Read Online The Guilty One by Lisa Ballantyne - Free Book Online Page A

had been arrows to assail St. Sebastian, yet he had lived. Daniel could not remember how he had died, but it had been a violent death. Even as the police officers produced further evidence of Sebastian’s guilt, Daniel felt a stronger need to defend him. The witness had come forward to say that he had also seen Sebastian fighting with Ben much later in the day, in the adventure playground, after Sebastian’s mother said he returned home, although the sighting was not confirmed on CCTV. Daniel was not intimidated by this, nor the forensics. He had undermined such evidence often enough.
    Daniel could sense the police officers’ excitement as they persisted with their questions. He was waiting for them to step over the line—almost wanting them to go too far so that he could put a stop to it.
    “Can you explain how Ben’s blood might’ve gotten onto your clothes, Seb?” Turner asked again, his jowls heavy. “The scientists tell us that this kind of blood on your clothes might suggest that you had hurt Ben and made him bleed in this way.”
    “Might suggest,” said Sebastian.
    “Excuse me?”
    “The blood might suggest that I had hurt him. Suggest means you don’t know for sure . . .”
    Daniel watched a ripple of anger cross Turner’s face. They wanted to break the boy—that was the point of the lengthy questioning—but Sebastian was proving stronger than they were.
    “ You know for sure, don’t you, Sebastian. Tell us what you did to Ben.”
    “I told you,” Sebastian said, lower teeth protruding above his lower lip. “I didn’t hurt him. He hurt himself.”
    “How did he hurt himself, Sebastian?”
    “He wanted to impress me, so he jumped off the climbing frame and hurt himself. He banged his head and his nose was bleeding. I went to see if he was all right, so I suppose that would have been when his blood got onto me.”
    Despite the temper, this new information seemed to please Sebastian. He sat up straighter and nodded a little, as if to confirm its authenticity.
    At seven o’clock on Wednesday, they brought dinner to Sebastian and his mother, which they ate in the cells. It depressed Daniel to watch them. Charlotte ate little. Daniel followed her when she stepped outside for a cigarette. It was still raining. He turned up the collar on his jacket and put his hands in his pockets. The smell of her cigarette smoke turned his stomach.
    “They just said they’re going to charge him,” said Daniel.
    “He’s innocent, you know.” Her large eyes were imploring.
    “But they’re going to charge him.”
    Charlotte turned from him slightly and he could see her shoulders shaking. Only when she sniffed did he realize that she was crying.
    “C’mon,” said Daniel, feeling almost protective of her. “Shall we tell him together? He needs you to be strong right now.” Daniel was not sure why he said that—he kept a distance from his clients—but part of him kept on remembering being a young boy in trouble, with a mother who was unable to protect him.
    Charlotte was still shaking, but Daniel watched her straighten her shoulders and take a deep breath. Her rib cage became visible through the V of her sweater. She turned and smiled at him, the skin around her eyes still wet with tears.
    “How old are you?” she said, her long nails on Daniel’s forearm suddenly.
    “Thirty-five.”
    “You look younger. I’m not trying to flatter you, but I thought you were in your twenties still. You look good; I wondered if you were old enough for this . . . to know your stuff, I mean.”
    Daniel laughed and shrugged his shoulders. He looked at his feet. When he looked up he saw that her cigarette was getting damp. Warm raindrops clung to the stoic, lacquered curls of her hair.
    “I like a man who looks after himself.” She wrinkled her nose at the rain. “So they charge him and then what?” She sucked hard on her cigarette and her cheeks hollowed. Her words were harsh but Daniel could still see her