She was mostly drowned out by Santino ranting. ‘Kendra, if you ever try to sneak off, you won’t be hard to find—on account of you’re as dumb as a box of hammers. I will find you and I will throw you off the tallest building in this city or—hey, I know, maybe I should cut your stupid fucking throat so I don’t have to listen to your whiny fucking voice one second longer.’

As the audio played, Santino kept his head down, eyes fixed on his shoes, but his voice filled the courtroom, making every particle of the air vibrate with dark energy.

Anita was breathing too rapidly, tipping close to a panic attack. At the same time as she sat listening to Kendra’s tape, her mind was replaying the phone video of Stacey pleading with Matt. And as two women pleaded for their lives, here was Anita paralysed in her seat, useless. She couldn’t do anything for Stacey or Kendra. She couldn’t do anything for either of them.

Anita was still so light-headed from hyperventilating that when the recording ended and the barristers put forward their arguments, the words were indecipherable to her.

When Justice Burke announced his decision, his voice seemed muffled, as if the sound had to push through viscous air in the courtroom to reach her.

Burke ruled for the defence. The recording had been made without consent and could have been doctored. It would not be admissible.

Anita forced herself to sit very still, head in her hands, hoping her dizziness would settle. The three journalists near her in the gallery were whispering to each other, but Anita kept her head down.

None of the journalists would be permitted to report on anything they’d heard during the voir dire, but not one of them could unhear that audio. If they’d held any scrap of doubt about Santino’s guilt—if only to maintain the storytelling interest in the trial, holding out for a narrative twist or whatever—that was gone now.

The young female journo sitting next to Anita nudged her and pointed out Brooke Lester, who was walking back into the courtroom along with other spectators.

The jurors were then escorted back into court through a side door. Anita watched as each juror resumed their seat. They would make their decision about John Santino without ever hearing that audio.

FOURTEEN

PAULA COULD SEE ANITA WAS WINDING HERSELF UP INTO one of her agitated states. Ever since they were teenagers, she had been the one to coax Anita to dial back her escalating anxiety about whatever she was fixating on and steer her away from doing something foolish. It was a pattern they were both familiar with. A running joke even. Sometimes Anita would be resentful, feel patronised by Paula, but mostly she said she was grateful.