All Their Faces

  DI Olivia Austin - Book Eight

  Nic Roberts

  Copyright © 2021 by Nic Roberts

  * * *

  ‘All Their Faces’

  * * *

  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

  Book Nine

  Missed Book One?

  Love to read Detective Thrillers?

  About the Author

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  All Their Faces

  Same face, same fate, different stories

  * * *

  Random men with the same features are being stalked or found dead across town.

  * * *

  DI Olivia Austin must find out if they are all connected, or if it’s just a sick coincidence.

  * * *

  Either way, there’s a sick killer on the loose, but can she stop them and uncover the truth before the bodies start to pile up?

  * * *

  Prologue

  Candlelight illuminated her face against the darkness of the restaurant.

  Flames danced and flickered across the chasm between her and the empty space opposite.

  One quick look at her watch, then another, and still no sign of him.

  She tried to find an ounce of happiness in her. Just one that would keep her from screaming out, crying, or making a scene, but she struggled. Struggled to hold it together.

  He was supposed to be the one. He was supposed to drag her from the desperate pit she found herself in and then they were supposed to get married and have babies and do the whole ‘settled down’ thing.

  At least that was what the psychic had told her. The one from the internet.

  She checked her watch again. Forty-two seconds since she'd last looked, and there was still no sign of him. Nothing. Nada.

  She fought for breath as she felt her world implode around her, tugging at her jumper for some kind of air, any kind of substance she could inhale that would stop the pain she felt at being stood up by her soul mate.

  The waitress came over. More water? Would you like to keep waiting? All questions designed to humiliate. To reinforce the fact that she’d been stood up. But nobody would know how broken she was inside. Nobody could tell.

  Because all they saw was the smile. All they saw was the happy woman who laughed loads and didn’t need anyone.

  But if they'd bothered to look underneath her polished shell, they’d no doubt see her unopened prescription hidden in her bedroom cabinet and the scars on her arms that she hid with long sleeves.

  To her, Luca Thrapston was supposed to be her knight in shining armour. The anticipation of how great he would make her feel had been reason enough for her to stop taking her bipolar meds.

  The anticipation of meeting him had made her throw caution to the wind and change her number, deleting all trace that her therapist ever existed, and to cut ties with her mother.

  Luca was the first real thing she’d had, and he was her fresh start.

  Until now.

  Now, she'd lost it all.

  The restaurant was closing. He was a no-show. No phone call, no text. Luca was just another big fucking disappointment.

  She stalked the streets after she left, trying to make sense of how one minute she was dancing on cloud nine and was now left wondering what the hell she'd done wrong.

  “Nice legs!” someone shouted at her, but she didn’t look at them, didn’t even care what they had to say because instead she ran, as up ahead, walking into the park on his phone was her dear Luca.

  So he was okay? He was fine?

  She wasn’t angry. She'd forgive him. She'd give him another chance to make her happy.

  Why the fuck not?

  He jumped when she appeared in front of him, and he ended his call quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket.

  “Who was that?” she asked. She knew her eyes were wide open with adrenaline, but she couldn’t help the anticipation, fear, and excitement.

  He looked at her, confused.

  “Um...”

  Her patience was dissolving.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  He watched her for a moment before moving past her, continuing his walk in the park.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Luca,” she hissed. Now she was getting annoyed. He at the very least owed her an explanation. She’d been at the restaurant for four and a half hours.

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.

  “You've got the wrong guy,” he answered nonchalantly. “I'm not Luca, you loon.”

  She bristled at the word as he turned to keep walking off.

  “Wait!” she called. “It's me, Isla.”

  She could tell from his body language that he was starting to get annoyed. But she didn’t understand why. They were supposed to be together. Why would he stand there and act as though she was a stranger? They'd talked online for months before they first met. They’d planned this date every day for the past four weeks.

  He took his hands out of his pocket to point at her as he turned to face her.

  “Fuck off home, Isla,” he barked. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but just go home.”

  His words stung.

  She took her phone out. Luca's picture was her background.

  The same man that now stood in front of her.

  “it is you,” she insisted. “Blonde hair, green eyes... stubble...”

  Isla held the phone up to show him.

  He laughed.

  “That's not me!” he scoffed. “But whoever he is, he got a lucky escape. Now just back off, okay? Drop it and get home safe.”

  He watched her for a moment and then, with slight amusement, he shook his head pitifully and then turned and walked away.

  But Isla knew it was him. She knew her soul mate. She felt the energy, and she hated him. Hated that he could see her there wanting and still just walk away.

  What had she done to deserve being stood up?

  What had changed?

  With shaking hands, she bent to the floor and picked up one of the rocks that lined the path.

  Were her thoughts rational or irrational? She didn’t know, but her inner monologue told her to continue. To not let him get away with treating her so badly.

  So, with all her might and effort, she ran at him, smashing the rock into the back of his skull.

  He let out a strangled cry as he fell, staggering forwards on hands and knees. He looked beautifully confused.

  He turned to face her, eyes spaced out, unsure what had just happened.

  “Why didn’t you want me, Luca?” she screamed.

  He couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no words came out, and he reached a hand up to her.

  She wanted to hold it, but the anger took over and she slammed the rock down again.

  His face crumpled beneath the force. Now, lying there with his eyes closed, she panted, out of breath.

  One more, her inner monologue urged. Just so he knows you're serious and then he'll apologise.

  She did it again, crashing the rock against his skull.

  What once was his bright blonde hair, now turned a dark shade of red as blood oozed from his crushed head.

  She threw the rock down and waited. Waited for him to tell her he was sorry. For him to say that he didn’t mean to make her wait four hours and that he would be worth coming off her meds for.

  But he didn’t move. No words came out apart from a muffled groan.

  She jumped as his phone rang out into the dark, empty park, and she reached into his pocket to pull it out.

  Grace was calling. Who the fuck was Grace? He'd never mentioned her before. Ever.

  She answered the call without speaking.

  “Hello? Jordan?” the voice on the other end called. “Are you okay? You cut me off! Jordan? Hello? Helloooo?”

  Isla hung up quickly, panic starting to rise from her stomach.

  Who was Jordan?

  As he groaned, she searched his pockets for his wallet, her fingers tearing it open with an urgency she’d never known.

  Mr Jordan Carter. That was on his bank card. The same name was on his Tesco's club card and his

driving licence.

  Fuck.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  So, he wasn’t Luca. Luca was still out there somewhere?

  Blinding by tears, she threw his wallet down and stepped back.

  “Sorry… you aren’t him?” she said to the crumpled body of her accidental victim. “I'm sorry you're not Luca.”

  And with that, she ran as fast as she could through the park—racing heart, windswept hair, and on her lips a vow that she’d find him no matter what, and then she’d make him explain.

  1

  “If you don't get up now, you never will.”

  Detective Olivia Austin turned away from the voice and subsequent kiss on her shoulder, and it took a moment for her drag herself from the depths of her sleep.

  “I made you something to eat.”

  That voice again. PC Andrew Shaw’s to be exact. She pushed herself up in the bed, regretting that late night bottle of wine they’d shared followed by an even later tousle between the sheets.

  In front of her, the constable was already dressed for work.

  She glanced at her phone.

  “Shit, Andrew! You should have woken me up!”

  He gave her an easy smile and pushed the plate beside her closer.

  “Eat,” he instructed. “Besides, you looked far too peaceful to disturb.”

  He straightened up and fixed his hair in the mirror behind him.

  Still not one hundred percent awake, she took a bite out of the bacon sandwich he’d made her, disappointed that she’d broken the promise to herself not to drink so much on the night before work.

  “What time does your shift start?” she asked.

  Andrew looked back at her, his eyes dancing across her naked chest briefly before gliding back up to meet her gaze.

  “In ten minutes, actually,” he groaned. “I’m also running late. If I go, promise you won’t go back to sleep? I don’t want Grumps to be blowing my phone up asking where you are.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m not twelve,” she informed him with a playful firmness. “Go ahead, go. Don’t be late on my account.”

  He gave her a nod, went to leave the room, but stopped short and turned back to her.

  “Liv...” He marched back over to the bed and smothered her face in kisses.

  Eventually, she pushed him away amidst a sea of laughter.

  “You’ve lost your mind!” she chuckled as he straightened his black shirt. “Now, go!”

  She heard him laughing as he disappeared from her room and only when she heard the front door bang shut did she collapse back onto her pillows.

  Don’t do this to yourself.

  She tried to shake the ache deep within her chest. The similarities were going to kill her. As much as she enjoyed Andrew’s company and loved having his youthful optimism around her, the mornings, especially one like this, only reminded her as though on a loop of that morning when Rhys had left their flat for the last time.

  The happiness they’d endured. The romance, the love, the energy. Everything that had been and now no longer was. She pined for it. Sometimes, she longed to be right in that moment again, and instead of getting out of that shower and getting dressed, she wished they’d thrown caution to the wind, stuck two fingers up at their boss, and stayed in bed.

  Then he’d have been alive.

  He’d have been here.

  She looked down at the mostly eaten breakfast Andrew had made and the guilt nearly overwhelmed her.

  It wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t nice to harbour these torturous thoughts when he’d been nothing but lovely to her.

  Right now, despite there being no label, he made her happy. The sex was good—better than good—and, for the most part, it distracted her away from how broken she really was.

  After a quick glance at the time and a long sentence of swearing, she rushed down the rest of her breakfast, gulped the lukewarm coffee Andrew had made her, and jumped in the shower.

  She didn’t have time to wallow in the warmth of it as she’d barely let the water touch her when she heard her phone ringing from the bedroom.

  Dripping wet, she wrapped a towel around herself and conscious of any voyeurs in the trees, ducked down like a lunatic and shuffled to her bed.

  She answered it just before it stopped.

  “Morning, Sir!” she half shouted into the phone as she collapsed from her crouched position.

  He paused before speaking.

  “Olivia,” he replied, no amusement in his voice.

  She pulled herself to her knees and tackled the towel back around her whilst trying to balance the phone between her shoulder and ear.

  “I’m here, Sir. Sorry, I just...”

  The phone fell, and in her desperate attempt to catch it, she hit it under the bed.

  “Is this a bad time?” Det Supt Collin’s asked, somewhat impatiently.

  Olivia slid her hand around until she found it and pulled it out. By this time, her towel had fallen, and she sat in a naked, wet, frustrated heap on the floor.

  She took a deep breath and put the phone back to her ear.

  “No, it’s fine, Sir. I’m good.”

  If only he could have seen it! she mused to herself. She spotted the time again. Shit.

  He cleared his throat, ready to speak.

  “A body has been found,” he announced firmly. “I need your team on the case. Archie’s already making his way there. I’d like you to meet him. It’s at Trenance Gardens. Officers are already on scene and have put up a police cordon.”

  Olivia scraped back her wet hair.

  “God, do we know anything more?”

  Her boss sighed.

  “A young male, severe facial injuries,” he replied, knowing where that comment would take her mind. “That’s all I’ve been told so far, sorry. Archie will meet you on scene and brief you. Whereabouts, are you? DI Lawrence said you were making your own way in today...”

  Olivia looked around her. No use pretending.

  “I’m still at home,” she resigned. “But I’m about to leave. I’ll call you if we need anything.”

  She heard Collins inhale deeply at her revelation, as truth be told, she should have arrived at work by now ready to and waiting to start.

  “Yes, do that,” he agreed. “I’ll speak to you later.”

  He ended the call before she had a chance to say anything more, and she made her way back to the safe confines of her bathroom to dry herself.

  She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, still unable to fully recognise the woman she was now—the hardened detective she’d had to become just to get through the loss of her partner and the continued mystery surrounding her brother’s disappearance.

  Every murdered young male set her heart on fire, but despite that, she reached into the cabinet and took one of her pills, steeling herself against her inner turmoil.

  For now, the rest of her shower would have to wait. There was a body to see, and she just hoped with everything inside her that it was Alex.

  2

  Detective Olivia Austin’s heels crunched over fallen leaves as she made her way across the now sinister park to the crime scene.

  What once was a silent, tranquil place looked like a scene from a BBC drama with police cars, an ambulance, flashing lights, and bystanders up against the blue police tape.

  She made her way over to the cordon.

  The officer there turned to her when he heard her approach.

  Shaw!

  She swallowed back her reaction on seeing it was him, and he gave her the smallest of smiles. So small that to anyone else it would have gone unnoticed, but she knew. She also knew that mere hours ago she’d clung to him as they made love in her bed.

 

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