be here when you return. Promise,” he added, grinning. When he looked like that, it was truly possible to believe everything would be all right. “And collect the children from Jill. I want to know that you are all together.”
“I’ll FaceTime you once I get the children. Your mobile is right here on your bedside locker.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Chapter 67
Brett stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the evidence spread out before him on the ugly Formica table. Did every country have the same hideous furniture in their police stations? DI Marshall was speaking, but Brett wasn’t listening, his mind on what he would say to his parents when he was finally allowed to make his phone call.
He was under no illusions. They wouldn’t come to his rescue this time. He was on his own, not counting the drippy lawyer he’d been assigned, who looked tired and bored. This guy wouldn’t know how to make a credible objection if someone had supplied him with Murder Trials for Dummies. So far, all he’d done was advise Brett to cooperate. Fat chance. He wasn’t giving these morons anything. It was up to them to build a case against him, which they apparently had. Between the forensic evidence, Quinn’s statement, and some recording they kept mentioning, he was really and truly fucked. And to think that he’d gotten rid of Jo to help Quinn. This was positively the last time he’d do anyone any favors. From now on, he was out for himself.
He was forced to look at DI Marshall when the man slammed his hand on the table to get Brett’s attention. Brett met the man’s triumphant gaze, and fingers of apprehension walked up his spine, his body temperature dropping by several degrees.
“Brett Besson, you are hereby charged with the manslaughter of Jo Turing, as contrary to Common Law. You are hereby charged with attempted murder against Quinn Allenby Russell and Gabriel Russell, as contrary to Common Law. And you’re also charged with leaving the scene of an accident, just for good measure. Take him down,” DI Marshall said to one of his goons. He watched with obvious satisfaction as Brett was hauled out of the room and into a corridor that smelled of reheated food. It had to be lunchtime.
Brett glared at DI Marshall one last time, then allowed himself to be led away. As the old saying went, “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,” and this opera had only just begun. And even if they did manage to put him away, there were always mistrials, appeals, paroles, and early releases for good behavior. They might have nailed him for this, but they’d never find the others, Brett thought confidently.
Chapter 68
Christmas Eve 1777
Long Island
“Can I help?” Jocelyn asked as she walked into the kitchen, where Hannah was hard at work mashing potatoes.
“Absolutely not. You are to sit down and rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“I feel well, Hannah,” Jocelyn protested, but knew it was pointless. Everyone had been treating her like an invalid these past few weeks, and with good reason. She had recovered physically, but she was still fragile in both body and mind.
“If you are not going to rest, then get some air. You are as pale as the moon. Dr. Rosings did say you should take short walks.”
Jocelyn balked at that. She hadn’t left the farm since the fateful day she’d met Major Radcliffe in the woods, not even to attend church. But Hannah was right. It was time.
Draping a cloak over her shoulders, Jocelyn stepped outside. A gentle snow was falling, the landscape the dreamy lavender of a December twilight. She lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes and letting the snowflakes settle on her nose and cheeks. She was so lucky to be alive. Despite his training and rank, Major Radcliffe had proved to be a poor shot. He’d missed her heart by at least two inches, unwittingly saving Jocelyn’s life. The bullet had passed right through, leaving a clean exit wound. Jocelyn might have still bled to death out there in the cold had Derek not come looking for her, suddenly certain that she needed his help. He’d lifted her off the ground and run all the way back to the farm, calling to Josh to fetch Dr. Rosings without delay. They’d saved her. Again.
Jocelyn began to walk slowly, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. She was still afraid to leave the farm. Knowing that Major Radcliffe was out there