Denver newspaper: INQUEST TODAY INTO DEATH OF PREGNANT WOMAN IN SNOWBOUND CAR.
She reads the article with interest. She remembers the original story; it made all the Denver papers. It had resonated with her because the woman who died was pregnant. It was so sad. She’s startled now to see that there are some questions about it, that it might not have been an accident after all.
How awful, she thinks.
She’ll have to watch the news at six and get the details.
Patrick is wearing a well-cut navy-blue suit, a white shirt and a conservative blue tie. He has been advised by his lawyer on his attire, and everything else. He sits in the stopped taxi in front of the local courthouse in Creemore, Colorado, leery of the reporters standing nearby, waiting for him. The time has come. The air is brisk now; it’s mid-October, and it’s always cooler in the mountains. They arrived here last night, he and Stephanie, for what is expected to be a one-day hearing. The twins are staying in Aylesford with Stephanie’s friend Hanna.
It feels strange to be back here, in Creemore.
It’s been a hellish few weeks. The notification of the coroner’s inquest, the meeting with the lawyer in Denver, his concern about Stephanie. The twins have finally and rather suddenly got over their colic – the only good thing that’s happened in the last few shitty weeks. They now go down without too much fuss at around 10 p.m. and sleep until about 6 a.m. The screaming and crying stopped without warning, just like the doctor said it would. They couldn’t believe it, kept expecting the peace to end.
But it hasn’t been the blessing they hoped for, because Stephanie seems to have lost the habit of sleep. She is now plagued with insomnia, all, no doubt, because of him. She lies in bed staring into the dark, or wanders the house in the middle of the night like some tortured Lady Macbeth. She looks worn out, her shoulder-length hair limp, her skin pale, her eyes puffy. She no longer wears make-up, although she has made an effort today. His attorney had impressed upon her how important appearances are at times like this – she must look well rested, confident, and supportive of her husband. She looks none of these things, he thinks, glancing sidelong at her. He hadn’t wanted her to come. He thought it would be too much for her, and that she should stay home with the twins. But the attorney felt it was important that she be there.
And she’d wanted to come. In fact, she had insisted on it.
He desperately wants this to be over – for the jury to quickly find that the death was accidental so that they can go home and put this behind them. Stephanie will finally start to sleep again, she will regain her equilibrium and things will go back to normal. And Erica won’t be able to touch them.
They’ve sat in the cab for too long, and now the reporters are swarming around the vehicle. Stephanie looks at him, tense.
‘It’s going to be all right, Stephanie,’ he says. ‘After today, this will all be over.’ He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and kisses her on the cheek. She nods at him and turns away to unbuckle her seat belt.
They get out of the cab and begin to walk. Television crews follow them, and reporters with large microphones. Of course. This is big news in this little town – and in Denver, and even across the state. He’d seen the paper at breakfast this morning in the hotel: INQUEST TODAY INTO DEATH OF PREGNANT WOMAN IN SNOWBOUND CAR.
He’d read the entire article and then passed it to his wife. It didn’t say anything they didn’t know already; there was nothing in the article about Erica and what she might say. The journalists shout their questions.
Was it really an accident?
Mr Kilgour, did you deliberately kill your wife?
Why do they even ask such questions, Patrick thinks bitterly, striding forward, holding Stephanie’s hand – do they expect him to answer?
Do you know what new evidence has been uncovered?
Do you have anything to say in your defence?
Stephanie stumbles twice, latching on to his arm for support. He helps her up the steps and inside. Somehow they make it without Patrick lashing out at anyone.
It’s a modern room with a dais at the front, a witness box, long tables for the lawyers. This is supposed to be a