The public gallery was quiet as everyone waited for the trial to resume. This was the part people wanted to hear the most. The story from the accused. Would he change their minds? Would he wilt under the prosecution examination?
Nick Connor was sitting back, his arms folded.
Dan was in front of him, his mouth against one of the small gaps in the glass screen. ‘Remember all that we talked about, how you’re going to leave it to me?’
Nick leaned forward. ‘Because I’ll mess it up. That’s what you mean.’
‘I’m creating doubt. That’s your best option. If you go into the witness box, you’ll be ripped to shreds and all the doubt will disappear.’
Everyone stood as the judge made her entrance. As she took her seat, once everyone had bowed, she said, ‘Do you need some time with your client, Mr Grant?’
‘I do apologise, My Lady. I’m just confirming my instructions,’ he said, and then back to Nick, ‘There have been some developments.’
‘Is it to do with the questions you were asking yesterday? About those seaside murders?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was lost on me, man, but just do what you’ve got to do.’
The judge’s impatience grew. ‘Mr Grant?’
He stepped away from the dock and returned to his place. ‘I’m ready, My Lady.’
The judge nodded to the court usher, who left to fetch the jurors. Once they were all seated, staring expectantly towards Nick Connor, she asked, ‘Mr Grant, do you intend to call any evidence?’
Dan stood. He knew he was going to disappoint everyone, at least in the short term, as he announced, ‘My client does not wish to give evidence, but I call Rodney Walker.’
The murmurs of surprise and the shuffles of people moving in their seats filled the courtroom.
The news about Rodney Walker must have filtered out. From the prison, that was Dan’s guess, because a reviled prisoner attending court to talk about his crimes was big news. The number of reporters had certainly increased. At the start of the trial there had been two. One from the local paper, and another one who’d feed the story to the online outlets before the local reporter had the chance to get her copy approved. There were six now, with a journalist Dan recognised from the television, along with others he’d never seen before. Dan assumed they were from the nationals, because stories involving those who murder children sell well.
Barbara was in her usual place, but there was someone new sitting next to her. A man, around thirty years old, well-built and good-looking. Although they weren’t talking to each other, they were in adjoining seats with other spaces free, which told Dan they were together.
Jayne was sitting a few seats away, but her arms were folded, a scowl on her face.
As he turned away, he caught a glimpse of someone entering the public gallery. Unassuming, her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, hood down, she sat at one end, with a direct view towards the witness box. Her blonde hair was tied into a knot on the top of her head, so that it swished and bounced around as she took her seat.
He winced as a memory came back to him. Two figures raining blows, in silhouette, nothing said. But one had longer hair, so that it bounced in the glow of the distant street lights.
She caught his glare and, as she narrowed her eyes, Dan detected the faintest cold smile.
He turned to face the front. Leoni had been one of his attackers. Who else could it be?
And another memory came back to him. A flash of blonde hair disappearing into Carl Ogden’s kitchen when he’d burst in, drunk. Leoni. That’s why Oggy had threatened him, because Leoni had told him to.
But how had she known? Had she seen Barbara in Highford and worked out who she was?
A jangle of keys diverted his attention. Dan had been told that Rodney Walker would be brought through a side door rather than through the dock, due to the proximity of Nick Connor. A door opened, and everyone in the courtroom turned to look.
Rodney was in his prison gear of jeans and grey sweatshirt, chained to a security guard, his wrists cuffed together. They weaved their way to the witness box, every pair of eyes following them, until Rodney stood in the dock.
The security guard unlocked one of the cuffs, but Rodney remained chained to him from the other cuff; the guard stood to one side.
The judge must have caught Dan’s uncertainty, because she looked down and shook her head. ‘Serving prisoner, Mr Grant.’
Dan understood. Rodney would remain locked to the guard until he was back in the secure van.
Rodney’s voice trembled as he took the oath, before he straightened his back, a small nod to Dan indicating that he was ready.
Then he saw her. Leoni.
He looked down and took a few deep breaths. For a moment, Dan thought he was going to back out, say that he couldn’t do it, but when he looked up, he was filled with resolve. He angled his body towards the judge so that he couldn’t see Leoni.
Dan smiled to put him at ease before asking, ‘Mr Walker, you are in prison for double murder. Is that correct?’
‘That’s right,’ he said, but it was barely audible, so he coughed and said louder, ‘Yes, I am.’
The court was silent, and Dan could feel the tension, wondering what he could possibly say that could be relevant to Nick’s defence.
‘It might be that some members of the jury are familiar with your case, but who was murdered?’
‘Two small children, more than twenty years ago. William Clegg and Ruby Overfield.’
‘The press refer to them as The Brampton Murders, is that correct?’
‘It’s a snappy headline.’
‘Did you kill those children?’
He looked back to the public gallery and stayed silent.
This was the moment when Rodney needed to speak – Nick’s case was hanging on his next words – but he wasn’t talking. Instead, he was staring towards the public gallery, grinding his jaw, breathing hard.
Dan didn’t push him, he didn’t want to force out an answer that wasn’t the truth, but the knot in his stomach grew as he waited, and it was almost as if everyone in the courtroom was leaning forward, straining for the answer.
The judge was about to intervene when Rodney turned back to Dan and said, ‘No, I did not.’
Dan tried to hide his relief, and he worried about the judge losing patience with him, the questions seemingly nothing to do with the current case apart from the mention of Brampton. He moved the questioning on. ‘The deceased in this case was Mark Roberts. Did you ever meet him?’
‘Yes, he came to my prison. He was writing a story about me. Or a book or something.’
‘When was this?’
‘Just after Christmas. He wanted my co-operation, but the first time it was all low-key. It sounded like one of those churned-out true crime things, where he wanted to talk about the crimes and get my side of it. I spoke to him just to break up the monotony, but I had nothing to tell him. But the second time, he was different. More excited.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘He told me he believed I was innocent and reckoned he could prove it. He wanted to lead a campaign. I told him no, and he became insistent, pleaded with me, saw it as a way of raising his profile. I refused, but he said he’d prove it anyway, as if he knew why I was saying no.’
Dan faked a look of surprise, because he knew the story, but he had to play along with the reactions of everyone else in the courtroom. ‘Why did you say no?’
‘Because I didn’t want the truth to come out.’
‘Which is?’
Rodney looked towards the back of the courtroom again, towards Leoni. ‘That I didn’t kill those children. And Mark Roberts had worked that out.’
Dan paused to let those words sink in, and then asked, ‘If it wasn’t you, Mr Walker, who do you think killed them?’
‘I don’t think. I know. It was my daughter, Leoni. Sweet little ten-year-old Leoni.’
There was an audible gasp from a few people, and then a bang as someone left the courtroom, like the hard smack of a hand on the wooden door.
Dan looked round. Leoni had gone.
Jayne followed Leoni out of the courtroom, trying not to disturb the proceedings and keep her distance, but Leoni must have suspected something, because once she was out of the building she began to run.
Jayne bolted for the exit, ignoring the shouts of the security staff, and banged hard on the glass door to get onto the street. She looked up and down, trying to see Leoni through the city centre crowd, but she wasn’t there. She’d got too much of a head start.
‘Shit!’ She stamped on the ground in frustration, her hands on her hips, turning, still a vague hope she would see her head bobbing as she ran. It was futile. Leoni was gone.
She was about to turn back to the court entrance when she saw a man was leaving.
It was Chris. She’d seen him in the gallery but had been too angry to speak to him.
His smile was cautious as he approached. ‘Hi.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘My sister is one of her victims, remember.’
‘You don’t seem surprised by events this morning.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I knew it wasn’t Rodney. It had to be someone else.’
‘But Leoni?’
‘It makes sense.’
‘Is that the only reason you’re here, for your sister?’
‘Sorry, I’m not understanding you.’
‘You lied, Chris. You told me you hadn’t heard of Highford, but you were there a month ago.’ He started to protest, but she raised her hand to stop him. ‘Just button it. I saw your bank statement. Why were you in Highford?’
His shoulders sagged. ‘I wanted to know how much of it was true.’
‘You knew about Leoni?’
‘Not as such. Mark told me he’d worked out who did it but didn’t tell me who.’ He shrugged. ‘None of it matters now.’
‘Of course it matters. What about last week? It mattered enough for you to sleep with me so you could get information from me.’
‘They won’t lock up Leoni on Rodney’s say-so. Ruby will stay dead. There’s no change. And us? That wasn’t just about the case. We happened because it felt right.’
She stepped closer and wagged her finger in his face. ‘No, because I know what right feels like now. I was feeling sorry for myself and you were there. Self-pity is never a good reason for anything other than drowning your sorrows.’
‘All right, I’m sorry for having a great night with you, but I’m not hanging around for this.’
‘For what?’
‘Abuse from you. Or listening to how that bastard buried my sister. I’ve got my answers, so I’m leaving.’
Jayne softened. He was right. Knowing about his sister was one thing. Hearing how it happened must have felt like he was reliving it. ‘Okay, I’m sorry, but just be straight with people. I felt let down and lied to.’
His smile flickered. ‘Thanks for the advice. Goodbye, Jayne. If it helps, I enjoyed our night. I wish it could have been under different circumstances.’
‘Yeah, well, me too.’
She watched him go, his attention on a device in his hands. A phone, perhaps? As he became lost in the crowd, heading in the same direction Leoni had, she turned back to the courthouse.
She wanted to know how the rest of the story turned out.