‘I have the same loyalty as you do to Claire,’ she retaliated and Jack gave a derisive snort.
‘He doesn’t get my vote because of the very obvious way in which he tried to manipulate us,’ said Libby. ‘He played the poor, hard done by dad at his wife’s expense. He’s a disgusting human being.’
‘Have his infidelities hit a raw nerve with you, Miss Dixon?’ asked Jack. ‘You and Matthew have much in common; perhaps you should swap numbers when this process is complete as I doubt you’ll be sailing off into the distance with Mr Harrison.’
Libby held herself back from hurling her bottle of water at Jack’s head.
‘Sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures,’ he continued. ‘We cannot condemn Sam for his will to survive. Who knows what any of us might do in his circumstances? And, in my view, he didn’t say anything that was factually inaccurate. Men do get a much rougher deal than women when it comes to relationships with their offspring.’
‘Oh, Jack, don’t give me that rubbish,’ said Fiona.
‘You seem to be conveniently putting to one side the fact that his wife is just as an accomplished liar as he is. And as a police officer, she is expected to be honest beyond reproach. If she can’t keep her own house inorder and has blackmailed Sam, I wonder how many other times she has bent the law to serve herself?’
‘We don’t know how much she knew,’ said Matthew.
‘That’s as maybe, but I am still awarding Sam my vote,’ said Jack defiantly. ‘Is anyone else with me? Matthew? Fiona?’
‘No,’ Fiona replied, followed by dismissals from Libby and Matthew. ‘Then the tally so far stands at Claire with one vote and Sam with one vote.’ Fiona added Sam’s name on her tablet. ‘There are four votes left and two Passengers. Who’s next?’
Chapter 47
SAM COLE
It was her. It was Heidi all along. Your wife – the woman you love – has been making your life a living hell.
Sam’s mind raced in all directions, like someone had ignited a pile of fireworks inside his head. During the many sleepless nights he’d endured over the last few weeks, he had dissected each person in his life to figure out if one of them could be his blackmailer. However, he hadn’t been able to settle upon a name or a reason. The last person he expected to be the culprit was one of his two wives.
He stopped listening to the jury debate whether to save his life and failed to register that he had received a vote of support. Instead, he was consumed by pinpointing the moment Heidi might have discovered his double life. How had he slipped up? What had she learned? Had it all begun with a name?
‘Who on earth is Josie?’ he recalled Heidi asking one evening. On the other end of the phone, Sam’s stomach dropped forty flights.
‘No idea, why?’
‘Because you just called me Josie.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did. You said, “I’ll be home around eight-ish, Josie.”’
‘It’s the bad reception. I said around eight-ishhoney.’
‘Honey? When did that become a thing?’
It hadn’t, at least not with Heidi. It was a name he used with his other wife. ‘I’m trialling it,’ he bluffed. ‘You call me babe, so I’m giving honey its day in court.’
‘Overruled. And why are you whispering?’
‘I’m still on-site as there’s a problem with removing an old staircase; I have us all working overtime.’
‘Okay, well, don’t be there too late tomorrow night. It’d be nice if you could come home and stay awake for more than ten minutes …honey.’ Heidi chuckled as she hung up.
Sam replaced his phone inside the pocket of his jeans, slipped a padded oven glove over his hand and punched the kitchen wall three times. ‘Shit!’ he mouthed. How could he have made such a careless mistake?
‘Why are you angry at the wall, Daddy?’ came a voice from the doorway. He turned to see his son, James.
‘I’m not, mate,’ he replied with a contrived smile.
‘Then why were you hitting it?’
