The Guilty Couple(2)
Chapter 2
DOMINIC
2014
Dominic Sutherland braces himself as he approaches the side exit of the Old Bailey and hears the roar of the press pack outside as his solicitor opens the door. Over the last five days of the court case, he hasn’t been able to enter or leave without being surrounded by journalists and photographers, all shouting his name, firing camera flashes in his face and blocking his way. So far he’s managed to avoid giving them a single comment, despite the shouts of ‘Can you ever forgive Olivia?’ and ‘Will you stand by your wife if she’s found guilty?’ that trailed after him wherever he went. But he’s going to have to say something now.
The press have been chasing the story for weeks, intrigued by the tale of the suave chartered surveyor in his late thirties, his adorable ringleted daughter, his blonde wife, her lover and the crime that nearly cost Dominic his life. They’ve been picking over the details of the case: Liv’s affair, the life insurance policy she increased, the unknown hitman she tried to hire on the Dark Web and her confession to Danielle Anderson, personal trainer at Fit4Life gym and a serving detective in the Metropolitan Police.
Why? That was the question the press returned to. Why would a woman who had it all choose to have her husband murdered? Why not just leave him instead?
‘Everything okay, Dominic?’ Melanie Price, the CPS’s solicitor, puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘If you need a couple of minutes to—’
‘I’m fine.’ He smiles tightly and steps through the door.
Flash bulbs fire in his direction, making him blink, and a chorus of voices shout his name.
‘Dominic! How do you feel?’
‘Are you pleased with the verdict?’
‘Dominic! Rosie Jones from the Mirror, can I—’
‘Ladies and gents!’ Melanie raises a hand and the noise abates. ‘Mr Sutherland has prepared a statement. There are to be no questions afterwards, thank you.’
Dominic snatches a breath as he reaches inside his suit jacket for the statement he scribbled out at the kitchen table that morning as Grace banged around upstairs, getting herself ready for school. He’s already dreading the conversation he’ll have to have with her when he collects her from her friend’s house later.
He clears his throat and reads. ‘I would like to thank the Metropolitan Police Force, the CPS and the judge and jury for ensuring that justice has been done today. The sentence awarded to Olivia means that, for the first time in a long time, I will be able to sleep soundly tonight. Whilst our marriage was not perfect, I cannot fully express the horror I felt when I discovered that my wife and her lover were conspiring to have me killed.’ He pauses to take a breath. ‘It was down to the swift action of the police that their plan was foiled and I am able to address you all today. I would like to request privacy at this time as my daughter and I come to terms with what has happened and attempt to pick up the threads of our life. Thank you very much.’
There’s a lull of no more than a split second then the questions from the press start up again. Dominic ignores them.
‘Thank you.’ He shakes hands with Melanie and his family liaison officer and then squeezes his way through bodies, microphones and television cameras to reach the black BMW waiting for him further down the road. He slides into the back seat, closes his eyes and blows out his cheeks in a noisy sigh.
‘You all right there, mate?’
The driver is watching him in the rear-view mirror. His shoulders are wider than his seat and his neck is thick and lined beneath close-cropped hair. Dominic can almost imagine the man reaching into the glove box, pulling out a gun and twisting round to point it directly between his eyes. He chuckles at the irony of the thought.
‘I’m good, thanks. Oakfield Road, please. Crouch End.’
As the car pulls away he reaches into his inside pocket. His fingers touch the sleek, narrow shape of his mobile phone then slide away, to an altogether chunkier, cheaper phone. He takes it out and taps at the rubber buttons to access the unread text.
It’s just a single word: Well?
He taps out a reply: She’s not a problem any more. She got ten years.
Chapter 3
OLIVIA
Now – 2019
A fight has broken out in the middle of C Block. It’s been rumbling for a while and the wing’s been buzzing all day. You know when a fight’s coming because the air thrums with tension, like it does before a storm. For a lot of the women it’s something to look forward to, a break from the mundanity of the daily routine. Given all the screeching and shouting from the circle of onlookers, the two women scrapping in the middle aren’t the only ones releasing their anger and frustration during the fight.
I’m not entirely sure why they’re scrapping. Something about Sabrina disrespecting Gardo’s girlfriend Chanelle. They’re really going for it – grappling with each other and throwing punches, arms whirling, all elbows, nails and fists. Sabrina’s the shorter of the two women but what she loses in height she makes up for with her bulldog-like physique. Gardo’s landed some hard punches but Sabrina’s giving as good as she gets, despite her bloody nose and torn lip.
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Vicki Kelk darting into a cell that isn’t hers. I step out of my own cell to take a closer look. Kelk is a crackhead who’d rob her own granny to get money for drugs. She’s cruel too. She coerces girls into smoking spice then films them twitching and shuffling and staring like a zombie before uploading the videos onto YouTube via her smuggled mobile phone.