BooksBarbecue
Back False Witness Save as PDF
Chapters (100)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. Acknowledgements
  97. DEAD GUILTY
  98. 1
  99. FALSE WITNESS
  100. Also by Michelle Davies

‘I’m doing this because you’re a good bloke, Alan, and I don’t think you realize the shit you’re in. I’ll leave the gate unlocked so you can get back in. But don’t be too long: if you’re not here by closing I can’t cover for you.’

Ten minutes later Alan crossed the playing field to the outbuilding, mindful to hug the path that kept him out of the watchful stare of the CCTV. He unlocked the door, flung it wide open and grabbed the plastic container he’d seen earlier, which held spare petrol for the school’s engine mower. Then he rifled through a drawer where he kept odds and ends until his fingers folded over the small wallet of matches he knew was somewhere in there.

The back door to the Pavilion was locked, as it should’ve been. Conscious that he needed to make it look as though vandals were responsible, Alan kicked it open. It took a few attempts before the frame splintered, the steel toecaps on his work boots taking the brunt of it.

He paused for a moment in the open doorway. To anyone else it would look like a lovely little hideaway, the sofas making the space seem inviting and comfy. Bile rose up and scorched his throat.

He went to the sofa nearest the door, a blue corduroy number, and splashed some of the petrol onto the seat cushions, but not much – just enough to get the flames going. With a bit of luck it would be mistaken for lighter fuel: kids messing around with cigarettes, being careless.

Returning to the doorway, Alan lit a match; his hands were trembling so violently it took multiple strikes for the spark to catch. Then he tossed it onto the sofa and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

37

Friday

Renshaw insisted everyone be in at 7 a.m for the briefing, no exceptions. Maggie had joined in the chorus of moans but was secretly grateful for the early summons – it gave her a convenient excuse not to mope about her flat wondering if Lou or her parents were going to get in touch to wish her happy birthday.

She hadn’t given much thought to turning thirty, not in the way some people fretted; it was another year to tick off rather than a milestone to dread. But as she applied her make-up in the bathroom mirror, skin illuminated by the bright daylight streaming through the window, she did peer at the fine lines feathering out from the corners of her eyes and resolve to invest in a decent eye cream the next time she went shopping.