‘An abrupt, cold lady, to tell the honest truth. Savage, I thought. I honestly thought she was going to kill me, especially when I saw that she was holding onto a knife.’
I almost heard the full-time whistle. That was it. The jig was up.
The rest of the trial was white noise. There was no coming back from this. No way could Andrew describethatas a pure coincidence. Macleod, O’Neill, and how serendipitous it was that I had driven a hundred miles from my home to see the final member of the trinity. The only thing they didn’t have from me was a motive, but Andrew and I both understood that if Clark further elaborated on the connection between me and the three of them, it would only give Isla more ammunition to prove that I’d killed O’Neill. It wouldn’t matter how awful we painted O’Neill as being, it would only give the jury more reason to think I killed him.
I couldn’t even bear to look in the direction of Gareth in the gallery. How could I? I had thrown everything away, but the worst part of it all – the rotting feeling gobbling away inside of me – was that I still didn’t regret anything I’d done.
I think I would have done it again.
The trial was done for the day, and after the judge banged her gavel, the crowd slowly began to disperse and filter out, mostglancing in my direction to see how low I was hanging my head. I looked for Gareth, but he wasn’t there any more. I expected he’d left a while ago, and I couldn’t say I blamed the man; he’d made his exit for good. I guess I could expect the divorce papers in prison.
I had hated omitting major sections of my life over the course of our marriage, but what else could I have done? Let him see me for how fucked up I truly was? How was anyone meant to make a partner out of someone like me? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gareth was still a prick for getting me arrested, but he didn’t have to say sorry for me to forgive him. He didn’t know who I was any more.
‘Time to go,’ one of the policemen said as I finally relieved myself of the numbness in my legs. They led me through the various clandestine hallways of the courthouse before leading me outside and down the courtroom steps. They didn’t even ask if I needed a wee.
As they forcefully guided me through yet another set of grand corridors with spotless marble floors and vast, cavernous ceilings, the crowd gushed and surged around us. Some yanked their phones from their pockets and began filming, while those who I assumed were members of the press hurled questions that I couldn’t make out through the steady refrain of the police officers: ‘Keep moving, don’t stop, keep moving.’
But then, as if yanked by some invisible force, my eyes fixed on a single face within the horde of people. A scruffy, gaunt, bearded man. It took only a moment, a heartbeat, to realise it was Gareth. My Gareth.
Wait, was he still my Gareth?
Before we even had a moment to lock eyes like a scene from a cheesy rom-com where the female love interest gets arrested for brutally killing her neighbour, I was dragged away by one of the burly officers. I tried to twist my neck at a precarious angleto get another sight of him, but he was already lost in the throng. I hadn’t realised how much it would hurt to see him again. I wondered if he was feeling the same kind of hurt.
When they led me outside, the sun was falling just below the skyline, a few people around us enjoying the last bit of golden hour. I took a fraction of a second to enjoy the sun beaming on my face one last time without it being obscured by a wire fence. I opened my eyes again as I watched my feet, careful not to trip on the stone court steps leading down to the van. But there he was. Not twenty feet away from me. Clark.
He hadn’t seen me. He was shaking, bumbling as he tried to talk to Isla, but she was too busy tapping away on her phone to really take much notice of him, both of them standing next to my ride.
I could do it.
The policeman’s grip around my arm was limp. With enough swift force, I could easily slip out of it. They hadn’t made me wear handcuffs, which was something of a double-edged sword – handcuffs would have probably been the easiest way to snap his neck.
I had seconds to formulate a plan. Isla and Clark had barely noticed me approach them. One of the officers took his hand off me for a second to grab the keys to the back door of the van.
I knew how I was going to do it. I would charge into him as fast as I could, to knock him into the road. A car might take both of us out, which would be the best scenario, but if it didn’t, I would pummel into him with my fists again and again until his skull was crushed. I would have about three seconds to do it, so I predicted I had about three strong punches to kill the man stone cold dead, right there and then. I didn’t have time to scan my surroundings, but I hoped and prayed that Gareth wasn’t here to see this.
I yanked my arm out of the officer’s grip.
‘MADAM,’ he shouted.
I planned my trajectory, launched off with my legs and leapt towards Clark, but someone caught me mid-flight.
‘Let me go!’ I screamed.
The strong hands clasped me tight as the officers quickly snatched my upper arms and dragged me back, people erupting into chaos amongst the flash of phones and cameras.
The hands gently released me, as the two officers behind began to ferociously haul me towards the van.
Through the kicking and shouting, I saw it was Andrew who had caught me. He stayed close to me as I was towed, still flailing my limbs around and screaming, into the van, the officers’ firm grip cutting off any circulation to my arms.
‘Fran,’ Andrew hissed. ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop.’
‘Get away from the woman please, mate,’ the officer said to Andrew.
‘Just a second, I’m her lawyer!’ Andrew snapped back as the officers, ignoring him, opened the door and began to shove me inside. I tried to crane my neck back as Andrew leaned his face as near to mine as possible. ‘Fran, please, play nice for twenty-four hours. That’s all I need, twenty-four hours.’
Andrew was still trying to say something as the officers pushed me onto the bench, closed the cage door, and slammed it shut. Through the grills, I could see Clark looking my way, still firmly planted on his feet, Isla reassuringly stroking his back. I watched his face shift into one of smug satisfaction as we drove away.
God, I wanted to kill him so badly.
