Chapters (130)
- Cover
- FIND THEM DEAD
- Dedication page
- Maps
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- FOUR MONTHS LATER
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- GLOSSARY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- NOW A MAJOR ITV SERIES
- I FOLLOW YOU
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- DISCOVER THE ROY GRACE BOOKS
- FIND THEM DEAD
- The Detective Superintendent Roy Grace books in order
- Also by Peter James
In the jury room, while everyone else discussed Emily Denyer’s financial evidence, Meg again read the WhatsApp message from her daughter, and stared at the attached photograph, the first one she had seen of the man that Laura said was following and photographing them.
She had been anticipating some swarthy slimeball with greased hair and slick sunglasses. But what she saw was a guy in his early thirties, with South American looks and close-cropped curly hair, casually dressed in a jogging top over jeans and trainers. He looked harmless, the kind of guy who could blend into any crowd. Which, presumably, was the intention.
Jorge.
Had the photographs which had been put on her kitchen table been taken by this man?
‘The financial evidence is utterly compelling,’ droned the voice of Harold Trout. ‘I don’t see how anyone could think otherwise.’
‘Well, I can,’ Toby DeWinter announced. ‘I am completely and utterly lost – and I didn’t like that woman anyway, she’s trying to bamboozle us with figures, IMHOP.’
‘Imhop?’ queried Maisy Waller.
DeWinter shook his head. ‘In my humble opinion,’ he translated.
‘Ah.’
‘Absolute nonsense,’ Trout retorted. ‘If you were concentrating, you’d have found it all very clear.’
DeWinter bristled. ‘There’s a big difference between following and understanding. That woman,’ he said, with contempt, ‘that Financial Investigator is nothing more than a prosecution puppet. She’s spent God knows how many hours trotting out links between shell companies, board members and bank accounts all around the world, but in all these bloody spreadsheets is there one mention of the defendant’s actual name on any board of directors or on any bank account?’
‘Well, of course not,’ Trout replied, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down frantically, his voice rising. ‘That was the whole point – total obfuscation.’
‘Hey!’ Meg interrupted. ‘Can we all keep our tempers, please? Getting angry with each other is not going to get us very far. We’re not a bunch of squabbling school children. Please remember, Harold, that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, whether you agree with them or not.’
In the moment of awkward silence that followed, Meg did wonder whether she should have let the argument continue. If it had broken into a fight, what would have happened? Two jurors who couldn’t be in the same room together – would that be enough for a retrial with a fresh jury – and a safe solution for her and Laura?
Then she heard the pompous voice of Hugo Pink. ‘I’m with Toby on this one,’ he said. ‘We’ve been shown very fancy financial shenanigans, I’ll grant you. But I’ve not yet seen any conclusive link to the defendant.’
There was a rap on the door and the jury bailiff entered, announcing they were required back in.