‘I know about Leoni. Probably more than you, because you’ve been in here.’
Rodney sat back, his hands on the table. ‘I called her after your boss came to see me.’
Jayne flinched. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I had to know if he was telling the truth.’
Jayne hadn’t considered the thought that he might tell Leoni. ‘How close are you?’
‘I haven’t spoken to my daughter in twenty years. I let her grow up without me. That was my sacrifice, to give her that chance. She writes to me all the time though. She tells me what she’s doing, how she misses me, her brother too. She sends me her phone number and asks me to call her, but I never have before.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’d want to be with her, of course. She’s my flesh, my blood. Whatever sort of person she is, I made her like that. She had the chance to make something of her life, to put whatever happened behind her. Tell me, have you seen her?’
Jayne was cautious now, wondering if Rodney wanted her there for a different reason. Was it just so that he could tell Leoni all they knew?
But she couldn’t clam up. Dan wanted him for the trial. She had to trust her instincts.
‘No, I haven’t,’ Jayne said. ‘Without you, there’s nothing in this defence. But now you’ve told her, she might disappear. Or even worse. She’s a killer. We’re all in danger now.’
‘I mentioned David Green, that’s all.’
‘The trial starts today. She’s no fool.’ She leaned forward. ‘We need you, Rodney. Do the right thing.’
Rodney put his head back and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, he looked back and said, ‘This is such a big step.’
‘It has to be you that does it. You know the truth. Even Leoni’s mother thinks you’re guilty.’
‘What, you met Sarah?’
‘I was following Mark Roberts’s investigation, so it took me on the same path Mark had taken.’
‘How’s Sarah?’
‘A mess, if I’m honest. Too much vodka, too many fags. She looked old and didn’t look well.’
Rodney shook his head. ‘She brought all that on herself. And on us. She was partly to blame for this mess.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘She left us. Not just me. Us. I’m not saying we were perfect, but we were a family, except she treated the children like they were a burden. All she was interested in was being the party girl. When she married me, she was settling for routine, thinking that it would somehow stop her from ruining her life, cure her excesses, but you can’t hold in that kind of thing in the end. If it’s in you to ruin yourself, you’ll do it, and whatever Sarah tried to suppress was always bursting to get out.’
‘But why does that make it partly her fault?’
‘Because children need love. They need stability. Everyone knows that.’
‘Lots of single parents cope. Why couldn’t you?’
‘I was working hard, trying to keep everything together. Looking back, work didn’t matter. I should have been there for the children, and perhaps…’ A deep breath. ‘Perhaps things would have been different.’
Jayne wanted to reach out and hold his hand, because Rodney looked like a man who had spent twenty years wondering if he’d tried harder, he could have made it turn out better, but she remembered enough of the prison rules to know that the guard would end the meeting if he saw it.
Instead, she said, ‘Why do you think it would have made Leoni different?’
‘Love does that.’ Rodney sat forward. ‘Did she do these other things? I’ve got to trust you.’
‘We think so, but we can never truly know.’
‘Have you spoken to Chief Inspector Porter?’
‘Of course. Wherever Mark went, I followed.’
Rodney folded his arms. ‘He knows everything.’
Jayne was surprised at that. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I bet he filled you with bluster, told you to leave well alone, the beast is behind bars.’ He shook his head. ‘Be careful with him. If he’s making it out like it’s a big surprise, don’t believe him.’
‘Tell me then.’
‘Here’s my deal. Take it or leave it. Porter has got to tell the story too. It doesn’t have to be in court, but he’s got to talk and make it public. I’ll tell you my part in this, but I won’t help your client out if Porter refuses. I’m not facing this alone.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Porter knows it all. It’s time for him to pay.’
Chapter Sixty-One
Dan stared at his notepad as the first witness gave his evidence.
It was the man who’d alerted the police to the discovery of the body, an early-morning jogger catching the first strands of daylight. He’d slipped in the blood, congealed and sticky on the path. He didn’t know what it was at first, until he investigated the area behind the bench and flashes of liquid colour caught the early sun.
There was no real need for him to give live evidence, the statement could have been read out, but it was all about impact. Make the jurors hate the killer. The photos would follow, and evidence from the person who last had contact with Mark, all raising the emotions of the twelve men and women tasked with coming to a verdict. Dan heard the court fall silent, the witness’s words echoing around a still courtroom.
It was more than just the drama of the discovery though; the witness talked about how he was compelled to act and call the police, his voice cracking with the memory, because what else could a person do? The jury would hear a more callous tale from Nick Connor, how he discovered the same thing but stole a wallet instead.
Dan forced himself to look up. He was projecting a sense of defeat, that he was just a legal aid lawyer expected to defend a hopeless cause. So, he feigned calmness, almost disinterest. He hoped to repair some of the damage in the closing speech. Hate Nick Connor for what he did, that he was nothing but a worthless thief, a man who’d amounted to little and offered little, a burden on Highford. And Dan knew they’d be nodding along with him, believing him, all the time leading them to one conclusion: that if they thought that, they believed something else too: he wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t on trial for stealing a wallet but for brutally murdering Mark Roberts.
Dan almost laughed at the absurdity of it, that for the jury to find Nick not guilty, they had to decide he was a feckless waster who didn’t even have the drive to kill a man. To secure his acquittal, Dan was relying on Nick to come across as pathetic, that he would be exactly the sort of person who would panic and run when he found a body, but not before he took the man’s wallet.
The weakness, of course, was that if the wallet was still there for Nick to find, it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong but a planned attack, and there was a vital piece of the picture still missing.
There were other strands, crucial strands, and he needed them all to come together. He looked at the entrance, looking out for Jayne, even though he knew it was too early.
All he could do was wait.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Jayne was full of nervous energy when she arrived in Langton, ready to meet Dan at court after her long drive. Rodney had told her the story and, if it was true, it was going to raise all kinds of hell. But it excited her, and for the first time since she’d come back to Highford she knew she wasn’t going back to Manchester. She missed this. The drama, the tension.
She checked her watch. Nearly four o’clock. She’d missed most of the day, but that didn’t matter. She had to let Dan know all she knew. She hadn’t been involved in as many cases as Dan, but she knew the tingle of important news.
She bounded up the court steps and through security, before heading to the courtroom. She tried to open the door as quietly as she could, so that no one was disturbed in there.
Those in the public gallery were focused on the proceedings. Barbara was further along, her hands clasped together, the tension showing in the whiteness of her fingers.
Jayne
stayed away from her and sat in the seat closest to the exit.
There was a witness giving evidence, a police officer describing how they got a call from someone who bought stolen debit cards, who’d panicked when he saw a news report about the murder. The cards were still at his house, blood on the edges, and he identified Nick Connor as the person selling them.
It was Dan that caught her attention though. He seemed different, not his usual self.
Watching Dan in a courtroom was all about energy and tension, almost as if his whole body was about to spring into life. This was different. He was slumped, sitting back, his leg crossed.
She could change that.
The prosecutor finished his examination and the judge asked Dan if he had any questions. Dan stood and said, ‘None,’ faking confidence, before taking his seat. The judge glanced towards the clock and announced that it would be a good time to break for the day.
As everyone rose, once the jury had filed out, Jayne moved towards the well of the court.
The court assistant raised her hand, about to object as Jayne moved through the small wooden gate that allowed her access to the lawyers’ benches, but Dan turned and saw her.
‘You look like you’ve got something to tell me,’ he said, as he gathered his papers.
‘We can’t talk here. Get your stuff.’ She pointed to his face. ‘And your make-up is holding up well.’
‘I’m wondering how you get through the day with this stuff on.’ He followed her out of the courtroom, pausing only to put his gown and collar into his bag.
Once outside, Dan put his bag on a nearby bench, the bustle of the city centre close by, and asked, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s not just about Rodney and Leoni. It’s Porter. He’s known all along.’
‘About what?’
‘About Leoni being the real killer.’
Dan’s eyes widened. ‘How?’
‘He ensured it stayed quiet. I got it all from Rodney, and he’ll come forward now. Can you believe it? Rodney Walker is prepared to tell the whole story, and it’s a hell of a story. I couldn’t believe it when it all came spewing out. But it’s conditional. He’ll do it, but only if Porter will do the same. He said he’s not taking the flak alone for letting Leoni stay free.’
‘But what’s his story?’
‘The solicitor, Ken Goodman, told Porter. Rodney had a meltdown a couple of months after his trial, couldn’t stand the thought of a life inside for something he hadn’t done, so he blurted out the real story to Ken, who told Porter, saw it as a way of mounting an appeal, but Porter wouldn’t do anything. Said it was his case and he had the killer.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. The police aren’t going to help a convicted murderer just because he’s come up with a new story. Particularly one that blames his young daughter.’
‘But what about Chris Overfield, the second victim’s brother? He was convinced it wasn’t Rodney, but Porter talked him out of getting involved; Porter reassured him that they had the right person, but Chris had never been convinced. Damn it, Dan, Porter knew and did nothing, which makes him partly to blame for all that followed.’
‘Are you saying Porter’s a suspect? That he might have killed Mark Roberts just because a defence lawyer once told him his client was innocent? I say that to the police all the time, but it doesn’t mean I believe it.’
‘Who’s got most to lose though? We thought Leoni, but is she really going to be locked up on the say-so of her father, who has stayed quiet for more than twenty years? But Porter? He’s all about his reputation, the small-town cop known by everyone. Could he stand the truth coming out? The cop who let a killer stay free and who killed again?’
Dan sat down and put his head back.
Jayne sat next to him. ‘Am I making it hard for you?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I’m more into this case than you. You had it all sorted out before Barbara came here, but now? Your office has gone. We’ve both taken a kicking. You had a case that was prepared and now it’s all gone in a different direction, and I’m still trying to take it that way, but I can see how it’s killing you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I was watching you in court. You’re not the same. More muted.’
Dan sat forward and stared at his feet for a few seconds. ‘I can’t pretend things are normal.’ He gripped her hand. ‘But you make it easier, because I like having you around.’
‘Aren’t we more than that now, me just being around?’
‘We are, but this case is dragging us both down.’
‘But you’ve got to think of Nick. He needs you to do your job. And me mine.’
‘We need to get Porter to speak.’
Jayne smiled. ‘I’ve already done it. I called him and told him Rodney was going to give evidence and tell the whole story, and he should get himself to Highford, because he’s in the witness box after Rodney, whether he liked it or not.’
Dan laughed, despite himself. ‘Oh, you fight dirty. What did he say?’
‘Nothing. He hung up. But I can bet he’ll have an uncomfortable evening. Let him stew, and then we’ll have him.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘I don’t know, because Rodney won’t talk without Porter; but if it’s all we have, we’ll keep pushing, because it’s the only way we’ll find out the whole truth.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
The start of a new day brought fresh optimism. The evening before had been marked by self‑doubt, Jayne cajoling, trying to bring Dan out of his slump. He’d avoided wine, he needed a clearer head for any decisions he had to make, and instead they lay in bed and talked. And made love, of course.
That thought made him smile. They clicked in that way. Perhaps because they’d been friends for a few years, so they didn’t have any awkwardness, that it was just an extension of what they’d had before. They trusted each other.
Or perhaps they had been waiting so long for it to happen that they could sink into the blessed relief of it all.
Jayne had told him that everything about sex with him was full of meaning and emotion, so much more than anything that had gone before.
He didn’t know whether she was just making him feel better, but he latched on to the idea that it wasn’t frivolous. It felt like he always thought it would happen, even if he’d fought against it.
Jayne had been right about one thing though: that whatever his future held, Nick Connor’s case was a more immediate problem.
He was watching his curtains brighten, Jayne next to him, both naked.
She lifted her head, her hair tangled, her eyes bleary. ‘Do you still fancy me?’ she said, before laughing and collapsing back onto the pillow.
‘You’ve no need to comb your hair yet,’ he said. ‘I’ve had an idea.’
‘Sounds interesting, but what do you mean about my hair?’
‘I want you to make a written statement. Just a brief one, explaining your assault and exhibiting photographs of your bruises.’
‘But they’re fading now.’
‘If we get the light right, they’ll be visible, but it’ll come across better if you look dishevelled.’
‘You really are a charmer, Dan Grant.’
He laughed and put his arm round her to pull her closer. Her skin was warm and smooth as she hooked his leg over his. ‘It’s only for the photographs.’
‘What are you going to use the statement for? I won’t have to give evidence, will I?’
‘I’ll tell the prosecutor you’re willing to, but remember our case is that secrets were being uncovered by Mark Roberts, and it cost him his life. If we’ve suffered when we’ve followed the same path, it bolsters our case.’
‘I don’t want to give evidence though.’ She frowned. ‘It has bad memories for me.’
‘They’ll let me read your statement out, because how can they dispute it?’
‘Okay, if you’re sure, but I wish we didn’t have to go to
work today.’
‘Yeah, me too, but I’ve got to work out the full detail of Nick’s defence. The trial has started and it still seems murky. Our case is that Leoni is a killer. She was back then, and she carried on with David Green by taunting and pushing him into suicide. Mark Roberts paid the price by discovering too much. Someone is trying to keep a secret hidden. Leoni most likely, or even Porter, although I don’t think a jury will think it’s him.’
‘But they’ll go for Leoni?’
‘She murdered two children. She’s got a lot to hide. You remember how we said that she might have carried on after David Green killed himself, because that case was a long time ago? For serial killers, if that’s what she is, long gaps don’t happen. They keep going, form a pattern, until they get stopped. Did she discover what she truly enjoyed, and knew how to get away with it? We were going to look at who else she might have killed, but Rodney shut us down. Without him, all we had was a wild theory.’
‘But now he’s back on board?’
‘We keep on looking. And I know who to ask.’ He smiled. ‘Photos first though.’
* * *
Porter wasn’t sure if it was the gulls that had woken him or the decision he’d made the night before; either way, he wondered whether he’d be able to carry it through.
The call from the investigator had unsettled him, with the threat that Rodney was going to talk. He couldn’t allow Walker to control the narrative.
Sleep hadn’t come easy, if at all. He’d stared at the ceiling, faintly illuminated by the turn of the lighthouse a few miles away, the North Sea’s giant searchlight. Before he knew it, he was staring at the ceiling again, except the lighthouse had stopped turning and a gull was wheeling just above his house. The early strains of daylight showed through the curtains.
He’d showered and left, not wanting to wake Linda.
No, it was more than that. He didn’t want to face her. He’d do what he had to do and deal with the fallout later. He’d stared at her sleeping figure, her hair across the pillow, the duvet up to her ears. They’d shared so much, but this was something he had to do alone.
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