Those We Know (DI Olivia Austin Book 4) Page 8

  JOEL RELATIONSHIP? CHECK ONLINE PRESENCE.

  “The department probably hasn’t notified his family yet,” she offered. “If we’re fast, we could call Collins and ask that we do that, try to get some insight from his relatives.” She absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the table as she suggested it.

  “Seems like as good a place to start as any,” Lawrence agreed. “And you should let Clara know that we’re looking for any sort of dating app information on Joel.”

  “Good. On it.” Olivia answered reaching for her phone, but her hand stopped short. “What if I’m completely fucking wrong and it really was just Turner all along?” The doubt had been creeping its way further and further into her mind with each passing minute, making space for itself alongside her splitting headache and sheer exhaustion.

  The question simply earned her a look from Lawrence.

  “I’d rather be vigilant,” Lawrence replied, “and possibly catch the real killer than assume it’s Joel and move on until he kills again.” His tone was dead set.

  Olivia nodded.

  “Thank you again for joining me on this… thing.” She knew he had his reservations about it, so the fact that Dean still willingly came over to help her meant the world to her.

  He’d already pulled his phone out and looked at the screen as he spoke.

  “Seriously, Liv, there’s nothing to thank me for.” He gave her a quick glance. “We wouldn’t be doing our due diligence without investigating every avenue.” He found a number and pressed the phone his to ear as he reassured her.

  “Hi, sir. It’s me,” he started, immediately launching into a conversation with Collins. Olivia could only hear his side of the conversation, but she got the gist. Dean was asking for Joel Turner’s next of kin information and requesting that they break the news.

  Olivia busied herself in the kitchen, pouring herself and Lawrence coffee in travel mugs lest she forget. She poured cream into her own and one sugar into her partner’s.

  The moment struck her; the last time she remembered someone’s go-to coffee request was with Rhys.

  Everything was hitting just a little too hard at the moment.

  She set the mug in front of Lawrence just as he was wrapping up his call with the detective superintendent.

  “We’re all set to inform the family,” he revealed, pleased with the outcome. “I’ve got their address so we can take off whenever.” Olivia wanted to kiss him on the cheek she was so grateful for him in that moment. “What?”

  He looked at her, eyebrow raised.

  “Nothing,” she smiled. “I’m just... I guess I’m just grateful you’re my partner, that's all.”

  “Don’t be getting sappy on me, Austin,” Lawrence warned with a smile. “And you know the minute you start getting comfortable, they’ll snatch you away for your own team.”

  “Sappy? Me?” she replied unable to hide her amusement. “Never!”

  Dean rolled his eyes and stood up.

  “It’s a good job I’m fond of you,” he announced sliding his arms into his jacket. He tidied the papers back into the file and picked them up along with his travel mug. “Right. Well, shall we?”

  “Let’s go,” Olivia answered, gathering her bag before following her partner out the front door. “We’ve got a killer to catch.”

  18

  Joel Turner had listed a single father as his next of kin in his paperwork, and luckily for Olivia and Dean, the man lived just outside of town. His house seemed rather run down; not terrible but not pristine either. It was a modest property with a nice lawn and some trees in the back.

  After parking the car, Lawrence took a deep breath, letting his eyes roll back into his head as he pressed against the headrest.

  “You all right?” Olivia asked, only offering him a glance before returning to study the father’s residence.

  Lawrence nodded.

  “Fine,” he breathed. “Notification has just never been my strong suit.”

  “I think you do a great job,” Olivia offered with a gentle smile. “I mean, if you wanted my opinion.”

  “Thanks.” He turned to her. “Doesn’t get rid of the rubbish feeling in my gut, unfortunately.”

  Before she could offer further consolation, he’d pushed his car door open and stepped outside.

  Olivia fell into line next to her partner with ease. She was itching; what for, she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was the fact that she hadn’t had the chance to properly grill Joel. That outlet needed to be transferred elsewhere. Why not pour it into his father?

  She knew that she couldn’t treat Mr. Turner like a murder suspect. It didn’t stop her nerves from tingling with anticipation, though.

  Lawrence rapped his knuckles against the front door, hanging his head as he did. Olivia wanted to give his shoulder a squeeze, offer him some sort of comfort, but she knew it would do little to help his internal war.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called out from behind the door.

  “I’m Detective Inspector Dean Lawrence from Devon and Cornwall Police, here with Detective Inspector Olivia Austin. We’re here to talk with a Mr....” he paused to remember the name given to them. Grant Turner. If we could just have a minute of your time, please, sir.” Lawrence answered the question with authority, straightening his shoulders to raise to full his height.

  “Do the pair of ya have badges?”

  Olivia did her best not to roll her eyes. She always found the sceptics frustrating, though she understood some of their wariness. She and Lawrence procured their identification, shoving it in front of the door’s peephole.

  After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an older, heavyset man in an off-white vest top and pair of trousers. His body was tanned, documenting the years it had probably spent in the sun. Any hair he’d had on his head was long gone, and he was rather short, so Olivia found herself looking down at him.

  “Mr. Grant Turner?” she inquired, a singular eyebrow perked up.

  He gave a gruff nod.

  “What’s this about?”

  Lawrence and Olivia locked eyes; they hadn’t actually decided who was going to inform Joel’s father about his son.

  “May we come inside?” Olivia eventually spoke. “It might be best to sit for this.”

  Concern flickered briefly across Mr. Turner’s face, but he quickly masked it.

  “Is it about my boy? Joel?” His voice betrayed him: he already knew something was wrong.

  “I’m afraid so, sir,” Olivia continued. “Your son, Police Constable Joel Turner hanged himself this morning whilst in detainment.” She let the statement hang in the air, allowing him to mull it over.

  “I... I’m sorry to hear that,” the older man sighed.

  Olivia gave Lawrence a nervous glance. For someone who’d just been informed of their son’s death, this man was surprisingly calm.

  “You don’t seem too... shocked,” Lawrence blurted out, studying Joel’s father.

  “When your son enters law enforcement, you don’t expect him to make it to a ripe age,” Grant replied grimly. He still lingered in the doorway; his frame partially obscured by the halfway open door.

  “Perhaps I wasn’t as clear as I could be,” Olivia replied. “Your son was in police custody when he hanged himself... as part of a murder investigation. Does that not surprise you at all?”

  Her tone was a bit more insistent, and she did her best to reign it back. She knew that if she opened herself up to the possibility of a full interrogation, she wouldn’t know where to stop. This was a notification, not a grilling session.

  Mr. Turner simply looked at her, eyes full of an odd sort of sorrow. He shook his head.

  “I can’t explain it, detectives,” he answered. “But I always knew Joel was different.” The complete acceptance with which he responded to the news baffled her. “I figured he’d go down either honouring the badge or defying it.”

  Olivia blanched at that comment.

  “You’re truly unsurprise
d that your son was suspected of multiple homicides? Really?” The old man shrugged.

  “Joel was different,” he answered, firm with his words. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  Both Detectives stood there for several moments, the comments from Grant Turner rendering them mute.

  “Did your son—did he interact with anyone recently whom you didn’t trust?” Lawrence asked. “Someone who may have encouraged his darker side?” Olivia could tell that the question was forming in her partner’s mind as he spoke it aloud.

  Mr. Turner scrunched up his nose.

  “I didn’t know the crowds he ran with much, to be honest,” he replied. “As far as I could tell, mostly he spent time with other officers, to be completely frank. Though we haven’t been close these days.”

  Interesting.

  “Did something cause you to drift apart?” Olivia asked.

  The older man thought for a moment, possibly wondering how much of the story he should tell.

  “I don’t know if I can pinpoint one thing,” he said warily. “I don’t have the best track record of being a father, and he didn’t have the best luck being a son.” For the first time, something that may have resembled pain washed across Mr. Turner’s face.

  “You’re sure you can’t think of anyone recently who Joel may have latched on to?” Olivia pressed. “A specific officer or girlfriend? A boyfriend even?” At the mention of the word, Grant’s eyes widened.

  “Joel wasn’t a homosexual,” he barked, fire in his voice. “So I don’t appreciate that implication.”

  He glared at the Inspectors.

  “Apologies, Mr. Turner,” Olivia replied, doing her best not to stare blatantly at Lawrence. “We just didn’t want to assume one way or another,”

  “Well, you should get your presumptive detective arses off my property before I file a complaint,” he warned.

  “Of course, sir.” Lawrence passed the man his card before gesturing for Olivia to lead the way back down the driveway. “That’s my number in case you feel the need to reach out. Apologies again for your loss.”

  At that, Mr. Turner sneered, and the door slammed shut without another word from Joel’s father.

  “Well,” Olivia sighed as they climbed into Lawrence’s car. “I suppose that answers some questions as to homicidal tendencies. That man became more emotional at the suggestion that his son was gay than at the news of his death.”

  Lawrence nodded.

  “With an attitude like that, it wouldn’t surprise me if the man punished Joel when he was younger,” he sighed with a slight shudder.

  Olivia winced.

  “So, what? Joel meets a man with whom he starts a torrid love affair,” she mused, adding everything together. “This man has the desire to murder, to claim his victims’ lives as his own, to completely consume them. Where does that leave Joel?” She could feel the pieces starting to fall into place, she just couldn’t see where they were leading—or how they would lead them to PC Turner’s co-conspirator.

  “If Joel had some sort of internalised hatred toward himself, participating in the killings could be some weird form of self-actualisation. Allowing him to become the man his father wanted him to be…” Lawrence shook his head even as he said it. “That still seems a bit bizarre, though.”

  “Self-actualisation... that’s a big word!” Olivia teased. “Let’s head back to my place and keep looking through the files. I’m sure we’ll hear back from Clara soon.”

  Lawrence nodded, turning on the ignition in the car.

  As they drove off, all Olivia could think about was the look of utter disgust on Grant Turner’s face when she had suggested his son had a boyfriend. It didn’t justify Joel’s actions by any means, but it also didn’t get rid of the foul taste the encounter left at the back of Olivia’s mouth.

  Who had ensnared him?

  19

  They’d been poring through files for hours. Olivia’s eyes had begun to droop, though she did her best to hide it from Dean. She had a sneaking suspicion that something was off with her concussion; her head just throbbed more and more the longer she worked, and even the words on the page in front of her turned fuzzy every now and again.

  But she couldn’t afford the time it would take to go in for a check-up. I’ll see a doctor as soon as we catch this bastard, she promised herself before tossing back another aspirin after excusing herself to the bathroom.

  Together, they’d managed to compile a detailed timeline of all of the events of the case.

  It had started with the murder of Rosie Whitford, followed by her flat being ransacked and methodically cleaned. Next came the killing of Charles Harrington and the activation of Rosie’s phone at his dumping site in the forest. After that came Olivia’s discovery of Harrington’s flat, where she had encountered someone who threatened to kill her. Later that night, PC Hershel had been abducted. They were unsure when Katie had been kidnapped, but Diana hadn’t seen her arrive, only her removal and murder (Olivia winced at the thought). That had been followed by Katie’s body being dumped in front of the police station, and then finally the following and capture of Joel Turner.

  After about two hours, Clara had sent over a detailed timeline of any record she could find of Joel in the past week. Police logs, Newquay Police Station footage… she’d compiled it all, and with a speed that frankly amazed Olivia.

  Once they lined up Clara’s timeline with their own, a pattern clearly emerged. As far as they could tell, Joel had no alibi for each and every incident.

  In other words, it was perfectly plausible that he had acted entirely on his own.

  “There has to be something here,” Olivia sighed as she mulled over the timeline once again, frustration digging deep in her gut. “Is there something we’re missing? Forgetting?”

  “Maybe it’s time we turn to the physical evidence,” Dean urged. “We could call in Elliot and see if he has any new evidence with Katie’s body.”

  Olivia could see the precursor to defeat hovering over her partner, dragging at his limbs. He’d given up one of his rest days to chase her whim. She couldn’t let it have been in vain.

  “Dr James told us he’d call with any major updates,” she replied. “But maybe he is our best shot right now.”

  Lawrence took the comment as a sign of approval. He whipped out his phone, getting ready to call Elliot. But just before he could, Olivia’s phone sounded.

  “It’s Clara,” she announced before answering.

  “Hi, it’s Liv. You’re on speaker with Dean,” she answered.

  Her partner put his phone back down on the table and settled back in his chair.

  “Good,” she breathed. “Listen you two, I can’t talk long, but I’ve been doing some digging into Joel Turner’s personal files and whatnot and... well... there’s something you both should know.” She spoke with a whisper and Olivia wondered if she’d stayed in the room with Diana or had taken the opportunity to sneak out for a moment.

  “Please, just say it,” Olivia insisted. She always appreciated her friend’s flair for the dramatic, but sometimes it made plying information from her a long process. And when they were up against the clock, delays made her insides twist with impatience.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “There’s just... well, there’s one phone number that shows up on Joel’s records repeatedly. He calls and texts it frequently. It’s a burner phone, as far as I can tell, so there isn’t anyone attached to it by name. So, I figured I’d play detective for a minute on a whim and just give it a ring, see if I could figure out who owned it.” Her explanation carried on, voice tinged with drama and anticipation.

  “The point, Clara,” Dean urged, clearly as impatient as Olivia felt.

  “The point is,” she sighed. “The guy picked up. And I knew his voice.” The tech analyst’s tone had become quite grave. “Liv.”

  Olivia’s eyebrows raised at her name. Why was she addressing her?

  There was silence until Clara spoke again.


  “Liv... It was Andrew Shaw.”

  Olivia felt the blood drain from her face, her eyes wildly searching for a sign in Dean’s eyes.

  It couldn’t be.

  20

  “What... what do you mean?” Olivia stuttered, her eyes darting back and forth around the room, searching for something to focus on. “I... I don’t understand…”

  Before Clara could answer her questions, Lawrence’s voice came through, quiet but low.

  “And you’re absolutely certain?” he questioned, and she could tell that he was taking this revelation extremely seriously.

  “I’m positive.” Her voice echoed Lawrence’s grim demeanour.

  The world dizzied in front of Olivia’s eyes. She could barely form the words to speak through the shock.

  Again, Dean came to her rescue.

  “Thank you for letting us know, Clara.” He remained the voice of reason even as she felt herself begin to crumble.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at her partner, but she could tell from the way he talked that his lips were probably pulled into a thin grimace, his nose slightly wrinkled as if he had just tasted something sour.

  “We’ll follow the lead,” he continued. “If you could text me the burner number and any information you have on that, it would be extremely helpful.”

  Clara quickly confirmed it, and an awkward silence hung in the air as Olivia felt bile rise in her throat.

  Her friend’s voice softened even more.

  “Liv, honestly, I’m so sorry,” she muttered.

  “Why would you tell me you’re sorry?” Olivia demanded, shooting to her feet. Bad idea. The world spun out of her control, making her reel even more. She reached out a hand to steady herself on the back of her chair.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she managed to get out before rushing to the other side of the kitchen. The nausea overwhelmed her, thrusting her head forward as she spilled her guts into the sink.