Everyone looked round at Dan and Jayne as they emerged into the busy court corridor – Lizzie’s family, her friends, Bill. Dan didn’t pay them any attention. Instead, he stormed into the robing room, Jayne rushing to catch up.
Once they were inside, he kicked a chair. ‘Fuck!’
‘Dan, calm down.’
‘Calm down? You heard him. After all his silence, he was motivated by one thing: too cowardly to admit what he’d done.’
She held her hands out as he paced, his hands in his hair, his cheeks flushed. ‘Dan, you’ve got to hold it together. You’ll be back in court soon, and whatever you’ve just been told will be part of the case. You’ve got to deal with it.’
‘How? Go on, help me out here. You’ve suddenly turned into the genius.’ He kicked the chair again, this time sending it clattering into a bookcase.
‘I’m not your enemy here.’ Her voice was soft, soothing.
Dan leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, and took some deep breaths. ‘What do I do?’
Jayne took his hands in hers. ‘You do your job. It’s what you’re good at.’
The door opened. It was the usher. ‘Mr Grant, the judge wants to see you.’
‘Aye, I bet he does.’
As the door closed, Jayne said, ‘The reason you kept me sane was because of your strength. That’s what you meant to me. None of this is of your making. Peter has let you down by not being honest with you. So what if the judge bawls you out? Can he really say you were at fault?’
Dan nodded to himself, still breathing hard. ‘Thank you.’
‘And, of course, there is the other thing.’
‘Other thing?’
‘You can go after Sean Martin.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, there is that. Come on, let’s go into court.’
They emerged back on to the court corridor and the usher appeared ahead, holding her hands out in exasperation.
‘You wait out here,’ Dan said to Jayne, and headed for the courtroom.
‘Why can’t I come in?’
‘I’ve had an idea.’
As Dan got to the door, with everyone else crowding behind him, he said to the usher, ‘Can this be in chambers?’
The usher shouted, ‘Everyone will need to stay outside,’ and held the door open for Dan.
Francesca was waiting for him, her leg crossed, her arms folded. ‘More fun today, Mr Grant? I thought we were never going to start.’
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that because his plan was still forming loosely in his head. ‘Possibly. I need some time with the judge.’
The court assistant rose from her seat. ‘I heard you say that you want it to be in chambers.’
Dan nodded.
She went towards the door that would take her into the tranquil space behind the scenes.
Once she’d gone, Francesca said, ‘What’s going on now?’
‘I’ve pinned down his defence.’
Francesca looked surprised. ‘Halfway through his trial? That’ll go down well with the judge.’ Her gaze grew suspicious. ‘What is it?’
‘Loss of control.’
‘Is this a joke?’
‘A woman died. I don’t joke. And I thought you’d be pleased. If it succeeds, it’s manslaughter, which is still a prison sentence, and still a tick in your conviction column.’
Before Francesca could respond, the door opened and the assistant said, ‘The judge will see you now.’
Dan and Francesca followed her through the door, into the hush and calm of the judges’ corridor. A knock on the door, and they waited until they heard the command to enter.
The judge looked impatient, glowering at Dan as he gestured to them both to sit down.
‘Mr Grant, there’d better be a good reason why you have kept the court waiting this morning. I’ve been told that even though you knew that I was waiting, that the court was waiting, you refused to end the conversation with your client.’
‘It wasn’t a conversation, it was a consultation, and he was providing me with up-to-date instructions.’
The judge leaned forward over his desk. ‘There is never a good time to keep me waiting. Do you understand that?’
Every ounce of common sense was telling Dan to apologise and puff up the judge’s ego, but fatigue, stress and all of his worry about Pat came flooding back in.
He met the judge’s glare. ‘This was more important than court etiquette. My client’s liberty is at stake and that comes first.’
The judge’s nostrils flared. ‘Tread carefully, Mr Grant.’
‘I am, because for the first time my client has told me what happened on that night. For over four months he’s refused to talk to me about the case for reasons he would never say. I couldn’t risk leaving him because he might clam up again. If Your Lordship wants me to apologise, I will. I’ll say the words. If Your Lordship wants me to mean them, that’ll be a longer wait.’
The judge said nothing for a few seconds. The tension in the room grew. Francesca was sitting back, wanting whatever was going to happen to not involve her.
The judge broke the silence. ‘What’s his defence?’
‘Loss of control.’
‘Explain.’
‘I prefer to wait until Peter Box is giving evidence.’
‘This is not your courtroom, Mr Grant, but mine. I will tell you what will and will not happen.’
‘I have told Your Lordship the defence that is to be advanced. I have told the prosecution. Elizabeth Barnsley died at his hands, he admits that, but he was so overwhelmed by a combination of events, very grave events, that he could not control himself.’
‘You’re stating the law, nothing more, Mr Grant.’
‘Another person has been committing murders, and Peter Box reacted to that threat; he couldn’t cope with the thought of it.’
‘Are you going to name this person?’
‘I am, My Lord.’
He turned to the prosecutor. ‘Ms McIntyre, what do you have to say?’
She was silent for a few moments. Eventually, she said, ‘He can’t do this. Up until now, he’s been rubbishing the case, pointing to problems with the DNA. Now, he accepts he killed her, that it’s his DNA on her shoe. It’s a farce.’
‘No, it’s your closing speech,’ the judge said. ‘Are you objecting to this line of defence?’
‘It’s an attack on someone’s character, whoever this person is.’
‘Sean Martin,’ Dan said.
Francesca whirled round at that. ‘The Sean Martin?’
‘One and the same.’
A smile played on the judge’s lips. ‘Ms McIntyre, do you object? I’d be surprised if you did. If Mr Grant wants to conduct his trial like this, I’m surprised you’re concerned. The jury will see what you see, that the defendant is changing his defence mid-trial.’
‘And all the time the defendant has an appeal ready, because there is no way this will be seen as adequate representation.’
Dan tutted. ‘Save your barbs. You can call him as rebuttal evidence. I can hardly object.’
Francesca turned to him. ‘You’re reaching too high, Dan, can’t you see that? You’re out of your depth, plain and simple.’
The judge slammed his hand on the desk. ‘Both of you, enough. And as for you,’ he said pointing at Dan, ‘I’ll deal with your competency afterwards. I’ll give the prosecution an hour to consider their position, but the case will resume then. Now get out.’
‘The prosecution can close their case now,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll agree the rest of the evidence. Let my learned friend read it all out to the jury. It all falls now on the defendant.’
‘You’re not in control, Mr Grant. One hour.’
They both filed out of the judge’s chambers. Once in the courtroom again, Francesca threw her papers on the desk. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’
‘I’m playing the only hand I’ve got. Just call the case back on. I want this over with.’
He rushed out of the courtroom. Normally, this was where he felt he belonged, but it was all spinning too fast now. He needed air. He felt everyone’s stares on him as he swept through the security barrier, but he kept on going, stopping only when he got to the street. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The case was about to get even more testing, but at least he was going to get some truth out there. Lizzie and Rosie and all the others deserved that.