Page 1 of The Twins
Chapter One
Rebecca
“I will do everything in my power to keep you out of jail, Emma. We have a very good case.”
“But what if…?” Emma wiped her nose and then sniffed. “What if…they…think that I am guilty of…murdering him? I mean… I did kill him. I did do it.”
I took her hand. Her fingers were disfigured from being broken and not set by a medic. A door slammed on them, apparently. Bastard.
“I’ve been watching the jury for nearly two weeks,” I said. “They are compassionate people, two were visibly upset during your testimony. And there are more women than men, which is good, they are likely to be on your side.”
“I just don’t think it will go my way and—?”
“No more thinking negatively. I have the closing statement prepared, and I’ll deliver mine after the prosecution so it will be my words in the jurors’ minds when they go into deliberation. This is good for us.”
“You think?” She withdrew her hand from mine and searched in her pocket for a clean tissue.
“Yes, I do think.” A fresh wave of determination went through me. “We’re going to get you home to your kids, Emma, it’s the only thing that can happen.”
She blinked, a tear escaping, and set her gaze on mine. “You think? You really think so?”
“I do.” I pulled in a breath and stopped myself from making a promise. After the Burgess case I’d made a pact with myself not to do that to clients; the promise wasn’t mine tomake. A jury’s decision could go either way. That was the whole point of the system.
“In that case.” She tilted her chin and set down her shoulders. “I’ll try and think positive thoughts, it might help in that awful courtroom. Anything to block out the atmosphere in there.”
I understood why she didn’t like the austere courtroom. It was ruled over by Judge Jenkins, firm but fair, and official procedure was his religion. Nothing was ever out of place, not a word spoken when it shouldn’t be, and no one dared be late for a session—that would result in a fine doled out by him, which was his right. But I liked the atmosphere. It was my comfort zone and where I did my best work. It was my stage to present all of those hours of research and preparation.
“Yes, positive thoughts.” I smiled and stood, gathering my notes. “Any minute now and we’ll be going in.”
Knock. Knock
“Ah, here we go.” I walked to the door.
It opened, and a female prison officer jerked her head at Emma. “This way.”
Emma stood. Her hands shook as she smoothed down her plain navy dress.
“Your appearance is fine, perfect,” I said when she started fiddling with her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “Just be yourself. That’s all that you need to do.”
She swallowed and then went ahead of me.
The prison guard stayed close. Emma had been in custody since the killing. Deemed an unpredictable, violent individual and threat to society by someone who had no understanding of domestic violence.
Her two children had spent the last four months in foster care, the very last thing they needed.
I headed into the courtroom. The jury weren’t in yet; they were always the last to arrive. The prosecuting barrister, Joseph Gooding, was shuffling through his notes. He was loud, bombastic, dramatic, and I didn’t like his style, it was as though he was a wannabe actor and was making the most of his moment with everyone’s attention on him. I also didn’t know how he’d been sleeping at night, trying to persuade a jury to send a woman who had been beaten to within an inch of her life, kept under house arrest, raped and drugged, to prison.
Not to say I hadn’t taken on cases I didn’t want to, or didn’t believe in, I had, but these days, now that I was a senior member of the prestigious Oxford based Carter and Harris law firm, I got a say in what I got out of bed for.
Soon Judge Jenkin’s courtroom was full. There were two journalists waiting to take notes on the summation of the case for the local paper. The jury were in, poker-faced and stiff-shouldered.
I glanced at the public gallery, and my heart did a strange little skip.
Why is he here?
Finn Sullivan.
Chiseled features, sleek dark hair, and perfect amount of stubble, the sight of him chased all thoughts of the case from my mind.
