“You have things in place like we talked about?”
I nodded. “I filed my will—not that there’s anything to bequeath—and signed that contract with my friend who is officially Olive’s caregiver while I’m gone. Child Protective Services have been dealt with and are happy with the arrangement. I did what you said.”
“Good.”
Silence fell between us again.
I’d made Justin swear to stay away from court. To spend the day with Olive and focus on taking her to school for re-orientation. She’d officially start back next week, once my fate was decided.
Justin had once again proven to be a friend who deserved a seat on the council of heaven. He was so selfless that it sometimes seemed sinister. I caught myself searching for an ulterior motive, some sign he was evil and running a long game like my uncle.
I almost wanted him to turn out to be a bad guy because I couldn’t accept that there were people as good as him. As good as O. They were the same. Two generous, loyal people who shouldn’t have to put up with the likes of me.
“Does your kid know what’s happening?” Brad asked, shuffling his legal pad and pen into orderly fashion on the desk. We sat in court, waiting for everything to begin.
I cleared my throat. “I told her I would still be close and that she can visit but that I won’t be living with her for a while.”
“How did it go?”
I laughed painfully. “Awful.”
“Always is.” He gave me a pitiful look. “Just remember, nothing lasts forever. Good, bad, terrible—it all passes in the end.”
I didn’t reply.
Last night, while hugging Olive, I’d done my best not to suffocate her, knowing my allotment of hugs had come to an end. Justin had given us privacy, vowing he’d guard her while I could not.
I’d never felt more destitute as I had in that moment. Asking another man to look after my own flesh and blood. I didn’t have shit in my bank account, and I didn’t have shit in my human worth to ever pay him back.
My heart pounded as more people trickled into the courtroom. Brad Scott had fought many cases, representing low-level criminals and white-collar, but I doubted he’d dealt with a case where the public stood outside the courthouse, demanding justice by cutting off my hands so I could never paint and then tying me to a tree to bleed out.
The family of the girls who’d been killed sat silently on the benches, waiting to hear my fate. A few journalists with pens poised over notepads and recording devices also waited for the show. It wasn’t a big audience—probably court requested so emotions didn’t get out of hand—but I had no support or friends in the sea of people who wanted me to die.
Justin was elsewise occupied.
And I hadn’t told O what time I would face judgement.
I didn’t want her to see my end.
My gaze danced around the space, not making eye contact with anyone. The overall atmosphere was of death and decay, ready to send me to a coffin rather than a cell.
The jury hadn’t come in yet. I didn’t know how courts worked or what I was in for.
I would learn as it unfolded and then suffer the consequences.
“How will this go?” I linked my hands together, thinking of the paint supplies and boxes that I’d put into storage that Justin had in his apartment building. I thought about Olive and her pretty smile and not being able to tuck her into bed tonight. I thought about the waste of a life all because I’d always been so fucking naïve and too proud to ask for help.
I wanted help today.
But I didn’t know how to ask for it.
“Well, you’re slightly different. The public have put pressure on the system which is why your court date has been rushed. You’ll be judged by a twelve-person jury. Once they’re sworn in, the prosecution will present the evidence. Call a few witnesses if they have any. Maybe call you to the stand. And then, it’s my turn. The judge has already read the case files but we’ll give our side of the story as candidly and as truthfully as you did when we rehearsed the other day. Okay?”
I nodded even though nausea ran through me. “Okay.”
“Good.” He brushed lint off his navy suit. “Once everything has been presented, the jury will deliberate, and the judge will oversee the verdict.”
“And then I go to prison.”
“Maybe.”
“But the chances of me going home tonight are nil.”
His eyes narrowed, not sugar-coating or making false promises. “You committed murder, Mr. Clark. You admitted to it. Unless a miracle happens today, you’re serving time. The question is how much and in what form.”
I settled back in the hard chair as more people dribbled in. Time took on a strange nightmare quality. My body felt as if quicksand sucked at me, sinking into the floor.
A loud clang sounded behind me as the double doors of the crown court were closed. An official clerk asked us to rise for the honourable judge, and the selected jury trickled in from the backroom to be sworn in to assess me fairly but harshly.
By the time the judge pinned me with her icy blue eyes, her age wearing lines around her lips and white wig sitting perfectly on her head, I’d died, revived, and waited for death all over again.
Shifting in the chair, I pulled out a picture of Olive that I’d tucked inside my wallet. A printed piece of normal paper where the colours were wish-wash and paper creased, the image snapped on my phone and printed on Justin’s printer.
It was us two nights ago while we’d sat at Justin’s dining room table with the views over the Birmingham skyline while I taught her yet another technique of bending paint to her will. She was so smart. So talented. She could scale any goal and crush any dream.
She’d survived a year without me.
She could survive more, especially now that she had Justin looking out for her.
My thumb traced over her lovely face as the prosecution began presenting the evidence. I didn’t listen. I already knew what happened to the girls as they’d slipped into drawn-out death. I already knew how Jeffery took his last breath.
I just kept my eyes on my daughter and waited for my turn to tell a story.
* * * * *
“Mr. Clark, as you’re aware, today has been a long day and we’ve seen and heard some disturbing things. It’s public knowledge that the family of the deceased want you to pay for what happened to their daughters, as they should—as anyone should when a loved one is stolen from them.” Brad Scott paused, walking around with his hands in his suit pockets, looking at the jury, judge, and audience. “I’m an upstander of justice, and I’m also sworn to represent you to the best of my ability. Since taking you on as a client, I’ve had emails and phone calls, death threats and curses if I get you off what you deserve.”
I swallowed, risking a quick look at the jury. They sat stone-faced and already resolute on their verdict, thanks to the overwhelming evidence presented by the prosecution. Sitting in the box in front of court was a terrifying place to be. I was on display. I had nowhere to hide. No way to stop the inevitable.
For four hours, they’d thrown every fact and grotesque incident that’d happened, sticking it entirely to me. Even I couldn’t deny the facts—the man who orchestrated those poor girls’ deaths was a monster and deserved to rot in hell.