had never felt more exposed or more furious. Why? Why now? Who could the events of nearly forty years ago possibly be of interest to? It was past eleven when she snatched up the phone and punched in his number. An anonymous answer message played. Jenny said, 'Detective Sergeant Gleed, it's Jenny Cooper, Severn Vale District Coroner. I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'll expect your call tomorrow.'
She screwed up his number and tossed it into the grate.
Chapter 17
Detective Sergeant Gleed didn't return her call. Nor did Jenny manage to reach him through the switchboard at Weston police station as she sped over the Severn Bridge en route to her reconvened inquest. The detective's affectation of making himself unreachable infuriated her and she cursed him out loud for his petty attempt at intimidation.
Shouting out her frustrations in the privacy of her car was a release of sorts but, Gleed apart, Steve's challenge had been salt on an open wound. The pain had raged through a long, restless night and refused to be dampened by her morning dose of Xanax bolstered by a top-up of Temazepam. The drugs might have stopped her heart from racing and steadied her hand, but they did nothing to dull the inner ache. He had confronted her with the undeniable truth: there was something buried inside her she had to uncover, or she would be truly lost. McAvoy had seen it from the moment they met. Father Starr had interpreted his intuited insights into her unsettled mind as a word of the spirit; Alison had betrayed her suspicions in countless minor manifestations of disapproval. All of these Jenny had been able to disregard as quirks of character, but Steve was different. He knew her past and was forcing her back to it. Anyone else could be pushed away, but Steve had cornered her. He had locked her in a space alone with herself.
The news crews were already busy setting up as Jenny squeezed her Golf between their vans and parked on the rough grass at the side of the hall. They were a different crowd from those who had been present on the first day; she recognized the faces of several national television reporters among them. Making her way to the hall, she overheard an earnest young woman explaining to camera that the sudden apparent suicide of a witness who had failed to testify, coupled with Cassidy's allegation that Eva had lost her faith, suggested there were many questions the police inquiry had failed to answer. Or even ask, Jenny wanted to butt in.
'The parties are all assembled, Mrs Cooper,' Alison announced as she appeared in the office doorway, 'but counsel would like to speak to you in chambers before we begin.'
'What about?'
'They didn't say.'
'Didn't you ask them?' Jenny said as she gathered her papers, trying to ignore the sudden palpitations that the prospect of facing a row of awkward lawyers had caused to erupt.
Alison swallowed defensively. 'I didn't think it was my place.'
'I see. Has Michael Turnbull answered his summons?'
'I didn't notice him.'
'So he's failed to attend. Are his lawyers aware that amounts to contempt?'
'I wouldn't know.'
Jenny took a deep breath, struggling to hold her impatience with her officer in check.
Alison hovered uncertainly. 'Shall I tell them to come in?'
Jenny marched towards the door, her apprehension turning to anger. 'You can tell them to stand up.'
Christopher Sullivan and Ed Prince wore expressions of surprised indignation as Jenny took her seat at the head of the packed hall. She could see Father Starr and Kenneth Donaldson amidst the swollen ranks of reporters, but there was no sign of Michael Turnbull. She did, however, spot a new face alongside Prince: a female lawyer with the hard attractiveness and sharp-eyed gaze that could only belong to a seasoned litigator, and wearing an outfit that could only have been afforded by a partner in a wealthy firm. She was their new tactician, Jenny guessed; a woman sent to read and undermine her.
Sullivan was first to his feet. The new lawyer flashed him a look that reminded him to remain polite. 'Ma'am, might counsel be permitted to address you briefly in chambers?'
'I don't see counsel in chambers, Mr Sullivan,' Jenny said, still battling a racing heart. 'As a matter of principle I conduct my business in public and on behalf of the public whose interests I represent.'
He strained to be polite. 'As an exceptional deviation from the rule, it would be much appreciated.'