Find Them Dead

54 Tuesday 14 May

Meg walked home from Hove station through drizzle, beneath a sky as dark and heavy as her heart. A seriously shit day in court. Her hopes had risen after the defence counsel’s attempted grilling of Haydn Kelly and the Forensic Gait Analysis evidence, but it went nowhere. Throughout the rest of the day Stephen Cork read through a stream of witness statements made by Gready’s work colleagues from November 2018.

With each one in turn denying, all equally convincingly, that they had ever met Michael Starr, the evidence against Gready was growing increasingly strong. During the lunchtime recess, and again during a brief adjournment in the afternoon, the opinionated woman juror, Gwen, had insisted that Gready must be guilty. An alarming number of her fellow jurors concurred, despite Meg’s strenuous argument that it was still far too early in the trial to form any opinion, and that there were many more witnesses to come. The arrogant woman was a real problem, she thought. A ghastly snob but, incredibly, she had the ear of most of the jury.

It was already becoming clear to Meg — without the help of Mrs Smythson — that Gready’s defence was foundering on the rocks.

What to do?

God, how she wished Nick was around. They could have discussed this together and he would have helped her to come to the right decision. He’d always been such a positive person and so full of wise words. One of her favourite sayings of his was, ‘Stay away from negative people — they have a problem for every solution.’

That was how it felt on the jury. All but Hugo Pink, who, resolutely maintained, as she did, that it was far too soon to come to any judgement, and that they were doing the whole notion of justice a great disservice by jumping to early conclusions.

As she opened the front door, the cat looked at her.

‘What is it, what do you want to tell me? You need food? Water? Biscuits?’

Then, as she entered the kitchen, she felt a tightening in her throat and stopped, staring. At something on the table that hadn’t been there this morning when she’d left.

Another photograph. What now? She went, warily, over to the table and stared down at the print. Laura and Cassie on a park bench, in shorts and T-shirts, with iguanas all around them. The two girls had big grins on their faces but were seemingly oblivious to the camera.

Someone had been in here again.

Were they still here?

She held her breath. Listened. Looked around. Then finally called out, ‘Hello?’

Silence.

She checked every room in the house.

The burner phone rang. She jumped. Everything made her jump right now. Her anxiety was so high she felt completely wired.

ID withheld. Of course.

‘Hello?’ she answered.

The same smug, creepy voice as before. ‘Not good today, was it, Meg?’

She looked around, shaking. ‘Not great.’

Where are you?

‘Meg, you need to know there is another juror on your side. And there is one very negative juror we are going to take care of. Keep the faith.’

‘What do you mean take care of?’

‘Tomorrow Laura and Cassie are doing a zip wire across a gorge. Crazy, if you ask me. Can you imagine the wire breaking? Laura halfway across? I don’t even want to think about it.’

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Please, please,’ she implored. ‘I’m doing everything I can.’

‘I’m sure you are, but it’s not enough, is it?’

‘What more can I do?’ she asked, then broke into a scream. ‘What FUCKING MORE?’

‘We’ll give you all the assistance we can, but you have to be stronger, Meg, more assertive.’

‘How?’

‘That’s for you to figure, Meg. You know what the score is. You know what you have to do.’

There was a long silence.

‘How?’ she shouted. ‘Please tell me how, you bastard!’

But the line was dead.