Grave Doubts Read Online Free Page A

an inspired move.’
    Nightingale sat down, stunned into silence. What sort of person did he think she was, to be able to behave like a machine in the course of duty at no matter what personal cost? The advice of her counsellor had been that she should not be compelled to take the stand as a witness. The woman rightly suspected that the trauma of the attack was deep-seated and had little to do with the physical injuries themselves. It was the memory of her helplessness, his strength and the weight of his body on hers, his fingers groping, touching her. That was her horror. She felt defiled and unworthy, but she’d been prevailed upon to testify, to relive it all, and the confidence placed in her had so far been proved right.
    ‘Ready to go back in?’
    ‘I don’t think so. I feel very shaky. Could it wait until tomorrow?’
    She felt trapped. The corridor was as stuffy as the court room. Sunshine burnt through the grimy windows, intense between the black bars of shadow. She shifted sideways into the dark and leant her head back against the wall, eyes closed.
    Around and above her voices gathered to persuade her that she should continue. If the defence was left to regroup and reconsider tactics their advantage might be lost. She capitulated and pushed herself to her feet. As she entered the courtroom her knees started shaking and she felt dizzy. It was only nerves she told herself, not a premonition.
    She risked a glance towards the gallery. Her brother was sitting there beside a suntanned stranger with curiously bright eyes. They both smiled back and she took a deep breath.
    ‘Sergeant?’
    Stringer had noted her glance away and raised an impatient eyebrow, anything to undermine her confidence. If only he knew how little she had left! But her smart suit and careful make-up presented a perfect, professional picture. Impervious camouflage.
    ‘Let us turn to the night of 12 th February last year. The night that the prosecution alleges the defendant attacked you.’
    ‘The night he tried to rape me.’ Stringer bristled. ‘Yes sir, I remember it well.’
    ‘Then use that recall to describe your version of events to us.’
    Nightingale took a deep breath. Her mouth was dry. All the remaining moisture in her body seemed to have collected in chill pools around the waistband of her skirt and under her arms.
    ‘It was the second time that the defendant invited me to join him for a date. On the first occasion he didn’t turn up, although it was from that night I had the sense that I was being followed.’
    ‘A “sense”, Sergeant, is not evidence as you well know, and the facts are that despite a significant police presence, there were no sightings of the defendant following you. Is that correct?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ She resisted the desire to tell the jury that her car had been vandalized and her rubbish searched. It had all happened in the five days between the first and second invitations but as there’d been no trace of the defendant it was purely circumstantial.
    ‘On February 12 th I followed the directions I’d received from the defendant. I arrived at the meeting point, which was by the bandstand in Harlden Park, three minutes late at five thirty-three p.m. I waited until six fifteen and then left. To reach my car, I had to walk back through the rose garden and along a path through rhododendron bushes.’
    ‘Why didn’t you choose a better lit route? It was dark, after all.’
    ‘That would have taken me fifteen minutes instead of five and normally the path is well lit.’
    ‘Continue.’
    ‘As I entered the shrubbery, there was a noise from the bushes so I looked around to find another way. There wasn’t one so I walked on.’
    ‘You make yourself sound alone but you were, in fact, surrounded by police and were carrying a wire, is that not so?’
    ‘I was wired. However, the problem with the bandstand rendezvous was that it meant the officers watching had to remain on the edge of the park. There were two