I’d arranged to meet Adam near his office. It was in Vauxhall, he’d told me, and he’d given me directions to a café nearby that turned out to be small, with steamed-up windows and bright murals on the walls. I got there early and spent half an hour jumping every time the door opened. I recognised him straight away when he walked in: medium height, medium build, brownish hair, brown eyes, two years older than when I’d seen him last. The shock of relief hummed through me at the sight of him, along with a quick, private feeling of surprise that he was better looking than I’d remembered. His eyes went to me, then dropped to the tea I was nursing. He raised a hand in greeting. ‘Can I get you anything?’
I shook my head and he went to the counter to order. I watched him talking to the morose woman who had served me. I couldn’t hear what he said but she laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, flushed and suddenly pretty, which spoke volumes about the general standard of her clientele because while Adam Nash was acceptable, looks-wise, the jury was still out on his personality. I’d never got to know him well. He was reserved and extremely professional, and I hadn’t been in a very good frame of mind the last time we’d had anything to do with one another, given that my entire life had been collapsing around my ears.
What a good thing that wasn’t happening again.
‘I’ll bring it over,’ the woman said to him at last. She had made me wait at the counter for mine.
He came to sit opposite me, unsmiling now, serious to the bone.
‘Miss Lewis.’
‘Ingrid,’ I said quickly. I couldn’t bear this conversation if he was going to Miss-Lewis me throughout. ‘I’m pretty sure we should be on first-name terms by now.’
He considered that for a moment. He was assessing me in much the same way I’d scrutinised him when he was ordering his tea. Maybe I looked different too, two years on. I tucked some hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious.
‘How are you?’ he asked, as if he really wanted to know.
‘Tired. I – I didn’t sleep well last night.’ If by not well you mean not at all.
‘I haven’t had a chance to look into this other barrister’s death. What can you tell me about it?’
Straight down to business. What else had I expected? Comfort? I dug in my bag for a newspaper clipping I’d kept that had described Belinda’s death in fairly comprehensive and accurate detail. He read it with absolute concentration, giving it his full attention while I tried not to watch him. The woman behind the counter was staring at us, curious, and I caught her eye without meaning to. I smiled; she didn’t.
‘Has anything else happened since we spoke?’
I dragged myself back to pay attention to Adam. ‘No.’
‘No one following you?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Have you been checking?’
‘Now and then. When I remember.’
‘You are taking this seriously, I hope.’
‘I’m taking it as seriously as I ever do.’
He looked at me as if I was completely insane. ‘You know John Webster is dangerous.’
It was as if Webster had pulled up a chair and sat down at our table. He would be enjoying this conversation so much if he knew it was happening.
‘I know exactly what he’s capable of. But when he started harassing me after the trial where I represented him, I realised there was nothing I could do to stop him. He’s not scared of the police and he doesn’t listen to reason. I decided I wasn’t going to give him any kind of power over me. He thrives on fear and I didn’t want him to enjoy mine.’
‘When we spoke last night you sounded terrified.’
I felt the blood warm my face. ‘That’s why I’m here. I wouldn’t have called you—’ I broke off as the woman appeared at our table with a cup of tea that she placed in front of him reverently. His came with a biscuit on the saucer. Mine had not.
‘Thanks, Marta.’ He smiled at her, then turned back to me, his face reverting to solemn as if he’d flicked a switch. ‘You were saying.’
‘I was saying I wouldn’t have contacted you if I hadn’t been worried.’
‘About Webster.’
‘It just feels like a step up from what he did before.’ I stirred my tea. ‘He set out to destroy my life but he didn’t seem to want to end it.’
‘Why now? What triggered this, if it is him?’
‘Webster’s just come out of prison. You know he got convicted of fraud. He tried to persuade the wrong old lady to fund his lifestyle and her family got to hear about it. Unfortunately he’d only taken a couple of grand off her so the sentence was light.’
He nodded. ‘He wasn’t in prison for long but any time behind bars is better than nothing.’
‘Not if he spent that time dwelling on all the things he hadn’t had a chance to do when he was free. Not if he was making plans that he’s now putting into action. And the restraining order I had expired in September. There’s nothing to stop him from following me again.’
Instead of answering me, Adam Nash pulled a face.
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ I looked away and blinked, hard. I didn’t want to sob in front of him. ‘You think I’m making it all up.’
‘What happened to your friend, and the scaffolding – it’s not necessarily connected with Webster, is it?’
‘She wasn’t really my friend. We worked together once. I knew her to say hello to, and I remembered her husband’s name – but we weren’t close. I gave her my umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet, and I can’t shake the thought that it was what killed her.’ This time, I held his gaze. ‘The last time John Webster was causing trouble for me, someone else died, horribly. It’s a pretty huge coincidence if the two things aren’t connected, isn’t it?’
Adam cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. ‘Look, this is a difficult question to ask – but are you sure he’s the only person who might want to harm you?’
‘This might surprise you, but I don’t have that many completely insane stalkers.’
‘Really?’ The look on my face must have answered his question because he held up his hands defensively. ‘I’m only asking because your job involves hanging out with the kind of criminals most ordinary people try to avoid.’
‘But they don’t want to hurt me. I’m on their side, remember. I’m there to help them. They want me to do my job and then they forget about me, whether I win or lose. I’m just part of the process.’ I shook my head. ‘Webster is the only one who’s ever bothered me afterwards.’
His gaze fell to my hands, checking for rings. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’
‘Not at the moment. No one serious since Mark.’ Instantly I wished I hadn’t said his name. Don’t think about him. Not now. Quickly, to distract Adam, I said, ‘How about you? Seeing anyone?’
He looked tired rather than amused. ‘The reason I ask is because if you had a new partner that might have prompted him to act.’
‘Does he need a reason?’
‘I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s seemed to be on his best behaviour since the incidents involving you.’
‘You know about everything that happened.’ I was turning my teaspoon over and over.
‘I’ve read the file.’ His eyes were steady.
‘It turned my life upside down and inside out. I’ve moved house three times. I should have been married by now—’ I broke off, horrified to find my voice cracking with emotion again. I got myself under control and finished off with, ‘And Webster was never, ever punished for that part of it.’
‘There wasn’t enough evidence to charge him with anything in 2017.’
‘Yes, I remember.’ I swallowed the knot in my throat and managed to smile. ‘Don’t waste your time looking for something I’ve done that might have provoked him. You know as well as I do, this is how he works. He goes quiet, and just when you think you’re safe, he reminds you he’s still out there.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I’d like you to talk to Alison Buswell. She’s a City of London officer on the team that’s investigating Belinda’s death. I want you to tell her about John Webster because I think she might take it seriously if it comes from another police officer. I just sound crazy when I try to tell people about him.’
‘Anything else?’ He was writing her name down.
‘I want to see the CCTV of Belinda’s death.’
He blew out a lungful of air. ‘Why?’
‘In case I see something Alison Buswell missed. I’m more likely to recognise John Webster than she is.’
‘I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, I’m fairly sure.’
‘You probably would, but I still want to see it myself.’
‘Why?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s not every day you get to watch yourself die.’
I was trying to sound tough and objective, like a professional in the criminal justice system who had seen a thing or two instead of coming across as a panicky victim, but it made Adam blink. ‘You’ve changed.’
‘In what way?’
‘You weren’t cynical before.’
I felt his words hit home. ‘Maybe I just hid it better.’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘The last two years would be enough to make anyone cynical.’
‘I didn’t think you were like that.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not – not really. I’m trying not to overreact here. I don’t think it’s funny, if that helps. Belinda is dead, and it’s because of me.’
‘You think he killed her because he assumed it was you under the umbrella.’
‘I think it’s possible. I think he’s capable of it, don’t you?’
‘Without a doubt. But if he did kill her, it’s not your fault. It’s his.’
I gave him a crooked smile. ‘That’s not what you said when I got him acquitted.’
He was nice enough to look embarrassed, but I didn’t see why. After all, he’d been absolutely right.