As they were getting ready to file into the court, Harold Trout, right in front of Meg, suddenly stopped, holding back for a second. He pointed at the back of DeWinter’s bleached blond head and leaned over to whisper in her ear. ‘If that man’s IQ was any lower, we’d have to water him every day.’

She smiled and rolled her eyes. They entered the court and took their seats. The judge, already seated, addressed the jurors. ‘As you heard, a new, last-minute witness for the prosecution has just come forward. It looks likely that this trial will now go into a third week and I realize this will be an inconvenience to some of you. But I’m sure you all appreciate the gravity of the allegations against the defendant and I’m asking you to please understand the need for this extra time in the interests of giving the defendant a fair trial.’

He nodded to Cork. ‘Please proceed.’

‘I now call my next witness,’ the prosecutor said.

Meg watched a pugilistic-looking man in his forties, escorted by a security officer, make his way through the well of the court and into the witness box. He had a misshapen nose, gold ear stud and wore a battered leather jacket over a denim shirt and jeans. He had an awkward swing of his right arm.

‘Please state your name,’ the clerk asked.

‘Michael Starr,’ he said, nervously but clearly, then took the oath on the Bible.

‘Is it correct, Mr Starr, that you have pleaded guilty to all the counts that the defendant is currently being tried for before this court?’ Cork asked.

‘Yes, at the first opportunity.’

‘Mr Starr,’ Cork asked him in a friendly, gentle tone, ‘is it true you have made a full statement admitting your guilt and giving details of your criminal activities over the last fifteen years to the police?’

‘Yes, the other day.’

‘Do you know a man called Terence Gready?’

‘Yes, I do. He is sitting over there,’ Starr said, pointing at the defendant in the dock.

Cork continued. ‘How long have you known him?’

‘About eighteen years.’

Meg watched Gready. He was staring ahead, impassively. Then suddenly he glanced fleetingly at the jury – at her. Making eye contact with her, holding it for a moment too long.

Meg’s mind was in turmoil. She was already convinced of his guilt, and that Harold Trout was right. How many thousands of lives had been ruined by the drugs Gready had supplied? Yet here she was fighting for him to walk out of this court a free man.