Clara.
She was seated directly behind where the defendant would sit. My stride faltered. For a moment, I thought I was mistaken – some trick of the light, perhaps, or a woman who merely resembled her. But then she looked up, meeting my eyes. There was no surprise in her expression, only a guarded watchfulness that confirmed everything in an instant.
I glanced at the people surrounding her: all Masons, all people I had seen in various police descriptions, along with another woman who looked like an older version of Clara and who I knew to be Frank Mason’s wife. The two women looked tiny amongst the huge thugs on either side of them.
My mouth went dry as I stared at the woman I’d held in my arms all night, the woman I declared my love to this morning. She stared back. That nothingness was back in her eyes again. My grip loosened on the file I was carrying and some of the papers slid out of it, fluttering to thefloor.
My mind flashed back to all the information I’d researched on the Masons. There was very little information on the daughter, but unlike most of the Masons, she wasn’t considered a person of interest.
Her name was Clarabelle Mason.
My blood ran cold and I froze, right there in the middle of the courtroom.
“Rafe?” Willow whispered from behind me, jerking me out of my shock. I blinked, then bent to retrieve the papers that had escaped before I continued over to the prosecutor’s bench, setting down my papers in a controlled move that belied the chaos erupting inside me. My mind raced as I methodically arranged my papers. Clara. Here. Sitting on the defendant’s side. Sitting with her… family.
“Prosecution,” the court usher approached, “the defendant is being brought up now. Right Honourable Lady Chief Justice Harris will be in shortly after.”
I nodded, barely registering his words. How long ago was it that I was assigned this case? Everything clicked into place. Of course. The Masons had more reach than even I realised. To influence the allocation of cases at the CPS requires some high-level corruption. Who even was Clara? Was it all an act? The shy teacher helping my kid when nobody else could.
Ozzie.
Icy fury shot through me at the thought of my son. My own flesh and blood had been manipulated and used to get to me. Here I was, accusing Sophia of being a shit parent whilst I’d actually allowed a gang member’s sister into my home. Left her alone with my son.
The side door opened, and Frederick “Freddie” Mason was led in by court officials. He took his place in the dock. He had the same light brown hair as Clara, the same chocolatebrown eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. Freddie Mason was well over six foot and looked as though he’d been on the roids for some time. He was in a suit and tie but pulling at his collar, clearly uncomfortable and pissed off.
I forced myself to breathe steadily, to organise my thoughts. What had I told Clara about this case? Had I named names? Mentioned evidence? I’d been careful, I was always careful, but we’d talked about work. General terms, hypotheticals... but had I slipped?
“Are you alright?” Willow whispered, frowning at me. “You’ve gone quite pale.”
“I need to—” I began, but was interrupted by the court clerk’s announcement.
“All rise!”
The entire courtroom stood as Judge Katherine Harris entered in her robes and wig, her expression stern as always. I rose mechanically, my body following years of training while my mind continued to race.
“Be seated,” Judge Harris said, taking her place. “Court is now in session. The Crown versus Frederick Mason. Are both counsels ready to proceed?”
Mason’s defence barrister, Priya Sharma, rose smoothly. “Ready, My Lady.”
All eyes turned to me. I stood, straightening my shoulders.
“Lord Sterling? Is the prosecution ready?” Judge Harris prompted when I didn't immediately respond.
“My Lady, before we proceed, I must request an urgent matter be addressed in chambers,” I said, my voice remarkably steady despite the hammer of my pulse in my ears.
The judge’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Without even commencing the trial, Lord Sterling?”
“It is a matter of some urgency regarding my ability to represent the Crown in this case, My Lady.”
Judge Harris studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. Court will recess briefly while I speak with counsel in my chambers. The jury will remain in the waiting room until called.”
As the judge rose, I gathered my papers, still avoiding looking at Clara though I could feel her eyes on me. The anger was building now, replacing the initial shock. Four months of preparation. A solid case. A dangerous offender who deserved to be convicted. The other case linked to this, a career-making case. All potentially compromised because I’d let my guard down with a woman I clearly barely knew.
“Rafe, what are you doing?” Willow said in a harsh whisper, her eyes flashing with anger. I didn’t blame her. We’d worked for months on this case, and now I was flushing it down the bog because I was a weak, gullible idiot.
I shook my head before I glanced back at Clara again. She was sitting there with that same blank expression on her face. It felt like she’d detonated a bomb in the courtroom but was totally unaffected by the back blow of the explosion.
“Conflict of interest,” I muttered, nodding discreetly toward Clara in the public gallery. “I know her. Personally.”
