Page 18 of Vengeance is Mine

‘You must be going through hell right now,’ she said.

I tried to speak, but my tears were choking me. I sat back down, took a deep breath and composed myself. ‘Do you hate me for coming here?’

‘Of course I don’t. Dawn, I don’t want you to worry about us. Don’t get bogged down in who your father is and what he did. He is an evil man, but you’re not him. Be yourself. Promise me you’ll not let it consume you,’ she said, looking at me straight in the eye.

My tears had stopped. ‘I promise.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, I’m going to make us another pot of tea, as this one has gone stone cold. When I come back, you can tell me all the fun things you did at university.’ She stood up, picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen.

I took a tissue from my pocket and wiped my eyes. No trace of mascara, thank goodness.

‘Can I ask you a question, in your capacity as a detective?’ I asked quietly, so Barbara couldn’t hear us from the kitchen.

‘Of course.’

‘I’ve been reading up about Dominic, what he did, and he’s always said he was innocent. Is there any way that could possibly be true?’

‘No,’ he replied firmly. ‘No. He’s guilty.’

I nodded. ‘You didn’t work the case though, did you? I’m guessing DI Braithwaite is retired now, but do you think I could talk to him? Do you know where he is?’

‘Ian is a very good friend of mine, but you won’t be able to speak to him. He had a severe stroke a few years ago. He’s living in a nursing home on the other side of Newcastle. He never got over Stephanie’s death. He was her godfather, and he had to deal with finding and identifying her body. It ruined him.’

I slowly shook my head. It wasn’t only Stephanie my father killed on that day. Barbara and Harry were victims and so was Ian Braithwaite. How many more would I find who had suffered at the hands of Dominic Griffiths?

Chapter Seven

I slept well that night. Reading between the lines of the news stories, it seemed the theory was that Dominic had seen Stephanie and something in his brain had snapped, telling him to kill her. Was that due to the drug he had been taking or was it something that had always lurked in his subconscious that had suddenly risen to the surface?

The next morning, I was scheduled to join one of the senior paralegals at Newcastle Crown Court and observe the more exciting aspects of the job, but when I arrived, I was told the defendant had absconded and an arrest warrant had been issued. The court case was adjourned, and I was back to doing the filing. Typical. I’d worn new shoes for the occasion, too.

At lunchtime, I took myself to Café W in Waterstones next to Fenwick’s. I planned on reading a few chapters of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but I couldn’t focus on it. My mind was elsewhere. No prizes for guessing where.

I couldn’t get Dominic out of my head. My thoughts kept returning to the picture Mum had painted of him before he had turned killer. What had changed in his life that had caused such a drastic change in temperament? Was it really the drug? I was finding that difficult to believe without more evidence.

I put the neglected book back in my bag and took out my phone. There was another text from Mum which I ignored. Opening Google instead, I typed in Dominic’s name and looked up more headlines. I was torturing myself – I knew I was, but until I had all the answers, it was what I had to do.

JUROR COLLAPSES AS DETECTIVE TAKES THE STAND

The murder trial of Dominic Griffiths was halted yesterday when a juror collapsed while a detective recalled how he found the body of his thirteen-year-old goddaughter, Stephanie White, in Griffiths’ attic.

DI Ian Braithwaite of Northumbria Police, 43, fought back tears as he told the court of his discovery: ‘I knew what the smell in the house was straightaway. I’ve smelt a rotting corpse several times in my career. When I opened the first bin bag and saw the discoloured limbs, the dried blood, I knew… I knew I’d found her.’

He continued. ‘When I opened the third bag, I was looking down at her face. I hardly recognised her as the perfect little girl I’d seen grow up. Her eyes were closed. Her face was bloated and swollen, but I knew it was her. I knew it.’

Trying to control his emotions, DI Braithwaite broke down and took a minute to compose himself before continuing. ‘There wasn’t much space in the attic. We didn’t want to contaminate any forensic evidence, so I had to work with the pathologist to pick out the body parts. She was my goddaughter. I’d helped her learn to ride a bike, I’d played football with her, and suddenly, I’m picking her hands and legs out of bin bags.’

Several jurors were seen wiping away tears, and an elderly lady collapsed to the floor. The case was adjourned while she received hospital treatment and will continue tomorrow.

‘Oh my God,’ I said. I placed the phone on the table and pushed my cooling tuna melt panini to one side.

How long must it have taken Dominic to dismember Stephanie? What was going through his mind as he cut her arms from her body then removed her legs? How could a person physically and mentally bring themselves to cut off someone’s head? It defied all reason. But, there had to be one. There was an answer to every question, and no matter what Mum or Barbara said, I needed to know.

FATHER ‘SENTENCES’ SON

There were dramatic scenes in court today as the father of Dominic Griffiths screamed at his son from the witness stand.

Working for the defence, Alastair Wimpole QC was questioning Anthony Griffiths, 50, on his son’s upbringing, during which the father was having difficulty controlling his emotions. As the questioning continued, Anthony broke down and burst into a vitriolic rant.

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