What Lies Beneath

Chapter 12

By Friday afternoon, Olivia was still waiting.

Waiting for Amanda Brook’s contact information and the DNA results of Finley Scott. She had sent off the r**e Kit to the lab for comparison yesterday afternoon and just prayed they won’t keep her waiting well into the next week.

With closer inspection into Dona’s past, it became clear why this case had just slipped through the cracks. Her mother has been in and out of rehab all her life - meth. At the time of the murder, she had another relapse and was of little use to the investigator. Her father had left the picture when she was twelve and her brother had made a break for England five years ago. Olivia idly wondered if he knew of her passing. Her ex-boyfriend, and her best friend, never cared to follow up and the investigation.

Even with all the people in her life, Olivia saw only loneliness. Perhaps that’s why she herself found some solace in the bottom of a bottle and a handsome man giving her the attention she craved so deeply.

Olivia called the UK number the detective had scribbled down for Sam Holden. But didn’t connect. Logging into f*******:, she checked to see if she could find his profile. No luck, there’s just too many men in the UK and USA named Sam Holden. She didn’t even know what he looked like. Deciding to leave it for the weekend, she once again studied the left corner of the selfie. Finley’s hair had been longer in this picture, but a lot can change in two years. Cursing the pause her investigation was taking, she packed the evidence back into the box and shoved it under her desk. It was going to drive her crazy.

Amanda is vital to this case. Olivia needed to know why she lied about being with Finley. Covered for him just to take off into the night without a backward glance. Guilt? Fear? “Damnit s**t!” she cursed with frustration she shot up without an idea about where she was heading and just took off.

She found herself in the convenience store down the road, standing in front of the counter displaying various colors and brands of cigarette boxes. “Marlboro,” Olivia decided, and the cashier, without knowing that she had quit five years ago, handed it to her as she added a lighter, a pack of Lays and a Coke to go along with it. Paying for her purchases, she tugged her smokes, along with her new lighter in her pocket and headed back to the station. Passing the smoker’s corner, she headed back inside. Not feeling any less agitated walking off some steam, Olivia had a feeling that she’ll be opening that pack of cigarettes before the end of the day.

Olivia was rummaging through her drawers looking for some aspirin when his voice made her pause. “Detective Pearson?” Quickly looking up, she saw Detective Mason Riley standing in her office doorway.

She cleared her throat. “Detective Riley,” she greeted him.

“How’s your second week been?” He made some small talk.

She blinked and answered him after a few needed seconds of getting her thoughts unscrambled. “It hitting a wall for a bit.”

“Happens to all of us.” He gave her a small smile.

“Is there something I can help you with, Detective?”

He nodded. “There was a case I worked on last year that ran cold, Roland Lincoln.”

“The suicide cover-up?” Olivia scanned through the files, passing Cindy Jones. She pulled the file he was referring to. Mr. Lincoln, found hanging from a tree in the backyard of his home. It looked like a suicide, but the killer had made few telling mistakes. There was no surface Mr. Lincoln could have stepped off, seeing as it was too high up. She remembered her eyebrows had shot up at the evidence. The person who had pulled Mr. Lincoln up that tree must have had some serious muscle. The thick branch had signs of chafing, and the rope had unravelled from the friction caused by the pulling motion. There were also two sets of ligature marks around his neck, which clarified that someone strangled him and hung post-mortem.

“I think we just found another body–Gerhard Weser. Same modus operandi, only this time someone tossed him over the stair railing with a rope around his neck, there were two sets of ligature marks.” He came inside and sat in a chair in front of her desk. “May I?” He motioned for the file.

“Sure.” She handed the file over and watched him as he flipped through it. He was frowning, his lip caught between his teeth in concentration. His eyes met hers suddenly, and she nearly apologized for staring. “See anything?” she asked instead.

“I think this is the same killer. Everything seems nearly identical except for the victim, though the victims were both born in the same year. Even the DOD’s are too close to be a coincidence. See?” He showed Olivia the date of death on Mr. Lincoln’s file.

“You got the body today?” she asked.

“Yes, waiting for the coroner’s time of death. But he hasn’t been there longer than a day.”

“That means that the murders are on the same day, one year apart.”

He nodded.

“So we need to find a connection between the victims or find out why this day was important to the killer. Do you have any suspects yet?”

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Kat and I can handle that. I was actually just looking for Roland Lincoln’s file.”

“Oh,” she said, deflated. She didn’t know why it felt like she was being left behind at the park. “Of course.”

He took the file “We’ll keep you updated,” he offered. Oliva wasn’t sure if the look on her face had warranted the gesture or if he was just being polite, so she just nodded. “Good luck, Detective.”

It was better this way - she had her own work to focus on, and if they solved the case, it would be one less for her to sweat over. Putting Detective Riley at the back of her mind, she had another go at finding Sam Holden. Her chip holding fingers stopped mid way from her open mouth when a knock on her door sounded. She almost expected Detective Riley to have come back, but to her disappointment, it was the chief.

“Amanda Brooks will be here on Monday morning first thing for that interview.”

Monday is better than never, she supposed. “Thank you, chief.”

He grunted and turned, but before he could go, Olivia wanted–needed - to apologize. “Chief?”

“Mmm?” Turning to face her once more.

“I want to apologize for my rude behavior. I normally have better control over my emotions,” she said sincerely. She was working up the courage to go to him since this morning, but bravery had been a slippery bugger.

Considering her for a moment, he sighed. “Forget about it, Detective. We’ve all been there.” He gave her a half smile and she let him go this time, feeling slightly more at ease after her apology, it also didn’t hurt that the case was moving along again–even at a snail’s pace, but at least it wasn’t digging into the ground like a stubborn mule anymore. She would need to prepare for her interview with Amanda on Monday, and that was what she was busy doing when Katherine pushed her head into Olivia’s office. She gave her a quick look and went back to work. “What can I do for you, Detective?” She wasn’t being rude, she will help if Katherine needed it, but she was busy at the moment.

“You can stop whatever it is you are doing, just shove it in a drawer for Monday.” At Olivia’s frowning face, she laughed, throwing her hands in the air and twirling around. “Karaoke!” she declared.

“Lord have mercy,” Olivia grumbled.

“C’mon,” Katherine beckoned her, but she was still hesitant. “You owe me, remember?” She smirked.

“That’s what you’re spending it on?” Olivia asked, frowning.

Nodding with abandon, Katherine smiled and Olivia gave in. “Fine!” Placing her files back into the evidence box, Olivia closed the lid and cradled the box on her hip like a baby as she gathered her belongings and waited for the laptop to shut down before it goes on top of the box.

“What are you doing? Leave that for Monday.”

“I can’t,” she protested. “I need it to work this weekend.”

“Olivia, what you need this weekend is a few drinks, a man, and some aspirin. In that order.”

“I don’t need a man!”

“Yes, you do. Now come on, the office ladies are already there.”

Placing the evidence box back on her desk, she recalled hearing their excitement coming down the stairs. They barely glanced her way as they passed her office. “Think I should give them some space.”

“What? Why?” She frowned. “Oh.” Realization hit. “You know what? If they want to be angry at you for doing your job, then that’s their problem. We’re getting our own table and having fun. Screw them!”

After thinking about it for a moment, she decided Katherine was right. She was just doing her job. Opening her drawer to get her keys, she halted.

“f**k,” she muttered as the Bolton case caught her attention. Olivia needed to get that to the Prosecutor before she lands herself in the same position as Suzie. “I need to stop at the Prosecutor’s office.” Showing her the file.

“Fine, we’ll quickly drop off your file. Now, get moving before I throw your scrawny a*s over my shoulder,” she threatened. Olivia didn’t know her well, but what she knew was that Katherine might just crazy enough to do it. Olivia thought about the “scrawny a*s” comment and decided that Katherine could bite it, it wasn’t like she resembled Jessica Rabbit either. Olivia locked her door just in case Daniels felt the urge to snoop around again. He has been quiet since the e-mail. She took pleasure in the fact that he felt bad enough to avoid her–might teach him some manners.

The tongue-lashing Olivia got from the Prosecutor about irresponsibility and forgetfulness, pushed to the back of her mind as they entered The Pub. Aptly named, Olivia thought. Apparently, this was the place for hanging out when you worked for the Department of Law Enforcement. Even Tweedledum and Tweedledee were playing darts in the corner. Packed, the deafening sound of laughter, mixed with shouting voices almost, just almost, drowned out the man on stage singing his heart out. Olivia has never heard Sweet Caroline butchered in quite such a manner. She ought to arrest the man, she thought, and tried her best to ignore the glowering coming from the table just beside them. Katherine had greeted them with a smile and a wave as they made it towards the bar. Spotting two open stools, she jumped at the opportunity. There was no way in hell they were getting a table. Looking over at Olivia, grinning, she asked, “What are you having?”

Not bourbon, that’s for sure. “Corona,” she said to the waiting barkeep.

“Make that two,” Katherine said. “And keep ‘em coming Johnny Boy!” Some guy waiting to be served overheard her and started chanting “Johnny Boy! Johnny Boy! Bring us the beer, Johnny Boy!” The poor lad seemed frustrated by the drunken attention.

“His name’s Johnny Boy?” Olivia asked, amused.

Snorting she said, “I have never seen him before in my life.” The beers were plopped onto the bar and Katherine handed him some bills “Keep the change Johnny Boy!” She turned her stool towards the stage where a tipsy brunette started singing about how she loved rock ‘n roll. Taking a sip of the Corona, she eyed Olivia sideways with a cheeky smile. Olivia just shook her head at Katherine’s antics–that poor boy is probably going to be called Johnny Boy for the rest of his bar tending career at The Pub. Turning towards the girl on stage Olivia cringed as her voice pitched so high she was afraid they’d have some stray dogs wandering about later on.