Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
M ac
“You know who the defence lawyer is, don’t you?” I look at Wren, and the set of her jaw tells me she knows, but I have to voice it. “Declan fucking Donaghue.” I spit the words venomously. I see Wren’s mouth twitch but she doesn’t respond, she just keeps watching where her dogs are playing amongst the first fallen autumn leaves in the meadow ahead of us. She invited me on this early morning walk, so I assume she has something to tell me.
Declan Donaghue is the worst—no, the best lawyer there is, and as far as I know he’s never lost a case. He’s expensive, but then I’m sure Winstanton can afford to pay him. I’ve seen him manage to get seemingly watertight cases thrown out, and he has a knack for throwing doubt into the minds of the jury even if the evidence is clear. He’s clever, too clever, and I try to ignore the dread I’ve been carrying around like an extra weight since I heard the news. I take a few deep breaths and walk in step with Wren as we stroll through the meadow. It’s still early, and the sun hasn’t cleared the trees yet, its golden rays creating dappled light that highlights the dew still clinging to the grass making it look like silver droplets.
“He might have Donaghue, but we have Alisha.” Wren smiles confidently. I admit, Alisha Robinson is an amazing lawyer. She’s smart and very good at getting her point across clearly to the jury. I’ve also seen her reduce a defendant to tears before now, but I don’t think she’s ever been up against Donaghue, so I’m not as confident as Wren.
“Yes, but . . .”
“Your job is to get her the best evidence you can,” she says sharply.
“Yes ma’am,” I reply and she gives a little laugh. “Victory is so close I can almost taste it, but with Donaghue in defence I know it won’t be easy. I’ll just work harder.”
Wren looks at me curiously. “When did you last have a day off, Mac?”
“What?” The question catches me off guard. I don’t have days off.
“When did you do something that wasn’t working on or thinking about this case?” she asks.
“I dunno,” I mumble. “I went to the gym last week.” I wasn’t thinking about the case then—well, not directly. No, that was a whole other problem, and work is pretty much the only thing stopping me from thinking about Levi.
“Do you know why I have dogs?” Wren asks, and I watch as her labradors, one golden, one chocolate, gambol up to us, tongues lolling in their grinning faces.
I shuffle my brain for an answer and come up short. “You, erm, like dogs?”
No question is ever that simple if Wren’s asked it, so I know that’s not what she wants and I try again. “They’re great companions?”
She sends them off running again, chasing a ball, and resumes walking. I follow.
“Those things are true of course, along with always being pleased to see me and keeping my feet warm at night.” She smiles lightly and I wait for her to continue as I know she’s not done yet.
“They get me out into the countryside. I often walk to the top of that hill.” She points to a ridge about half a mile away. “From there I can look out on the county and beyond and remember how vast this world is. Then I look back, and I watch them play and explore. They’re not worried about their place in the universe, they’re just happy being in the moment. It puts things into perspective. What do you do, Mac?”
I frown at the question because she knows exactly what I do. “I’m a detective.”
She stops and looks at me and I know she’s expecting more. “And?”
“And what?” I’m confused.
“I’m a judge, yes, but I’m also a wife and a mother. I have dogs, I like to read and to cook, and when I get a chance I like to travel. Your turn.”
I open and close my mouth a couple of times.
“I go to the gym, and I have friends.” Well, one good friend, but I don’t have time for more and as a cop I have to choose my friends carefully, and hanging out with other cops is never fun. “And I read.” I tag that onto the end because my list sounds lame even to my ears. Wren raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“What was the last book you read?”
I struggle for an answer, because in truth, I can’t remember.
“What I’m trying to say is, get some perspective. Don’t let your job define you. It’s going to be hard over the next few months and Donaghue is going to be tough, but don’t make it the only thing in your life. A burnt out detective is no use to me.”
I’m sure her words are kindly meant, and she is usually wise, but this time I know she’s wrong. Now is the time to work harder. I need to double down. I’ve worked on this for years and I’m not going to let Donaghue allow Winstanton to get away with any of it. I need to make sure all our evidence is irrefutable, she’s already asked for that.
The need to get back to the case fills my mind as I walk through the city heading towards work. I don’t recognise my own name being called, it only filters through to my conscious when it’s shouted behind me, and I spin round.
I take a step back as the last person I expect to see on the street in front of me is Ami, my mum’s best friend.
“Hi Mac, you look well.”
“Hi Ami,” I say with a shrug. I look the same as I always do, like I need another few hours’ sleep.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks, and I look up, realising that we’re just outside her shop, the Yarn Barn.
“Sure,” I agree, and when she turns back to her shop I follow her, entering and closing the door behind me. The shop has a unique smell, and is covered in floor-to-ceiling wooden shelving holding balls of wool in every colour and material you can imagine, and many you probably can’t. Its cacophony of colour evokes a memory of being around ten years old and I was sick with glandular fever. My mum made me soup, as I couldn’t eat anything except soup and ice cream, then tucked me in under one of her colourful blankets and sat beside my bed for days, knitting some creation and keeping me company while I slept. I clear myself of the memory and wait for her to speak, because there’s only one subject she wants to talk about.
“When did you last talk to your mum?” Ami asks. Her voice has a little bite to it and a sudden thought that my mum is unwell causes worry to rear its head.
“Is she alright?”
Ami’s face creases slightly in disappointment at my answer and she gives a small sigh.
“Yes, she’s fine.”
I’ve known Ami most of my life. As well as owning a wool shop in the city, she runs a knitting group my mum has been a member of for as long as I can remember. Sometimes the group would meet at our house, and I guess they still do but I wouldn’t know about that.
“She misses you,” she says, and relief that nothing has happened to my mum flows through me, because although I might not talk to her I do care about her welfare.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that, and resist the temptation to scream, “She should’ve thought about that before she lied to me for eighteen years.” I got over missing her a long time ago.
“It’s too late for all that,” I protest. And it is.
“It’s never too late.” Ami gives me a small smile. This conversation isn’t going anywhere and I have a lot to do.
“Look, if all you’re going to do is try to guilt trip me into visiting my mum, it isn’t going to work,” I say, turning to the door and grasping the handle.
“Have you ever heard her side of the story?” Ami calls after me and I stop. I haven’t, but then, she’d refused to tell me. That day I confronted her, when I found out that everything I knew was a lie, she refused to tell me any more. It was her refusal to say anything that made me leave.
“She didn’t want to tell me,” I grind out.
“Maybe she regrets that,” Ami offers, and I look back at her.
“Maybe she’s not the only one,” I spit out. When I left, I spent months searching for the truth, but I had no leads and gave up. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make up for the fact I’m some bastard who has no idea who his father really is.
“She’d like to make amends with you, Mac.”
“She knows where she can find me,” I growl and wrench the door open, leaving before she can say anything else. Everyone blames me for what happened, but none of them know the real truth. I continue walking back to the station, wondering if Ami’s words are true. Would I listen to my mum if she wanted to finally tell me? I don’t know; it seems too much to think about when I have the most important case of my career to deal with. I don’t need any other distractions. I will the thoughts away, and as soon as I reach my office I ask Shari for the list of leads we need to follow up on. She’s been great at finding contact information for them and she presents me with a comprehensive file. I look down at the list of other young offenders who had the same probation officer as Levi, and recognise a few names. From what Levi said, he can’t be an isolated incident, and we need a lot more evidence if we’re going to have a hope of bringing these charges against Winstanton. Some of the names are listed as residing at His Majesty’s pleasure, and I feel sad that the system didn’t manage to stop them reoffending.
“Have you ever visited the prison?” I ask Shari and she shakes her head.
“Fancy a trip out?” I ask and she grins.
“I thought you’d never ask.”