Jayne was at the rear of the courthouse in Langton.
The day had started earlier than she’d hoped, after an evening of Dan being lost in his own thoughts, Jayne sprawled across his sofa, her head in his lap, channel-hopping until he decided he needed an early night.
That was the other side to Dan Grant, the preoccupation with his cases. Her head was a little fogged from the night before, but that was the drawback of Dan avoiding the bottle, because she’d never been one for letting a bottle go unfinished.
She’d got to Langton early, not wanting to risk missing the prison van arriving. Rodney had further to come, and there was always a worry that the governor would refuse the request, but Dan reckoned the police would see the risks in him not being produced.
Dan would be able to check whether Rodney was expected, but the earliest sign would be whether he got off the prison van. Dan had a murder trial to run and didn’t want to trust everything on messages from the cells.
A woman appeared further along and stopped nearby. Blonde hair, visible even in her hooded jacket, her hands thrust into the pockets. Jayne recognised her from the day before. Leoni.
Jayne turned away, surprised. How did she know? She hadn’t been at court the day before, as far as she knew, and Dan had said that Leoni hadn’t been mentioned during the evidence. Why was she there?
Before she could think anything more about it, the heavy diesel rumble of a vehicle echoed between the city-centre buildings. The prison van. Tall and white, with small darkened windows, just enough to allow the prisoners to see out. Was Rodney behind one of them, his first view of a changing world in more than twenty years? Would sight of the outside world give him second thoughts, wonder whether he could cope if released? It was one thing wanting to do the right thing, but would he sink back into preferring his regular routines?
The van shot down a concrete ramp at the side of the courthouse, stopping by a side door. Jayne was able to move to a spot where she got a decent view. There was some shouting as a security guard in a white shirt went inside, before emerging shortly afterwards with his arm pulled back, a chain taut as someone else in the van delayed an exit.
Rodney had his head bowed as he left the van, the security guard leading him, both of Rodney’s wrists shackled together.
He looked different to how he’d seemed when she’d travelled to meet him. More ill at ease. He’d had a prison strut as he made his way across the room. His survival instinct would have taught him that, because weakness stands out in prison, makes him prey. Away from his prison wing, he seemed smaller, squinting upwards into the sunshine, and looked like he no longer belonged in this world.
As he glanced upwards, Jayne raised her hand in acknowledgement, and he saw her and nodded, his expression serious.
Then it changed.
His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and for a moment it looked as if he might burst into tears. Instead, he turned away and was pulled into a side door, lost to the darkness of the cell complex in the depths of the courthouse.
Jayne looked to her left and stepped back in surprise. Leoni was next to her, staring at her.
Rodney must have seen her, and Leoni was making it clear that she knew who Jayne was.
Jayne didn’t know what to do. Her instinct told her to run. Leoni was a murderer, but her glare was intense, accusing.
Jayne swallowed her fear and said, ‘Game over.’
Leoni didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her stare for a few seconds longer, before turning to walk away.
Jayne let out a long breath and noticed that her hands were shaking. She knew what Leoni’s stare meant: that whatever happened in the courtroom, Nick’s case wasn’t the end of it.