Blue Moon #3 (Story of Us Series - Into the Blue) - Sydney Jamesson Page 0,133
massaging his chin. “And is it true that you’re in the process of writing a book? A book in which you’ll be documenting these events?” He waits for an answer, thinking he has out manoeuvred the unflinching witness.
Ayden tips up his chin. “This is true. I have been asked to write my autobiography.”
“And would it be fair to say that your involvement in a high profile case of this nature would boost sales significantly, Mr. Stone?”
“You would have to ask my publisher,” Ayden states with a smile. “It matters not one iota to me whether it sells or not, and quite frankly, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to read it. But I guarantee that the charity I choose to receive the royalties will be more interested in that than myself.”
“So you would have the jury believe that your sudden willingness to give evidence is a philanthropic act of human kindness, and not a marketing ploy? Is that what you’re saying?”
Feeling as if my windpipe is being crushed, I hold my breath, picturing Ayden’s hand tightening around my lock of hair.
Don’t react, baby.
He thunders on. “I’m saying … that I’ve come here to see justice done. Elise Richards and every other child they molested, tortured and raped had no one to speak out for them. As someone who is about to become a father for the first time, I’m here to see to it that the world is made a safer place. That will only happen when they are locked up behind bars.” Seething with frustration, he adjusts his tie. “Anything else you’d like to ask me about publishing while I’m here?”
“No thank you, Mr. Stone. That will be all.”
Ayden returns to his seat, but not before catching the eye of Sam Bellamy sitting near the back of the room. I know what he’s thinking—her idea to work with him on his autobiography could jeopardise this case. The lawyer for the defence had succeeded in planting a tiny seed of doubt in the minds of the jury as to his motivation for coming forward. This should be a straightforward case where guilty is the unanimous verdict, but now that’s unlikely to happen.
Out of the blue, Ayden takes a sheet of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Malcolm. He quickly explains what it contains and its significance to the trial.
I tap Ayden on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
He leans back and whispers. “I just got fucked over. I’ve given Malcolm Elise’s letter. I wasn’t going to use it, but I’ve no choice. I can’t let them walk away from this.”
I give his shoulder a squeeze. I’d forgotten that Mack had handed it to him when we returned from hospital after Elise’s death. I was the one who encouraged him to discover it. How could I have forgotten? I can’t recall what she had written, but it must be relevant or Ayden wouldn’t be insisting that Malcolm use it.
A minute later, Malcolm stands and clears his throat. “Excuse me. Some evidence has just come to light. May I approach the bench?”
He moves in the direction of the judge, flanked by the lawyer for the defence. They are whispering, gesticulating, pointing back at Ayden who is biting his lip and explaining what he’s done to Stephen.
Once everyone is seated, the judge announces, “A document has been handed to the court, and I’m allowing it to be taken into consideration as admissible evidence. Please proceed, Mr. Raynor.”
Malcolm stands. “Thank you, your honour. I have a letter written by Elise Richards. With it came strict instruction that it should not be opened unless she was dead. It was addressed to Mr. Stone.” Not wanting to read it himself, he hands it to his assistant who moves to the stand.
An attractive blond-haired woman with a natural smile—a wasted asset in this instance—unfolds the sheet. She’s a little younger than Elise was when she died but, nevertheless, a suitable candidate for the task of reading out her letter. She clears her throat
Dear Ayden,
You reading this can only mean one thing. I am dead or dying.
I’ve written this letter hoping you’ll do a couple of things for me that I’ve not had the courage to do for myself. You’re a man of your word and, even though we have become distant, I know you loved me once; not as much as I loved you, but what little love you have shown me has been more than anything I could hope for or deserve.