minutes?” she offered using her other hand to pull the hair away from the back of her neck where sweat had gathered. “Is this for a new case?”

  Her superintendent cleared his throat.

  “Make that fifteen, and report straight to me, please,” he answered. “And it's a personal matter...”

  His reply shot ice through her veins. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

  “Sir...” she started but he interrupted her.

  “Fifteen,” he pressed and ended the call.

  Slowly, she put her phone down on the counter.

  “Thirty minutes for... what is it?” Dean asked rising from his seat once he noticed her expression. His brows were furrowed as he watched her.

  “Collins wants me to come in now...” she answered, numbness tinging the edge of her emotions. “I...”

  DI Lawrence squeezed her shoulder.

  “He didn’t say what he wanted?”

  Olivia shook her head.

  “Only that it was a personal matter and...” She trailed off. From the moment he'd said those words, all kinds of scenarios had forced their way into her head.

  Mills murdered by Max? Her father committing suicide at the thought of coming so close to finding Alex... Alex. Her thoughts stopped with him. Had they found him? His lifeless body...

  “Don't do it to yourself,” Dean warned, reading her mind. “Honestly, don't go there.” He reached for his keys. “You ready?”

  Olivia looked back at her friend and former partner. Despite only knowing her for the best part of several months, the bond they shared had only gone from strength to strength.

  He seemed to know and understand her, even in her darkest moments.

  “I think so...” she replied quietly. “I just... What if...”

  “Don’t,” he warned her firmly. “I know you, Olivia. Playing through your laundry list of what ifs won’t be any help.” She shot him a loaded glance.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Maybe it was divine intervention or something else that saved me from that toast of yours. Get your stuff together and meet me in the car.” She tightened her lips into a quirked smile at his comment about the toast, though her heart still felt as if it were dropped below her chest.

  Satisfied that he'd managed to leave her with a smile, he made his way to the front door, and she waited for him to close it behind him before she clutched her chest in panic.

  A quick sprint to the bathroom cabinet intensified her panic, and she grabbed around it until she found her diazepam where she'd hidden it from PC Shaw’s prying eyes.

  She took her dose and washed it down with water before smoothing her hair and straightening her blouse.

  Now, she was ready for anything.

  Or so she thought.

  2

  Olivia’s nerves felt ready to jump at anything even after the medication. Lawrence had managed to crack a few jokes and ramble on about which gift to get his dog for her fourth birthday. It had helped distract her a bit, but the awareness of Collins’ call still buzzed at the back of her head.

  They quickly made their way through Newquay police station to Detective Superintendent Stephen Collins’ office.

  Olivia's heart sunk immediately as she noted a couple of her colleagues watching her as she passed. Their eyes bore holes into the back of her head.

  She turned to Dean.

  “I can’t do this...” she whispered.

  He put both of his hands on her respective shoulders and steered her the right way.

  “You can.” He assured her. “I'll stay with you. It's okay.”

  She was glad of his company and even more so once their boss caught sight of her and beckoned her in.

  “That will be all Inspector,” he said to Dean.

  “I'd like him to stay,” Olivia interjected. She noted her boss’ raised eyebrow.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  He probably thought there was something going on between them, but at this point, she didn’t care. She needed to be put out of her misery.

  “For moral support,” she nodded.

  “Very well,” he confirmed and gestured for t
hem both to sit.

  Olivia politely declined; Dean stayed standing too.

  Det Supt Collins inhaled deeply before he spoke, the expression on his aged face rather pained, perhaps even more so than when he thought that they’d found Alex.

  “Just tell me!” she blurted out, panic rising. “Is it my family, sir? Who? What?”

  She caught sight of Dean's calming look. Breathe, his eyes urged her. She pulled a deep inhale through her nose, doing her best to squash the rising panic building in her body.

  “Sorry,” she sighed after mentally counting to ten. “Please, go on.”

  “I understand it's worrying.” Her boss soothed in his own way. “But we need to ascertain if you’ve ever noticed anything strange around your property recently. Any odd characters? Unusual cars? People you know with a grudge?”

  A grudge?

  The image of Rhys's ex-wife came into her mind. The anger and hatred in her eyes when she'd been caught scratching his car or the words of hate she'd spewed at Olivia when she found out they were dating.

  But that seemed like an age ago. Michelle wouldn’t carry the grudge even though Rhys had died. Would she?

  Olivia gave a quick shake of her head.

  “I’m sure I’ve made enemies in this profession, but nothing of note comes to mind,” she replied, her eyebrows furrowing. “What—” she started asking, though she wasn’t sure how to finish the question.