Page 95 of Witness 8

41

Eddie

‘How do you think it went?’ asked Alison.

We were on our way out of the building. Staff exit. I tried, when possible, never to leave a building the same way I came in. There was still a sniper and God knows how many other people who wanted me dead.

No reporters waiting for us. I knew most of the security personnel. I couldn’t always get out this way, but if a few friendly faces were working those back corridors, we could skip out onto the sidewalk unnoticed. I held the door open, letting Alison and John through first, then Kate, who met my gaze as she walked past.

I didn’t know how to answer Alison’s question. Soon as I took one step out of the courtroom, the first thing that banged into my brain was the image of my friend lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Even though I knew there were no new messages on my phone, I would check it anyway. In some ways I feared hearing from the nurses. A message from them could only mean one of two things – either Harry was awake or, more likely, something far worse.

My mind was still on my friend, and it was taking too long to get my head back into the game to give our client a fair assessment. Kate saw me struggling, and didn’t want to leave Alison hanging.

‘We were never going to win this case on the first day,’ said Kate. ‘All that we could have hoped for is to make the jury curious. We want them to be asking questions. Who else might have been involved in this murder and why didn’t the police investigate? I think some of the jurors are at least beginning to wonder. We have to build on that tomorrow.’

‘Thank you both, so much. I mean it . . .’ said John, his throat thick with fear.

‘This was the first battle. Stay strong,’ said Kate. ‘The war is just getting started.’

My phone buzzed. It felt like the thing was wired into my heart, the vibration like an electric shock. Instantly, I was panicking, scrambling to get my phone out of my jacket, already silently pleading that this wasn’t bad news from the hospital.

It was Lake, and my eyes closed for a second. The tension left my shoulders and I hit the answer button.

‘Are you with the Jacksons?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Step away for a second. I don’t want them to see your reaction.’

‘Give me a minute,’ I said, and moved underneath the scaffolding that currently enveloped this side of the building.

‘What’s wrong? Is it Harry?’

‘No, he’s still the same. I saw him this morning. It’s Brett Bale. We think he’s carrying a gun and he’s in his Land Rover parked outside the Jacksons’ address. He’s watching the house.’

‘What the hell is going on?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘Is the babysitter still in the house with Tomas?’

‘Yep.’

‘Has he made any attempt to get inside?’

‘Not yet. He’s just sitting there, but he’s watching the place. I think he must be waiting for John. I don’t want to have to killone of our suspects to save our client. Not when we don’t know if he’s really the one who killed Margaret Blakemore.’

I felt a stabbing pain at the back of my neck. The beginnings of a bad stress headache. I used to get them a lot. Five years ago, I would’ve gone to a bar. Two shots of something hard and then a beer. That took the edge off the pain. Nowadays I was on coffee and soda, which didn’t do the same trick. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my neck and breathed slow. Checked my pockets. No Advil.

‘How long has he been outside?’

‘Coming up on an hour now.’

I looked over at my client and his wife. They were standing with Kate. She was trying to keep them from crashing. John had to hang tough for a few more days, on the off chance we could pull off a miracle and get him an acquittal. Right now, that seemed very far away. It felt like I had to win a crap shoot in Vegas, but I wasn’t eveninNevada – I was in Brownsville trying to start a rusted Buick with four flat tires.

‘Okay, hang tight. Let me know if there’s any movement.’

I ended the call and politely pulled Kate away from our client.