The devil you know, p.13
The Devil You Know, page 13
* * * *
Beck’s face slackened as Hilary joined her outside the courtroom the next day.
“Bloody hell, boss,” she murmured, looking him up and down. “What happened? You look like you slept in your car.”
“Did you bring it?” Hilary said, downing the rest of the double espresso that was doing little more than making him feel nauseated.
Beck held out the garment hanger bag with a heavy frown. “What happened to Netflix and chill?”
“I won’t be long,” he said, taking the bag and making for the men’s.
He shaved in the bathroom sink, earning a sympathetic look from the court clerk who came in to use the urinal before the session started. Hilary tried not to look at the dark circles under his pale eyes, the haggard tightness of his jaw as he scraped away the last of the stubble. He splashed his face with cold water, willing his brain to engage. But it seemed all he could think about was the hard ache, like concrete, in his gut.
He changed in a cubicle and pulled his hair back into a tight tail. A text message popped up on his screen.
Hey, babe. Sorry I never made it home last night. Turned into a bit of a booze-up. Hope court goes well. See ya later x
He put the phone away again.
He was tying his tie with four minutes to spare when Dominic Hart-Gosford pushed open the door.
Their eyes met in the mirror. For a second Hilary was certain he’d looked into his face and knew everything. He felt cold and hot at the same time and was unnerved to see Dominic’s expression shift. A darkness came into it that, somehow Hilary knew, wasn’t directed at him.
“Miss Donavan said you were in here.”
“I’m nearly done.”
Dominic’s eyes roamed over him as he finished tying his tie. “Late night?”
“Something like that.”
“Merriweather said you came to the house last night.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He said he saw your car.”
“He’s mistaken.”
Dominic looked at him appraisingly as he buttoned his jacket and retrieved his briefcase. “You can be human, you know, Hilary. It is allowed.”
Hilary tightened his grip. “We’re going to be late.”
“Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“I’m fine.”
Dominic regarded him a moment longer, appearing to consider something. But then he stepped aside and followed him out of the bathroom without speaking.
The court was already full by the time they entered. The announcer stepped in just as Hilary and Dominic reached their table and commanded everyone to stand. The jury filed in, followed by Judge Fotheringham. But instead of taking her seat at her bench, the judge remained by the door.
“I would like to see defense counsel in my chambers for a moment, please,” she stated.
Augustine did not look up from her iPad. Jabal rummaged in his briefcase and did not meet Hilary’s eyes, either. He exchanged a glance with Beck, who raised her eyebrows then stood with him.
“What is this?” Eloise Hart demanded with a frown. Dominic watched Hilary, his hands in his lap, his face unreadable.
“We won’t be long,” he said, then followed Beck to the judge’s chambers.
Judge Fotheringham’s face was grave as she sat at her desk.
“Mr. Whyte. Miss Donovan. This is to let you know that the prosecution has made an application to me to read out a statement from Mrs. Woods this morning instead of having her give any more live testimony.” She regarded them over her glasses. “I’m willing to grant the application but only on approval from you, as it means you won’t get to cross.”
Hilary sensed Beck stiffen but kept his attention on the judge.
“If you refuse consent, which is well within your right, the prosecution will have to either make Mrs. Woods appear”—the tone of the judge’s voice made it clear what she thought of that idea—“or strike her off their witness list.”
Hilary looked to Beck, who raised one eyebrow questioningly. Butterflies had started flapping through the hard fog in his belly as he tried to read her expression.
“We’re happy to allow the prosecution’s application,” Hilary said, keeping his hands pressed to his thighs to make sure they stayed still.
Fotheringham nodded in approval, and they filed back into the buzzing courtroom.
“Without that cross we can’t draw attention to Lizzie borrowing all that money from her folks and never paying it back,” Beck murmured as they returned to their table. “Or the fact that she has applied for credit cards in her mum’s name.”
“I know. But getting the victim’s mother taken off the witness list or forcing her to testify both just make us look heartless,” he said as he took the day’s papers out of his case. “With reason.”
“Well, I’m not sure Ms. Tarrant QC would approve,” Beck said with a soft smile. “But I do. And, more importantly, so does the judge.”
Judge Fotheringham was calling for quiet as Hilary took his seat and leaned in to murmur into Dominic’s ear to explain what had happened. He fought back the reactions in his body as the light, fresh smells of his skin and hair threaded themselves through his consciousness. For a split second, the pain in his chest eased and he could breathe again. But when the black eyes gazed into his, Hilary was again eerily certain that Dominic was reading his mind and turned away.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Fotheringham stated over the dying chatter. “Mrs. Karen Wood will no longer be appearing in person to deliver her testimony. I’m sure you can understand and make allowances for this. Instead, the prosecution will read out a statement. However, I would also like you to consider in your deliberations that, as the witness is no longer appearing in person, the defense will not get a chance to offer counter-questions. It is important you consider Mrs. Wood’s words…but it is also important that you consider them in light of this.”
The judge examined the jury over her glasses as Jabal stood with a tight expression next to Augustine, whose attention was still fixed on her iPad. After a moment of tense silence, Fotheringham nodded.
“Go ahead, Mr. Jabal.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Jabal said and turned on the television.
“Oh fuck,” Beck muttered as a picture of a smiling, happy boy and girl, grinning gap-toothed over a birthday cake with seven candles, appeared on the screen.
“Just relax,” Hilary murmured. “Don’t react.”
Dominic stared as the picture changed to one of Lizzie in a mortarboard and gown, flanked by her parents and brother, all holding flutes of champagne, squinting in bright summer sunshine.
“Now follows Mrs. Wood’s statement for the jury.” Jabal cleared his throat. “I am sorry for not being there again today,” he began, face grave as more pictures of Lizzie and Dean faded in and out on screen. “It hurts me deeply that I cannot speak at the trial of the man that killed my children. It was the only thing left I could do for them, but it is simply beyond me.” Jabal looked up. All the jury’s eyes were on him, as were the eyes of everyone else in the room. “There are literally no words for a mother who has lost a child,” Jabal continued. “Let alone for one who has lost two. Lizzie and Dean were my and their father’s world. They were our reason for being alive, even the hard times. And there were some, no parent can pretend it’s all easy. It’s true Lizzie struggled with money…”
Hilary watched the jury intently but none of them seemed to even blink.
“And being honest about it, perhaps I didn’t set the best of examples for her. Our house has two mortgages. Our car was repossessed last year, too. But Lizzie was simply a bright girl who loved life and seized everything it had to offer, even when it was beyond her reach. We did not begrudge her her mistakes. That’s how we learn. And we know, given the chance, she would have worked it all out. But, honestly”—Jabal paused and Hilary was certain the gathering of himself was only partially for show—“even if she never could, she still deserved the chance to try.”
Hilary snuck a glance to his left. Dominic sat very still. The dark of his eyes was stormy, the full mouth set in hard lines. There was anger there, anyone could see that, and Hilary prayed the jury wouldn’t glance over—not least because he also knew that they weren’t close enough to see something else burning in the back of his eyes. A dark flame of pain had lit there that, despite everything, somehow managed to warm the cold cavity in Hilary’s chest.
“That chance has been taken from her,” Jabal continued, turning the page of the statement, “just like it’s been taken from her brother. Dean was her rock, her confidant and her friend in everything. He was loyal and kind and he loved his sister. They were both good people. They both died terrified and in agony.”
Jabal paused. Hilary was sure his face had softened. “I now have to live the rest of my life knowing their last moments on this earth were filled with suffering. No one should have to live with something like this. No one. And whoever has inflicted this pain on those I love the most needs to be punished. Not for my sake. Not even for Lizzie and Dean’s sake. But for the sake of all parents, all loved ones. Because whoever did this has no love in their life, no notion of happiness or care for the pain of others. And, for that reason, they need to be denied the chance of ever inflicting that heartlessness on anyone else again.”
The TV screen faded to the last and most famous set of pictures of Lizzie and Dean, the ones on all the news sites, selfies taken with some friends at a bar a week before they died. Their eyes were bright, and their matching smiles were wide. Jabal let the image stay on the screen for a long moment then turned the TV off. Utter silence filled the room.
“I think we will take a break,” Judge Fotheringham said. “Fifteen minutes, everyone. Then the prosecution can call their final witness.”
Chapter Eight
“What a load of sentimental nonsense,” Eloise muttered as they filed into an anteroom. “No facts presented. Not a single scrap of evidence. It was manipulation, plain and simple. I’m astonished the judge allowed it. Even more astonished you did, Mr. Whyte.”
“Allowing the statement was the best option available,” Hilary stated. Amelia had drawn Dominic into a corner and was engaging him in hushed conversation. His face was grim, his shoulders slumped. Something tightened in Hilary at the sight, and he stepped to the door. “Try to relax. Court reconvenes in ten.”
“Sara Holden,” Beck murmured as they left the antechamber and made for the courthouse café.
Hilary nodded. His personal phone was buzzing. He felt sick and tired. He withdrew his phone and saw a missed call notification from Jasper. Something sharp went through his chest. Beck glanced at it then her expression changed.
“I’ll get the coffees, boss,” she murmured. “You call him back.”
He tried for a grateful smile, stepped out of earshot, took a breath and called Jasper.
“Hil, glad I caught you. Doorman said you went out and never came home last night?”
“I’m in court, Jazz.”
“Hil,” he said firmly, “where did you go?”
“Where did you?”
Jasper made an impatient noise. “I told you. I was at some event with a YouTube personality at The Lansbury. It went on late, and they gave me a room.”
Hilary swallowed, unable to think of anything to say.
“Where did you go, Hilary? What’s happening with you?”
Hilary looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t hang up on me, Hil. This is serious. You’ve been weird and distant for weeks. You should at least be honest with me.”
“We should both be honest with each other, shouldn’t we?” Hilary heard the words leave his mouth like someone in a dream. The echoing silence on the end of the line made the pounding in his head louder than thunder.
“Can we please talk about this, whatever this is?” Jasper said, quietly.
Hilary stared at the wall.
“Hilary”—Jasper’s voice had risen—“we have to sort this. We have to. Tell me we’ll talk tonight.”
“Yes, fine,” Hilary snapped, something ugly uncoiling in his chest. “We’ll talk.”
“Thank you,” Jasper said, voice tight, and guilt prickled up Hilary’s spine. “Good luck in court.”
Beck handed over his coffee in silence and they returned to the courtroom. Hilary took a moment outside to breathe deep until he was sure his face was blank then pushed open the doors.
Dominic’s eyes locked on him as he approached and didn’t look away when he sat and began leafing through his papers.
“Prosecution calls Miss Sara Holden.”
“Last chance for you to tell me anything I should know,” Hilary murmured as the young woman approached the witness stand.
Dominic didn’t reply.
Sara wore a simple black dress and no makeup. Her expression was grave, her brown eyes heavy with sorrow and anger, and Hilary’s heart sank as she watched the jury drink in her intense earnestness.
“Miss Holden, thank you for joining us today. We know this must be hard,” Jabal began.
“I’m here for Lizzie and Dean,” she said. Her voice was firm. Her coffee-colored eyes landed on Dominic and burned. “It was the least I could do.”
“That’s very good of you,” Jabal continued. “Could you start off by stating for the jury what your relationship to the victims was?”
“I’d been friends with the Wood twins for years. I went to uni with Lizzie. Dean used to visit a lot. They were close. We were close.”
“Being close to Lizzie, perhaps she confided things to you? Things she didn’t to anyone else?”
“Objection,” Hilary stood. “Calling on the witness to speculate.”
“I believe, as Lizzie’s best friend, Sara’s speculation is relevant, my lady,” Jabal replied smoothly.
“I agree with Mr. Jabal, Mr. Whyte. Objection overruled. Answer the question, please, Miss Holden.”
“She told me everything,” Sara said. “Things she didn’t tell no one else, not even Dean.”
“Things about her love life? Work? Money?”
“Yeah. All those things.”
“So I’d like to ask if you had cause to be concerned for your friend in the weeks running up to her murder?”
“I did,” Sara said, holding Jabal’s gaze steadily.
“In what way?”
“I knew she was in deep. Cash problems, you know?”
“What do you know, exactly?” Jabal said, clasping his hands behind his back. “And how do you know it?”
“She told me she was panicking about her rent,” Sara said. “She was behind already. And the dealership was gonna take her car off her. And, on top of it all, she’d just lost her job.”
“She told you these things?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“That night,” she said, nodding at the blank TV screen. “That night when we were all out at the pub together. Dean had gone to the loo. She didn’t want him to know how bad it had got. And she didn’t want him to hear about her plan to get out of it all.”
Jabal raised his eyebrows. “And what plan was that?”
“She said she had something worked out,” Sarah said, voice hardening. “That she had figured out how to get all the cash she needed and to teach someone a lesson while she was at it.”
“‘Teach someone a lesson’? Those were her words?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you get an idea about what exactly she was planning? Or who she was talking about?”
“She said she knew something bad about someone she had worked for, something they’d pay to keep quiet.”
“Objection,” Hilary said, skin going cold. “Vague.”
“Sustained.”
“Yes, sorry, Miss Holden. This is important information—so important we need it to be as accurate as possible. So Lizzie stated to you that she’d planned to blackmail someone? Someone she used to work for?”
Sarah shifted in her seat, glancing at Dominic and away again. His expression was carved from granite.
“Please. You can speak freely,” Jabal urged.
Sara sighed. “Lizzie was great. You have to understand that. She was fun and honest and she really wanted to do right by everyone. But money… Money was a big deal to her. She liked nice things. We all like nice things. But she didn’t want to work for no bank or poncey marketing company. So she…yeah, she spent more than she earned. A lot more. But we’re all human, right?”
“Of course,” Jabal said, spreading his hands.
“She needed a way out.” Sara took a deep breath, lowering her eyes. “She said this man she knew stuff about wasn’t a good man, but that he was rich enough to buy himself out of any trouble he got into. She was going to hit him where it hurt…his money.”
Hilary’s throat closed over. He resisted looking at Dominic or Beck with an effort so great that his shoulders ached.
“And she didn’t tell you who this person was?”
Sara shook her head sadly. “No. She never named him. Said it wasn’t safe for me to know. But she definitely said it was someone who she used to work for. Not with. For.” Her eyes slid to Amelia and her expression chilled. “She said it was her chance to get back at all of them. So it wasn’t hard to guess that it involved that family somehow.”
“Objection,” Hilary said. “My lady, this has gone beyond speculation and hearsay.”
“I have to agree with Mr. Whyte now, Mr. Jabal,” Fotheringham said heavily. “Please, can you restrict your questions to obtaining facts from the witness.”
“Of course, my lady,” Jabal said with a smile that unnerved Hilary. “Miss Holden, I will then ask you this. What was it exactly that made you think that the Hart-Gosfords were the targets of Lizzie’s blackmail?”
Sara’s eyes sharpened. “Whoever it was, he was rich, and he was linked to Homes with Hart. She said so.”
“How do you know it was a male?”
“Because Lizzie was sleeping with him.”
