“No.”
“Did you see anyone get out?”
“No, he – or she – just sat there.”
“How long were they there?”
“Quite a while, at least quarter of an hour.”
“And then what happened?”
“I don’t know. I fell asleep.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“About two in the morning. There was a noise.”
“What sort of noise?”
“A terrible moan. It didn’t sound human. I thought it was a fox.”
“Did you see anything else?”
“Yes. I saw someone leaving Isabel’s house.”
“And was it your neighbour, Isabel Anderson?”
“No, it was not.”
“Did you see where this person went?”
“Yes. They got into a car and drove off. Not the Honda, but another car parked further up the street. A white one. I didn’t see what make.”
“Did you notice anything else?”
“Yes. They drove off at quite a speed, as if they were in a hurry to get somewhere.”
“Or away from somewhere?”
“Yes.”
The prosecution lawyer steps up. “You said you couldn’t see this person clearly?”
“No, it was dark.”
“Then what makes you so sure it wasn’t Miss Anderson?”
Mr Krinkle frowns. “Isabel is tall, with an average build. This person was small and slight – almost like a child. And she had a different walk. It was… I don’t know – daintier.”
It was Jody, I know it was. If only the police had been able to find her DNA at my house.
I still struggle to get my head around what must have happened. Holly had never been to my house before, so when she thought she was following Jody home from the reunion, she must have actually been following her to my house. Jody must have had a key to the front door. She walked right in, as if she owned the place. She led Holly into a trap. I don’t know exactly what happened next. Maybe Holly decided to get out of the car and have a snoop, or maybe Jody went and got her, but somehow, Holly ended up injured and unconscious in my garage.
And so the proceedings draw to a close. As Judge Bagshott sums up the case, I struggle to take in what he’s saying. Despite sitting through the entire trial, day in, day out, I feel like I’m hearing it all for the first time.
“I think we’ve done enough,” Brian says, as the jury goes to deliberate.
But I’ve come to know him well enough to know when he’s putting on a brave face. Outwardly, his confidence has increased as the days have gone by, but there have been telltale signs to the contrary – the sweat he keeps mopping from his brow, the heavy bags that have appeared under his eyes. These are not the signs of a confident man.
Waiting is the worst kind of torture. The jury does not reach a verdict that afternoon, or the next. I take a deep breath and let the air gush through my lungs. When will it all be over? Will it ever be over?
Then, finally, just when I think I can’t bear it another minute, the court reconvenes.
“Has the jury reached its verdict?”
“It has.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“On the count of the abduction and attempted murder of Holly Handsworth, we find the defendant, Isabel Anderson, not guilty.”
I jerk my head up. Have I heard right?
“On multiple counts of arson, we find the defendant not guilty.”
Somebody gasps. I think it might be me.
Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty.
“I’m… free to leave?”
I can’t believe it.
Judge Bagshott is still talking but I don’t hear a single word. It’s over. It’s all over. I just want to get out. I try to step out of the dock, but the ground below me tilts 90 degrees. I half-walk, half-stumble towards the door.
“Isabel?”
Strong arms reach out to steady me.
“I’m free. I’m finally free!” I bury myself in Deacon’s chest.
He looks as shocked as I feel.
“You really didn’t think this was going to happen, did you?” I whisper.
“No. I was all set to appeal.”
But for once, God is smiling on me.
For no reason at all, I laugh. People turn to stare, probably wonder if I’m crazy after all, but I can’t help it. This is the first time I’ve laughed in months. The first time I’ve had something to laugh about.
“What’s so funny?” Deacon asks, as I catch my breath.
“I think it’s just the immense relief,” I gasp.
“You OK now?”
I nod. “Get me out of here!”
The need to get out is suddenly overwhelming. I am terrified that if I don’t get out immediately, the decision will somehow be reversed and I’ll be thrown back into prison. Deacon understands my urgency. Taking me by the arm, he leads me through the open doorway.
Not a second too soon. A line of fire soars through the air and a loud bang echoes around the chamber. Order descends into chaos as people scream and panic to get out.
“Keep going,” Deacon hisses.
“What’s happening?”
“Someone’s let off a load of fireworks.”
I look back, alarmed to see a rocket erupt from under the very seat where I was just sitting. It explodes in a hissing shower of sparks that would be very pretty in the cool, night sky, but here, in this enclosed space, is downright dangerous.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let the police handle it.”
He pulls me towards the exit and we both shake the sparks from our hair and clothes.
“You alright?”
“I think so.”
I can’t help but take one more look back into the chamber. Amidst all the chaos, someone is being handcuffed, I can’t make out who. Alicia wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it herself, would she? No, she’d have a lackey. She always has a lackey.
Cameras flash in my face as Deacon guides me past the waiting press. I shield my face, not wanting to look at them, let alone talk to them. Moments later, Brian appears and jubilantly announces that he’ll be making a short statement on my behalf. I smile slightly as the crowd diverts its gaze to him. Let him enjoy his moment in the spotlight. He deserves it.
Deacon’s car is parked round the corner. I heave a huge sigh as I climb in and shut the door behind me.
“Congratulations!” Rhett and Kate yell, as they clamber into the backseat. I know I should be pleased to see them, but I haven’t got the energy to respond. I smile weakly.
Deacon starts the car. “You OK?”
I nod, but I’m not really. Now that the initial burst of elation has died down, I feel deflated. My life as I knew it is over. It can never be the same – not after so many months in prison. I have lost so much time – an entire spring and summer that I will never get back. More than that, I’ve lost a part of me.
Deacon wakes me as we approach the lights of Queensbeach.
“Where to? You want to go home?”
“Can we go back to yours?” I ask, sleepily.
“I’ll cook something special to celebrate,” Rhett offers from the back. “What do you fancy? Toad-in-the-hole? Lancashire hotpot?”
“Anything,” I smile sleepily. “Just as long as you make it.”
Another person in my situation might have indulged in elaborate fantasies of what they’d do when they got out. Where they would go, what they would do, who they would spend that first special evening with. But not me. When I was in jail, I couldn’t allow my mind to wander that far – to believe I could actually be set free. And there is still Alicia to think about. Where is she now? And what is she planning next?
As we drive past Robertson’s, I can’t help noticing that the place has been completely repainted. And in place of the giant ‘R’ on the roof, there is now a happy squirrel.