Название: Those Who Lie: the gripping new thriller you won’t be able to stop talking about
Автор: Diane Jeffrey
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9780008229757
isbn:
‘Well, I’m still not sleeping very well,’ Emily admitted, ‘and when I do manage to fall asleep, I have nightmares.’
Emily’s nightmares had got worse and worse since her father’s murder. Since then, she’d relived the whole incident several times in her sleep. At the end of the scariest dream she’d had, Graham Cavendish had survived.
‘We’ll have to see if the doctor can prescribe you some light sedatives.’ Lucy kept her caring eyes on Emily as she took some papers out of her bulging briefcase and sat down. ‘Are you eating better?’
‘Yes.’ She told herself it wasn’t a complete lie. She was making an effort to finish her meals. She just wasn’t keeping them down.
‘Uh-huh,’ came the response.
Emily realised she wasn’t fooling Lucy.
‘Are you ready to talk about what’s likely to happen to you, Emily?’
‘Yes.’
‘And I want to go through everything again just to be clear. That will be more for my benefit than yours, though, as you won’t have to talk during the trial. The recorded tapes of your interviews will be played in court instead. Firstly there were the interviews with the arresting officers in Barnstaple Police Station on Christmas Day, then those with DC Hazel Moreleigh and DS Michael Tomlinson in the Devon and Cornwall Police Headquarters over the following days.’
Lucy had already told Emily all this, and she felt very relieved that she wouldn’t have to take the stand.
‘As I’ve said before, you’ll be tried in the Crown Court here in Exeter. Your trial shouldn’t last more than a week. My guess is four days. Your sister and your mother will be called as witnesses.’
Here, Lucy paused. Emily realised her lawyer was also dreading the impression Josephine might make. She’d promised Emily she would ‘pull herself together.’ Emily supposed that meant she would sober up. But although Josephine had attended every one of Emily’s interrogations, as the law required, it was impossible to predict how drunk she’d be from one day to the next. Sometimes her presence had been merely a physical one. At best, she smelt slightly of whiskey; at worst, she couldn’t walk into the room straight, then tried hard not to doze off during the interviews. Emily could hardly blame her. After all, her daughter had just murdered her husband.
Amanda, on the other hand, had been very supportive. Emily often wondered how she would have coped that night without her sister. When, unbelievably, the gunshot hadn’t woken up Josephine, Amanda had decided to wait a while before calling 999. Then she’d gone over the questions the police were likely to ask Emily so she knew what to expect.
The emergency services had arrived two hours later, rather conspicuously in two squad cars and an ambulance with blue lights rotating and sirens blaring. Emily was sitting on the bedroom floor and Amanda was kneeling beside her, gently rocking her and stroking her hair. They were both covered in blood. Emily vaguely remembered her mother, who must have finally woken up when the police arrived, rushing towards them, an anxious look on her face. There were also two police officers. One of them had gone pale at the sight of all the blood while his colleague asked Emily and Amanda where they were hurt.
Amanda had done all the talking. Emily had been very grateful for that. It was Amanda who had used a blanket to cover up their father’s body and his gun as they lay side by side on Emily’s double bed. Emily had felt proud of her sister for everything she’d done that evening.
Since that night, Emily had often repeated to herself the words Amanda had said over and over to her as they were sitting on the bedroom floor: It’s over now, Emily. He can’t hurt you any more. It had become her mantra. Amanda had been Emily’s rock. She felt that she owed her life to her sister.
‘I’m sure Amanda’s testimony will be very useful,’ said Lucy tactfully, bringing Emily out of her reverie and back to the present. ‘She was there that night and she speaks very highly of you.’
Lucy leaned forwards and reached across the table to pat Emily’s hand. The contact made Emily jump and her knee hit the table quite hard. It didn’t budge; the very first time she’d come into this room, Emily had noticed that the furniture was bolted to the floor.
‘Now, for the trial itself,’ Lucy began, removing her hand from Emily’s to adjust her headscarf. ‘We couldn’t really have raised the issue of fitness to plead. No judge would have found you unfit to plead. It’s obvious from your school reports that you’re a very bright young lady, so clearly you’ll have no trouble understanding the proceedings of your trial. We can’t go for self-defence either—’
‘Why not?’ Emily asked, trying to sound patient, but wishing that Lucy would tell her what arguments she did intend to use rather than what she’d rejected.
‘Well, as you know,’ Lucy said, ‘the police didn’t just find the murder weapon; they also found a straight razor with an open steel blade, so it will be hard to rebut either premeditation or intent. And anyway, self-defence doesn’t really work like that. No, our best defence is to stress the mitigating factors – the, uh, abuse. Thanks to the examination you had in the North Devon District Hospital just after your arrest, we’ve got evidence for rape. If we can argue successfully for a special defence of diminished responsibility, you’ll only be found guilty of voluntary manslaughter.’
Emily tried to fight against her increasing panic. Lucy had already explained diminished responsibility to her, but this was the first time she’d mentioned voluntary manslaughter. ‘What do you mean, only?’
Lucy chose not to answer that. ‘Furthermore, Dr Irvine’s report will help us to exonerate you from the murder charge.’ Dr Rosamund Irvine was the psychiatrist who’d been treating and assessing Emily since shortly after her arrest. ‘She has said that you’re suffering from depression. Your self-harming and suicide attempt support this, according to her.’
Emily had cut into the skin on her forearm with a plastic knife she’d taken from the canteen. She’d also stored up her antidepressants and painkillers for several days and had taken them all together. But the knife had broken easily and she hadn’t had nearly enough pills to do herself any real damage. Her psychiatrist had told her it was a cry for help, and that help was here now.
‘Dr Irvine has stated that your depression started before your father was killed, and that’s vital,’ Lucy continued. ‘This will show that your mental state was too fragile at the time for you to be accountable for, um, your actions. Dr Irvine’s conclusions will be backed up by the psychologist you were referred to by your GP last October.’
Emily raised her eyebrows. She’d had just two sessions with this psychologist. He’d seemed completely indifferent to what she’d told him, which wasn’t very much.
‘Emily,’ Lucy’s tone was even softer than before. ‘I’m very confident that diminished responsibility will be applied. That will allow the judge discretion as to how to pass sentence. It will depend on the judge, of course. But I think we should be optimistic. Given your circumstances and your, um, mental health, you’ll be given a hospital order so that you can get the treatment you need rather than a sentence based on punishment.’
‘How long?’
‘My guess is a maximum stay of three years in a care home. You’ll probably be СКАЧАТЬ