The Redeemed (38 page)

Lennox Strong
appeared unsettled as he sat in the chair. The self-assured smile seemed to
require a conscious effort. He lacked the inner glow shared by his two
colleagues. Jenny decided she must hit him hard and fast.

'Mr Strong,
would you say that in the last six months of her life you were closer to Eva
Donaldson than anyone else?'

'I suppose
that's right,' he said quietly.

'You must have
spent many hours together working on your book.'

'We did.'

'Where did you
do that, as a matter of interest?'

'We'd find a
spare office in the church, or the cafe maybe.'

'Just the two of
you?'

'Yes,' Strong
said, as if he were confident he had nothing to be ashamed of.

'What kind of
things did you talk about aside from the book?'

He shrugged.
'Whatever came up. All sorts of things.'

'And she told
you she was thinking of entering the ministry, becoming a pastor like you.'

'Oh, yeah. We
talked about that a lot.'

Jenny felt the
heat of Annabelle Stern's predatory eyes.

'And you
discussed her doubts about that as well as her ambition?'

'Certainly,'
Strong said, with a hint of caution now.

Jenny glanced
down at her notes, stealing a moment to calm herself.

'Did she bring
other people's problems to you also - people in the church?'

'She did.'

'Did she ever
talk to you about Alan Jacobs?'

'I'm not at
liberty to discuss confidences,' Strong said.

'I'm not asking
you to breach any confidences, Mr Strong. I'm simply asking whether she
mentioned him.'

Lennox Strong
looked at the lawyers, then at his feet.

'I'd like an
answer, please, Mr Strong.'

'Yes, she
mentioned Mr Jacobs.'

'Thank you. And
Freddy Reardon, too?'

'I think so.'

'Did they cause
her a
lot
of problems?'

It was
Sullivan's voice that shot back at her. 'Ma'am, we appear to be drifting a long
way off the point again.'

'I decide what's
relevant in my own court, Mr Sullivan. Sit down.'

'Ma'am
—
'

'No, Mr
Sullivan. Sit.'

Sullivan
unwillingly gave way.

'You were about
to say . . .'

'They each had
issues,' Strong said carefully, 'but they weren't alone in that.'

'But you must
have known these two particularly well, Mr Strong. When Freddy Reardon was an
inpatient at the Conway Unit two years ago, you went there to speak.'

'I've been there
a few times, yes.'

'Was it Alan
Jacobs who arranged it?'

'No. It was an
idea that came up in the church - offering pastoral care to troubled kids. I
was one of those once.'

'You were in a
prison, not a psychiatric unit.'

'Often there's not
a lot of difference.'

'Did either
Freddy Reardon or Alan Jacobs cause Eva Donaldson problems, harass her in any
way?'

'No. She never
said anything about that.'

'Would she have
done?'

'I'm sure she
would.'

'Did she talk to
you about her money problems?'

There was a
pause as Lennox Strong wrestled with his conscience. 'She mentioned her worries
once or twice.'

'Did you know
she had a £15,000 legal bill?' 'No.'

'Or that she was
trying to sue an adult film company for royalties?'

'No, ma'am. Eva
never mentioned that.'

'Back in March,
did she tell you she was being harassed by someone?'

He shook his
head.

'So there was a
whole side to her life you knew nothing about?'

'I guess so . .
.'

'Does that
surprise you?'

'Yes,' he said,
quietly.

'Mr Strong, are
you telling the whole truth? You're a man who every week asks thousands of
people to trust him. I've seen you talk: you don't just tell people you've felt
the presence of God, you tell them you've been snatched from the jaws of
hell...
I find it very hard to believe that a lonely and troubled woman like Eva
Donaldson would have kept any secrets from you.'

Lennox Strong
sat very still. Annabelle Stern's piercing gaze bored into him. Jenny waited
for his answer, but none came. She let the silence stretch on. Five, then ten
seconds passed as the pastor searched deep inside himself.

The moment was
broken by the sound of the door opening at the back of the room. Andy Kerr
stepped in, flustered from his hurried journey from the Vale. Under his arm he
carried a leather document case.

Jenny said, 'Go
back to your seat for a moment, please, Mr Strong. Come forward, Dr Kerr.'

The lawyers
exchanged panicked whispers as Andy Kerr and Lennox Strong swapped places. It
was Fraser Knight who spoke for them.

'Ma'am, we've
had no notice of this witness.'

'We're at the
same disadvantage, Mr Knight. No more interruptions, please.' She turned to Dr
Kerr and reminded him that he too was still under oath. 'I understand you have
received test results that may be of interest to us.'

'Possibly,' Dr
Kerr said. He unzipped the document case and brought out several sheets of
paper from a file, some of which, Jenny could see, displayed photographs. 'I
was looking for a connection between two different corpses. They are those of
Alan Jacobs and Freddy Reardon, who I believe were associates of Miss
Donaldson.'

Anticipating
Sullivan's objection, Jenny cut him off. 'I'm sure the relevance will become
clear in a moment, Mr Sullivan. Be patient.'

Her rebuke drew
smiles from the jury.

Dr Kerr
continued: 'Mr Reardon had abrasions around his wrists typical of the kind
caused by handcuffs, or at least handcuffs the wearer has resisted in some way.
He had sought to disguise these injuries with some sort of concealer of the
type usually used to cover blemishes on the face. I took a sample of the
abraded skin and subjected it to microscopic examination.' He held up a
photograph taken through the lens of the microscope. 'I found two things:
minute flakes of lead-based gloss paint, cream or yellowish in colour, and
numerous strands of fibreglass typical of the kind found in roof insulation.'
He indicated several points on the photograph with his finger. 'What's the
relevance? Well, I'd say there's a strong chance Reardon was cuffed to
something - a railing or a pipe, perhaps - coated with this old gloss paint.
Where there's glass fibre insulation, particles like this will be floating in
the air, settling on the skin and being inhaled. Sure enough, there was
evidence of similar fibres in the boy's nasal passages. You'd expect the mucus
to clear them in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I'm sure he inhaled them
within a day or two of his death.'

Jenny looked
over at Lennox Strong. Joel Nelson was trying to say something to him, but he
wasn't listening. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clamped tight shut as
if he were battling an acute pain.

Dr Kerr
continued, 'I checked Alan Jacobs's nasal passages and found the same fibres,
only they were present in greater density, suggesting exposure in the hours
immediately preceding death.' He held up another highly magnified photograph.
'They are a similar length and width as those in Mr Reardon's body.' He put the
picture aside and lifted up two others. 'Lastly, I took samples from the mucus
membranes in Miss Donaldson's nasal passages. There was no evidence of glass
fibres in her nose, but from the sample

I took from high
up inside the sinus,' he nodded towards the photograph in his right hand,
'there was a significant concentration. That tells me she was exposed on several
occasions, but not in the days immediately preceding her death.' He turned to
Jenny. 'A more detailed examination of the airways would yield further detail,
but that's all I have at the moment.'

'Where would you
find these kinds of fibre?' Jenny asked.

'Either in a
roof space or somewhere where insulating fibre is being handled - in a building
undergoing refurbishment, perhaps.'

Jenny's mind
flooded with strange images: a place where Eva and Freddy and Jacobs had all
been, a place where Jacobs had been hours before his death to which Freddy
returned a week later,
handcuffed.

There was a
burst of activity on the lawyers' benches. Another assistant was dispatched
from the hall. Annabelle Stern and Sullivan were locked in frantic
consultation.

'Does anyone have
any questions?' Jenny said.

Sullivan shot to
his feet. 'Ma'am, we request an immediate adjournment to review this evidence
and appoint an independent expert.'

'You don't need
an adjournment to do that, Mr Sullivan. Thank you, Dr Kerr. Unless you have
anything more to add, you're free to go.'

Annabelle Stern
tugged on Sullivan's sleeve and whispered instructions in his ear.

'Could you come
back please, Mr Strong,' Jenny said.

Sullivan
interrupted again. 'Ma'am, I am instructed to inform you that an application is
currently being heard in the High Court to have these proceedings halted. I
request an adjournment pending the outcome.'

'And is this an
application made on behalf of your clients, Mr Sullivan?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'On what
grounds?'

'Ma'am you may not
wish the answer to that to be given in open court.'

So that's where
Ed Prince had disappeared to. How naive of her to think he would have trusted
anything to chance. He would be in court right now with the most expensive QC
he could buy, who would be persuading a judge that she was barely a notch off
certifiable and had spent a lifetime protecting her father, who, as chance
would have it, was currently under investigation for suspected child abuse and
perhaps even murder. Even if she had given Moreton the time of his life, she
doubted if he would have been able to stand in the way of the juggernaut that
was careering towards her now.

'If you get your
order, Mr Sullivan,' Jenny said icily, 'then, and only then, will this inquiry
be required to stop. Until that moment you will do nothing more to obstruct
it.' She turned to Lennox Strong. 'I'm waiting, Mr Strong.'

Sullivan refused
to give way. 'Mr Strong is not giving any more evidence.'

Jenny snapped.
'You're leaving my courtroom now, Mr Sullivan.' She gestured to Alison.
'Officer, see this man out.'

Alison looked up
in surprise, then made her way across the floor.

'Ma'am, my
clients are entitled to be represented,' Sullivan objected.

Ignoring him,
Jenny said, 'Mr Strong, you will return to the witness box or go to prison for
contempt. What is it to be?'

The young pastor
rose from his seat. Joel Nelson snatched at his wrist, but Strong shook him
off. 'Leave me alone, Joel.'

He strode
forwards, ignoring Sullivan, who hissed a warning to him as he passed. Annabelle
Stern had a phone pressed to each ear.

He sat squarely
in the witness chair and seemed to fix his stare on a point on the far distance
beyond the confines of the hall.

'I asked you
whether you had told the whole truth, Mr Strong. You have yet to answer.'

'No, ma'am, I
haven't,' Strong said, his words coming from the part of his conscience that
was winning the raging battle inside him. 'Some things happened in my church
that were nothing to do with me, or with Eva.'