I SEE YOU an unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist PATRICIA MACDONALD (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📖

is innocent of this crime,’ said Hannah, although the expression in her fine, gray eyes was anything but sanguine. ‘This trial is going to show that.’

‘We have no further comment,’ said Adam stiffly.

Chanel ignored him, concentrating on the defendant’s mother. ‘This has got to be the hardest thing in the world, to watch your child subjected to all these terrible accusations,’ she suggested.

Hannah nodded. ‘It’s very difficult,’ she said. ‘But I believe that justice will prevail.’

‘How do you keep going?’ Chanel asked. ‘I don’t know if I could do it.’

‘Our granddaughter needs us,’ said Hannah simply. ‘We have to be strong for her.’

‘How is Lisa’s daughter holding up?’ Chanel asked gently.

‘She’s a child. She doesn’t understand too much about what is happening. But she misses her mother.’

Adam Wickes raised his hand, palm up. ‘All right. That’s enough questions.’ He put a hand under his wife’s elbow and began to guide her past Chanel and into the courthouse.

Hannah nodded and pressed her lips together as Adam steered her away.

Chanel turned back to the camera. ‘There is a lot more of this trial still to go. We’ll be here, keeping you apprised of every development. This is Chanel Ali Jackson, reporting from the courthouse in Nashville, as the prosecution in the murder trial of Lisa Wickes get ready to call their first witness.’

‘God, I just hate this,’ Adam said.

‘I know. I feel like a sideshow attraction in the circus. Let’s get in our seats,’ Hannah said.

Other reporters called out to them as they made their way through the security checkpoint and into the courtroom, but Hannah held tight to Adam’s hand and did not look around. They took their seats behind the empty defense table, and waited as the room filled up with court personnel, journalists and onlookers. The door to the right of the judge’s bench opened, and two burly court officers came through, flanking Lisa, towering over her. Lisa’s curly hair was clean and shiny and she wore it loose so that it formed a dark halo around her pale, bespectacled face. She was wearing the modest navy and white dress which Marjorie Fox had suggested Hannah buy for her, low-heeled pumps and handcuffs on her wrists and ankles. Hannah was struck anew by the sight of her daughter here in the court, dressed as if ready for Easter, and in chains. It was almost more than Hannah could stand. She let out a little cry, and Adam put his arm around her and squeezed her, as if to give her strength.

Lisa nodded at them as she was led to her seat at the defense table, and gave them a thumbs up with her shackled hands. Hannah smiled back at her hopefully. Adam nodded gravely at his daughter. Marjorie Fox, who had already arrived, stood up to greet her client. Across the aisle, the prosecution team was conferring.

‘All rise,’ said the bailiff.

Everyone stood as the judge entered and sat down. ‘Bring the jury back in,’ he instructed the bailiff. The courtroom was respectfully quiet, if a little restive, as they waited for the jury to appear. The door beside the bench finally opened again, and the twelve jurors came in and took their seats. Judge Endicott, a gray-haired, balding man with half-glasses, waited until they were all seated, welcomed them back and reminded them to listen carefully, take notes and not discuss the case until it was time to deliberate.

‘Very well. Let’s proceed. Mr Castor, will you call your first witness.’

The D.A. called the first officer at the grisly scene at Troy Petty’s bungalow after the explosion. ‘Part of the front of the house and the roof blew off. The victim’s body was mangled and charred.’

‘How did the explosion occur?’

‘As far as we can tell, gas was escaping from the propane stove, and there were lit candles in the house. When the flame from the candles ignited the gas, it caused an explosion like a bomb going off.’

The spectators in the courtroom murmured.

‘No one else was in the house at the time?’

‘We did not find any other victims,’ said the officer.

Marjorie rose to question the witness. ‘Could someone have left the gas on accidentally so that it filled the room?’

‘Sure you could,’ said the officer. ‘The pilot light can go out. It could happen. But the only way you wouldn’t notice the smell was if you were not in the house at the time. Or unconscious. Otherwise you would have smelled it.’

Next, D.A. Castor called the coroner, Dr James Evans, to the stand. He was an old man, a no-nonsense type with wire-rimmed glasses, and a well-tailored but ancient suit. The coroner took his oath, recited his credentials and proceeded to describe, in sickening, clinical detail, the corpse of Troy Petty which he had examined.

‘In your opinion,’ asked the D.A., ‘what was the cause of death?’

‘The deceased died of injuries sustained in an explosion.’

‘Were there any injuries on the body not related to the explosion?’ asked the D.A.

‘The victim had a head wound which he may have incurred before the explosion. He appeared to have been struck on the back of his head by a blunt object. He was, most likely, unconscious at the time of the explosion.’

‘Was there a weapon found in the house?’

‘Yes,’ said the coroner. ‘A brass desk lamp with a heavy base was found near the body. There was blood and tissue on the base, which belonged to the deceased.’

Hannah’s shoulders hunched; she closed her eyes and shook her head slightly at the vivid image created by the plainspoken coroner. The testimony was damning. At the same time, it did not prove that Lisa had done anything. How could anyone think that Lisa could ever have hit a man as burly as Troy Petty with that much force? Adam gripped her chilly fingers