Chapter 68
Hannah Mickery had not had a good night.
She had visited prisons many times in a professional capacity and had never failed to be revolted by the experience.
So she’d gone to her night in the cells with real dread.
And, okay, nothing bad had happened to her.
But it had been a long, cold, depressing night with only a seventeen-year-old junkie for company—a junkie who’d pissed herself with fear in the middle of the night.
The urine had run into the corner of the cell and stayed there, stinking out the place for the rest of the night.
She just wanted to get home, have a shower and sleep.
She’d remained calm throughout it all, but now she felt washed-out and aggrieved.
So when her lawyer, Sandy, arrived to pick her up, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
She kissed him—something she’d never done before—and asked him to take her home. Sandy, however, had other ideas.
“There’s someone you should meet.”
“Well, whoever it is, they’ll have to wait. I’m going straight home to bed.”
“It’s a one-time-only offer, Hannah. I think you should take my advice on this one.”
Hannah slowed her march and turned to face Sandy.
“An hour of your time—that’s all I ask. I’ve brought clothes from your place. You can shower at mine if you’re quick. The meeting starts in just under an hour. Trust me, Hannah—it’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”
At Sandy’s house, the water cascaded over Hannah, reviving her instantly. The experience should have been soothing, but Hannah was too wired for that. She was full of questions, but her overriding emotion was one of girlish excitement. She had hit the jackpot. She and Sandy had pulled it off.
On the ride over, he’d outlined the proposition.
It was more generous than she could have hoped for.
They wanted a lot for it, of course, but she had prepared scrupulously and had all the material she needed.
After the newspaper deal, they’d wrap up a publishing deal, which would lead to TV appearances and who knew what else?
She would make her name, be rich and then .
. . who knows? Perhaps she’d move to the States.
There was enough devious criminality there to keep her busy for a lifetime.
She hadn’t expected it to be a woman. And especially not such a glamorous one.
Just prejudice, really—one expected every tabloid hack to be a bloke.
Still, she seemed incredibly clued up, impressing Hannah with both her detective work and her barefaced cheek in getting to this point.
It was all about getting ahead of the competition.
The deal was hammered out quickly and generously and the three of them shook on it there and then.
At which point she produced a bottle of champagne she’d brought with her—just in case.
Once again Hannah marveled at her front.
Still, it was good stuff. And had an instant effect. Hannah could take her drink, so it must have been the adrenaline rush of success making her feel light-headed. By the look of things, Sandy was feeling the same way too.