She picked up her motorcycle helmet with a faint, strained smile. ‘All right. I go near his house on my way to work. If you follow me I can take you right to his door.’
Bob exploded. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Sarah? You can’t go to work! For Christ’s sake — Emily’s missing!’
Sarah’s voice remained quiet and dry; exhausted but determined. ‘I know that, Bob. I’ve already been out on the bike to look for her but it does no good. I don’t know where she is and neither do you. And now we’ve got the police to search for us. I’ve got a job to do.’
‘Defending a bloody rapist — when your own daughter might be lying dead somewhere! You’re out of your mind!’
‘It’s you that’s out of your mind, Bob. You’ve been shouting nonstop for four hours, and I can’t take any more. I think Emily will come back when she’s good and ready. In the meantime I’ve got one speech to make in court and that’s it. I’ll ring when I can. Do you want to follow me, Terry?’
Terry, like Bob, was aghast. ‘I … don’t need to do that, Sarah. Just give me your son’s address and I’ll find it.’
‘Oh, all right. Bob knows it.’ She turned for the door. Terry had the impression she was sleep-walking. Her husband tried to block her path.
‘For God’s sake, Sarah — I need you here! Just ring the court and explain — the judge’ll adjourn the trial!’
To Terry’s amazement, she walked right past him, out of the door. ‘Don’t stop me, Bob. I have to do this. Nothing I do here will make any difference this morning, anyway.’
And then she was gone. The three men heard the motorbike engine start up, cough to a crescendo as she roared out of the short drive, and gradually fade into the distance. Terry had a sense that something was wrong here, something surreal. That woman had just put the defence of a brutal rapist before the search for her own daughter.
Chapter Twelve
It was, ironically, a sunny day. The sky was a brilliant blue as Sarah rode into York, and sunlight slanted diagonally across her desk to light up the brief, tied with faded red tape. Beside it were the handwritten notes for her speech, prepared last night before going home.
Last night. So long ago it seemed. A decade past.
She tried to recall what the speech was about. That was why she was here, why she had come in. Wasn’t that what she had learned over the years? Never be distracted by the accidents of daily life; identify your main goal, focus all your efforts on achieving it. The other things will sort themselves out on their own.
Emily will come back. Of course she will.
So how was she going to present this case? Sarah bent over her notes, and tried to concentrate.
Anyway Bob’s at home and the police are the professionals, not us.
Concentrate. The main thing is to destroy the identification evidence. Without that there’s no case. Accept the jury’s sympathy for Sharon as a victim but insist it wasn’t Gary who did it. Get them to accept the possibility that the brutal rapist is still out there, wandering free. Looking for another victim.
A teenage girl perhaps.
Shut up. Focus. Concentrate. The police found no hood, no watch, no witnesses apart from Keith Somers. He’s damaging, but his evidence is circumstantial — how exactly did I plan to deal with him …?
Emily, dragged by the hair into some grotty bedroom, forced to her knees, punched in the face, her legs dragged apart …
God no! Stop it!
‘Hi there, sunshine!’
‘What?’ She looked up, took her hands away from her eyes.
‘Are you OK?’ It was Savendra, his cheerful face suddenly registering concern.
‘Not really, Savvy. No.’
‘What is it? Family row?’
‘Worse than that. Family’s vanished. Emily’s gone walkabout.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He sat down in front of the desk. Sarah explained, briefly, trying to make light of it. ‘Of course she’ll come back, it’s just a mega teenage tantrum aimed at causing us all maximum embarrassment, that’s all …’
‘The police are searching, and you’re still here?’
‘Of course I’m here. I’ve got a case to defend, haven’t I? Last day, speeches, summing up, verdict. You remember verdicts?’
‘Yes, but … you could get it adjourned. These are exceptional circumstances beyond your control, surely. The judge — who is it, Gray — he’ll understand.’
‘Will he? Perhaps — but what will he understand? That I can’t be a mother and a barrister at the same time? That the courts have to make special allowances for women? That everything gets slowed up because of my daughter’s stupid tantrum? No, Savvy …’
‘He won’t see it like that …’
‘He will, Savvy, he will, because he’s an unreconstructed chauvinist who thinks women should be at home doing the dishes and not in court at all. And even if he doesn’t think it others will. It’ll go the rounds, you know it will. “That Sarah Newby, she knows her stuff but she’s not reliable. Family problems, likely to take a day off to look after the kids. Better off with a man.” That’s what they’ll say.’
Savendra shook his head. ‘There’s world of difference between looking after the kids and looking for them, Sarah. The courts aren’t completely full of sharks and jackals, you know.’
‘Aren’t they, Savvy? Which courts do you work in?’ A wry, bitter smile dispelled the tears that had been threatening.
‘Well …’ Savendra saw the point. All barristers needed good cases to build up their reputation. Of all those who took law degrees less than 10 % took bar exams; of those called to the bar only 50 % found a place in chambers; of those who found a place in chambers only a tiny fraction made a living in their first years. If a colleague dropped a case for whatever reason, there was a feeding frenzy of others to snap it up.
‘Anyway, Bob’s there. They don’t sack headmasters for taking a day off. It’s called role reversal, Savvy, it’s the new idea for twenty-first century woman. And man.’
‘Well.’ He reached across to pat her gently on the arm. ‘Where do you think she is?’
‘If I knew that don’t you think I’d be there now?’ Sarah’s eyes would have shrivelled him to a burnt crisp on the seat of his chair, if they hadn’t been suddenly softened by tears. ‘Anyway Emily’s just trying to get at me, Savvy. To criticise my success. I won’t let her.’
The contrasting sentiments were so harsh and shocking Savendra could find no response. He decided to step back from this emotional quicksand onto safer ground.
‘So do you think you’ll get the rapist off?’
‘Rapist?’ Emily dragged into the back of a van, driven hundreds of miles to the south of England, sealed in a cellar to die of abuse and starvation … ‘Oh, you mean Harker?’
‘Of course. Who else?’
‘Do my best.’ She indicated the notes on her desk. ‘He claims he’s innocent, Savvy.’
‘So you have to defend him.’
‘That’s my job.’
‘Mine too.’
The two barristers smiled at each other, knowing how seldom it was that they really believed in the innocence of the clients they defended. Savendra got to his feet. ‘I wish you luck, then. But if you want me to take over …’
‘No chance.’
He shut the door softly behind him, leaving her alone with her notes.
After Sarah’s dramatic departure Terry looked at Bob Newby with concern. The man seemed unable to keep still. He paced up and down the room anxiously..
‘What now, Mr — Inspector Bates, isn’t it?’
‘Bateson, sir. Well, I think you should stay here, sir, in case your daughter rings or simply turns up …’
‘You think she’ll turn up, just like that?’
‘Quite often that’s exactly what happens, sir. And it’s important that someone’s here to meet her or she might just go off again.’