Stop it! Think of something else.
But I couldn't. Jude and his words were poison, seeping into every part of me. Something else Jude said kept spinning in my head like a hated song I couldn't get out of my mind.
Erotica-exotica.
Is that why Callum turned against me and ended up hating me? Because he reckoned that's how I thought of him? Surely he knew better? Is that how everyone else regarded me and him though? Erotica-exotica.
I wrote it down all over the first clean page that I came to in my notebook. Erotica-exotica. I wrote the words upside down, sideways on, slanted writing, underlined, capitals – over and over.
Erotica-exotica . . .
And then the words started to drip from my pen without me even thinking about it.
I close my eyes, you kiss me,
Your touch brings me no shame.
I hold on tight, you move within
As I call out your name.
I breathe you in, you hold me
Like you'll never let me go.
I look into your burning eyes
And feel our loving grow.
But it's just a fantasy,
A trick of the light.
Can you hear what I'm saying?
We take these dreams,
Pretend they're real
And give no name to the game we're playing.
I'm the lover in your hand,
Trickling through like so much sand.
You 're forbidden fruit,
I watch you fall,
You're two words that describe it all –
Erotica-exotica.
But whatever else I'd been about to write went straight out of my head when something on the TV captured my attention. Jude was being led through the gate out of prison to be surrounded immediately by a mob of journalists. I shivered. I turned up the TV volume, waiting to hear what Jude would say. There were so many journalists around him that it was difficult for the security guards on either side of him to lead him forward to the security van which was supposed to take him to court. Even now I couldn't help shaking as I watched Jude being jostled by the riot of reporters around him. Jude's face was the face of true evil, and just seeing it on the TV made me shudder. After all the things he'd told me in the prison, I felt like I'd never be clean again. He scared me. No, he petrified me.
'Jude, how're you feeling?'
'Jude, are you guilty?'
'Would you like to make a statement, Jude?'
He pulled away from the prison guard, who was trying to get him to move forward, and turned to face the horde of journalists pushing TV cameras and microphones in his face.
'Is this going out live?' he asked.
'Yes.'
My heart began to thump painfully in my chest. This was it. What would Jude do now?
'I'd just like to say one thing,' Jude began. 'I didn't kill Cara Imega. As God is my witness, I'm completely innocent. Yes, I did know her – she was a good friend – but Persephone Hadley, the daughter of Kamal Hadley, knows I didn't kill Cara. Yes, I was at Cara's house on the night in question, but then Sephy and a friend of hers came to call for me and Cara was alive when Sephy and I left Cara's house. Me and Sephy were together until well into the early hours of the morning – so I couldn't've done it.' Jude turned from the journalists before him to look directly into the TV camera. It was like he was looking directly at me with only the glass of the TV screen separating us. 'Sephy, why won't you come forward and tell the authorities the truth? I can't believe you'd let me hang for something I didn't do.'
I felt sick, gut-wrenchingly sick. What acting. Jude lied so convincingly, with just the right amount of angry bewilderment as to persuade anyone watching that he was telling the absolute truth. And who was this fictitious friend I was supposed to have turned up with? Why invent someone else to complicate matters?
'What did you and Sephy do when you left Cara Imega's house?'
Jude sighed. 'We walked and talked – mostly about my brother, Callum. We'd both decided to put the past behind us and fight to have his name cleared posthumously. He shouldn't've been hanged. You Crosses seem determined to wipe out my entire family.'
'Is Persephone Hadley your alibi, Jude?'
'Yes, I guess she is.' Jude spoke into the bank of microphones around him as he was pulled forward by one of the guards, 'I wish she wasn't because she hasn't come forward. But Sephy knows I didn't do this. I couldn't kill anyone.'
'Why d'you think she hasn't come forward?'
Jude sighed deeply again. He had the sighing act down pat. 'I honestly don't know. The only thing I can think of is that she's covering up for her friend, who we left behind at Cara's house. But I can't believe she'd let me swing for something she knows I didn't do.'
It was like my mind was closing in on itself, shutting down. I could see, hear and breathe – all the basics – but that was it. Jude's guard started pulling him forward, more urgently this time.
'Jude, d'you know who did kill Cara?'
Jude pulled away from his guard to turn and face the journalists again. 'Yes, I do. It was the man Sephy brought to Cara's house. His name's Andrew Dorn. He was left in Cara's house after me and Sephy left. He asked Cara if he could make a phone call because the battery in his mobile was dead. Cara was more than happy to let him use her phone, so Sephy and I left him to it. Andrew Dorn is the one who should be behind bars, not me.'
'You're convinced it was him?'
'I know it was him. Sephy already told me that Andrew Dorn works undercover for her father Kamal Hadley, but I've only just learned that Andrew Dorn is not just a member of the Liberation Militia but also one of its leaders. He's obviously some kind of double agent but I have no idea why he killed Cara. Maybe she overheard something she shouldn't whilst he was on the phone? All I know is, he did it, not me.'
I gasped – and I wasn't the only one. Camera flashes were going off so fast they looked like fireworks. I felt like a juggernaut had just flattened me. How had Jude learned about Andrew Dorn working for my father? I groaned as I realized. I'd told Callum after . . . after I escaped from him and the others in the L.M. when they kidnapped me. Callum must've told his brother before he died. And in one deft move, Jude had signed Andrew Dorn's death warrant. Andrew would have nowhere left to hide after this. He was as good as dead already. He'd be of no further use to the Secret Services, in fact he could be a major embarrassment. And the Liberation Militia would execute him for sure for betraying them. Jude had not only managed to wriggle off the hook and put Andrew on it, but he'd handled it so I looked like a coward and a betrayer myself. Jude was slicker than olive oil on ice. He'd set up both Andrew and me without even breaking a sweat.
'Whichever way you look at it, Andrew Dorn is a traitor and a murderer,' Jude continued. 'I don't know whether he's working for the L.M. and betraying the government, or vice versa. But I do know he's the one who killed Cara. The authorities must know he's the one who did it, so they must be covering up for him because he's their spy in the L.M. But I won't let them hang me for something I didn't do. Not without a fight—'
Jude was bundled into a security van and the doors slammed firmly behind him. The TV journalist turned to face the camera, still looking stunned, her microphone in her hand.
'There you have it,' she began. 'Jude McGregor's sensational statement about the death of Cara Imega. He categorically denies murder and has protested his innocence by giving us the name of the alleged real murderer. No doubt the police will be trying to find this man Andrew Dorn just as quickly as possible. This has been an astonishing—'
I pressed the button on the remote control to switch off the TV. I sat in the roaring silence as my heart thundered inside me. The sound of my fear was deafening. My mouth began to fill with cool, thin bile. I jumped up and rushed to the toilet, only just in time to vomit up what felt like everything I'd eaten in the last week. As I washed my mouth and hands, myriad thoughts crashed and smashed their way through my head. I'd deny it. I'd deny
everything. But then I thought of the three newspapers and the radio station I'd contacted. I'd been recorded and taped saying pretty much what Jude had just said, even if none of them had used the story.
But I had no doubt that that was all about to change.
With my help, Cara Imega's murder was going to go unpunished.
With my help, Cara Imega's murderer was going to get away with it.
With my help, Meggie McGregor wasn't going to lose her son.
With my help, Andrew Dorn was a marked man. He'd be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.
My debt to Meggie was repaid in full. Because of me, Callum had died. Because of me, Jude was going to live.
I looked down at my hands, palms up, fingers splayed. But it wasn't water dripping down into them. My hands were awash with blood.
BLUE
Waiting
Watching
Secrets
Cold Blood, Old Blood
Tasteless
Peaceful Seas
Cold Fish
Ice
Tasteless
Whispers
Foetal Position
Fire
Blue Aquamarine Purple Navy
Icy
Dying
THE DAILY SHOUTER
www.dailyshouter.news.id Friday 10th September
ANDREW
DORN IS
DEAD
BY MINERVA HADLEY
Andrew Dorn, the man accused by Jude McGregor of the murder of Cara Imega, was found dead yesterday afternoon. In an ironic twist he was found with a single bullet wound to the back of his head in Turncoat Street off the A404 in Archwell.
A police spokesman said, 'This is a classic style of execution as carried out by the Liberation Militia. We in the police will leave no stone unturned in our efforts to track down the killer of Andrew Dorn and bring him or her to justice.'
In an exclusive interview, Kamal Hadley told me, 'Jude McGregor may not have pulled the trigger, but he's the one responsible for Andrew Dorn's death. The man never stood a chance once Jude denounced him as working for the government. And the worst thing of all is, Jude will get away with it. We can't touch him for this.'
Jude McGregor, who was originally arrested for the murder of Cara Imega, had the murder charge against him dropped due to 'lack of evidence'. The case against him fell apart when Persephone Hadley sensationally provided Jude with an alibi for the night of Cara Imega's death. Persephone Hadley is currently residing with Jude's mother in Meadowview. Jude was not given his freedom, however, as he is still being held on the charge of belonging to the Liberation Militia, which carries a maximum penalty of two years in prison. A police spokesman said (continued on page 4)
fifty-nine. Jude
Happy days are here again! I'm no longer charged with murdering . . . that Cross woman. The case against me has fallen apart like a snot-filled tissue. Crossmas has come early this year. And Luke, a fellow Liberation Militia inmate, has told me that I'm being welcomed back into the open arms of the L.M.
I feel like I've been invited back home. And it's great.
They're not letting me out of prison though. They couldn't dig up enough evidence to get me on the charge of kidnapping Sephy, either, but they didn't give up. They've now got me for belonging to the L.M. which carries an automatic sentence of two years in jail. I have no doubt that I'll be found guilty of that one. They're desperate to get me for something. But with good behaviour, I'll be out in six to eight months. Even the prospect of spending the next few months in prison can't stop me smiling. I bought the Daily Shouter this morning and the headline has had me grinning so hard all day that my lips are beginning to ache.
Andrew Dorn is dead.
Things couldn't've worked out better. One down, only Sephy and her daughter to go. And the only dead fly in my potato and leek soup is the fact that Sephy is living with my mum. I still can't believe that. I didn't know till I saw Sephy and my mum on the TV. Still, all this publicity should guarantee that she has to move on. She'll have no friends after this – on either side. Her fellow Crosses will blame her for giving an alibi to a nought accused of the murder of a Cross. They'll say she's betrayed one of her own. And noughts will hate her for not coming forward as my alibi sooner, when she had the chance. In fact, if she hadn't given a newspaper and a radio interview before I told the press my story, I doubt if she'd've said another word about it. I think she'd've denied it all if she could've – but she was too late. Thank God. I watched on the TV in prison as the newspapers and TV cameras camped on my mum's doorstep, desperate for an interview after my revelations, but Sephy never said a word. She didn't corroborate or deny my story. But then she didn't have to. Her previous interviews had done the job for her. And although she never actually mentioned Andrew Dorn in any of the interviews she gave before my heartbreaking tale of injustice was broadcast, it didn't matter. The press kept asking her about Andrew Dorn. As far as they and everyone else was concerned, Sephy knew him, had left him at Cara's house and had then kept quiet after Cara's death to cover it up. She was guilty by association. Not that any of the reporters got very far with Sephy. Every question thrown at her was met with a stony silence. A telling, damning silence.
A silence which brought a grin to my lips and joy to my heart. I've got you, Sephy. And this is just the start. I've got you.
I hope you're proud of me, Callum.
I did it all for you.
Andrew Dorn has paid for betraying us. And no matter where Sephy goes now she'll be alone and despised by everyone she meets. And best of all, I'll still have my vengeance against her when I come out. I couldn't've asked for a better outcome.
And although it's not enough, it sure is close.
sixty. Sephy
'D'you like this one, Rose?'
'Yyang yyang!' Rose told me.
'I quite agree,' I smiled, putting the orange sleepsuit back on the rack. Orange was not Rose's colour. It didn't suit her, but it was the only colour that didn't.
We were out shopping for new clothes for Rose because she was putting on weight like nobody's business. It was the first time in a long time that Rose and I had been out together with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company. And after everything that'd happened recently, I didn't want to be around anyone else. I didn't have that right. I'd re-enter the world when the photo of Cara Imega that'd been in the papers stopped dancing before my eyes. When the memory of how I'd helped her murderer get away with it stopped slashing at my mind and haunting my dreams, then and only then would I be ready to rejoin the human race. But in the meantime I had to carry on for Rose's sake. I didn't have that much money but I had enough to buy a couple of things. When I used to have money, I never noticed the price of anything. Now I studied the price of everything. And I couldn't remember the last time I'd bought myself any clothes. Not that I was ever into that kind of stuff, but it would've been lovely to have had the choice financially. I kissed Rose's forehead before placing her back in the baby carrier I had strapped around my body. I put her facing forwards so she could give me her opinion of the clothes I was selecting for her. Ensuring the straps around us both were secure and that Rose was comfy, I picked up another sleepsuit set which caught my eye. I kissed Rose on the top of her head. I couldn't help it. Maybe I'd get the hang of this motherhood lark yet. Maybe. When I stopped feeling so wretched and worthless.
'How about these, Rose? They're lovely, don't you think?' This set was so pretty. There was a vivid red sleep-suit with blue flowers, a yellow one with red flowers and a dark-blue one with yellow flowers.
'Yyangga!' Rose gurgled.
'You've got good taste, sweet-pea,' I told her.
'You're Persephone Hadley, aren't you?'
At the sound of my name, I spun round – and then instantly wished I hadn't.
'It is you, isn't it?' said the middle-aged woman behind me.
And if looks could kill, I'd've been cold on the floor with a chalk outline around my body
.
'Thanks to you, that murderer Jude McGregor is going to get away with killing one of us,' the woman hissed at me. 'Not that you care – blanker-lover.'
I put the sleepsuit back on the rack and tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm and swung me round. Others were beginning to gather round now. My face had been all over the newspapers over the last few days, but I really hadn't expected to be identified. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see that others were beginning to recognize me. One hand stole protectively around Rose. I didn't say a word. What was there to say?
'That's her . . .'
'That's the one
'Kamal Hadley's daughter . . .'
'Is that Callum McGregor's baby? You know, the terrorist they hanged . . ?'
And more. And worse. And on and on.
'My husband is a policeman,' the woman who'd started all this told me. 'He says everyone knows Jude McGregor killed that girl. But thanks to your lies muddying the waters, no way could they get a conviction now.'
The evidence was all circumstantial, otherwise both Jude and I would be in court by now. The police had no conclusive evidence, no blood, no DNA, just fingerprints. But I only thought that. I didn't say it.
'D'you really hate your own kind so much?' a Cross man with his Cross girlfriend asked me.
'I feel sorry for that child,' said another, pointing at Rose. 'With a mother like you, she doesn't stand a chance.'
And more. And worse. And on and on.
I started to walk but there was no safe, clear direction. They were all around me.
'Excuse me, please.' I tried to move past the police officer's wife but she wouldn't move.
If I hadn't had my daughter with me, I'd've made her move. But then, if I hadn't had my daughter with me, they would've aimed more than barbed words at my body. I pushed past her, and this time, reluctantly, she let me pass.
'Blanker-lover!'