Page 9 of Claim

He’d been right.

Tricky.

The thought of him struck me right in the chest. Sharp and unwelcome. I hadn’t heard from him. Not that I’d expected to. Or even truly wanted to. He belonged on polished pavements and sun-drenched terraces. Should get to wear tuxedos, eat caviar and listen to the steady, civilised thwack, thwack, thwack of a tennis match. He deserved the light.

Not this.

Not me.

Someone who kept circling the dark and would end up swallowed by it for good.

Ellwood cleared his throat again, dragging me back to the room. “We’ve already contacted a firm better equipped to handle this level of exposure. They specialise in organised crime, politically sensitive prosecutions, that sort of thing.”

“And if they don’t want it?”

“They will. Cases like yours don’t get ignored. They get escalated.”

“To who?”

“Senior counsel. KCs. Teams with the resources to deal with the CPS when things turn… aggressive.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, we remain on the record. We attend hearings. Keep things ticking over. No decisions are made without representation.”

“And bail?”

“Unless there’s a material change, we can’t fight it. At present, the Crown’s position is too entrenched.”

Entrenched. Another word for someone powerful wants you here.

“So I sit?”

“For now. But not indefinitely.”

I studied him. The way his hands stayed folded. The way he didn’t quite meet my eye anymore, and I couldn’t help but say it. “You’re scared.”

Ellwood stiffened. “We’re being realistic.”

“No.” I tilted my head. “You’re scared of whoever’s standing behind the CPS on this.”

Silence followed. The thick, telling kind.

I waited. Gave them the space to contradict me.

Nothing.

I tried again. “So who ain’t scared of these names, then?”

Ellwood looked at Davies. Davies looked at the table.

That was my answer.

I shut my mouth.

There was nothing to be gained from pressing men who had already decided self-preservation beat professional pride. They were done with me. The meeting was over; we were simply going through the motions.

They gathered their papers. Snapped files closed. Stood. Ellwood even had the audacity to offer his hand. I took it out of habit rather than respect. His palm was clammy. His grip too careful. As if he were afraid I might mark him with my touch. And trust me, I wanted to.