A Chance Encounter Rae Shaw (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📖

Things progressed with his new job, cases came and went, and they were mostly resolved without recourse to prosecutions. If Mark assumed Jackson had forgotten about him, he was mistaken. At nine o’clock he was summoned for an impromptu meeting regarding an acquisition that Jackson was negotiating.

‘Mark, come in.’ Jackson waved Mark over the threshold into his grandiose office. There were others there, seated around the conference table, eyeing Mark with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Departments were prone to rivalry, a bit like football teams – they all enjoyed the game but their side had to be the best. He wasn’t familiar with this bunch of lawyers.

Jackson introduced the team managing the negotiations. ‘We’ve entered due diligence with a smallish size company. There are discrepancies with their projections. It looks like they’re spinning their financials incorrectly. Come and take a look. I want to know if these are irregularities or whether they’re engaging in opportunistic accounting policies.’

Mark glanced over the latest financial statements, information provided by the other company. ‘I can’t tell from this. I’d need further information. It does look dubious to have these kinds of projections in the current economic climate.’

‘Put aside what you’re doing at the moment, Mark, I want you to concentrate on this. I'm tired of being screwed around by companies who think they can milk me for a high purchase price and then cover up their failings.’ Jackson returned to his desk.

Mark took the remark as a dismissal and he followed the others out of the room.

‘Wait, Mark,’ Jackson said. ‘Shut the door.’

‘Sir.’ Mark fingered his jacket buttons. Beneath the cool breeze of the air-conditioning, he was perspiring like a squeezed sponge.

‘Please sit.’ Jackson pointed at the nearest chair. ‘I’ve been in contact with Luke. He's been helping Sophia with your father’s appeal case.’

Mark's heart skipped forward a few beats. He had never discussed his father with Jackson or Hettie. However, he shouldn't be surprised; Jackson had eyes and ears everywhere. The introductions at the ball had been more contrived than he’d realised.

‘I passed the documents to Sophia and she’s been looking them over,’ Mark said.

Jackson nodded. What else did he know about? Haydocks reared its demonic head again. ‘More than looking them over, Mark. She and Luke have found the witness that the previous appeal failed to identify. They’re going to see him.’

Words briefly escaped Mark. How had they managed where others had failed? ‘Wow, that is good news.’ He ran his trembling fingers through his hair. ‘The last solicitor up in Manchester couldn’t locate him.’

‘Luke can be persuasive.’ Jackson grinned. Luke shared his brother’s tenacity, as well as appearance. ‘I hope this works out for you and your father.’

‘So do I. I’m planning to visit him later in the month. It’s tough seeing him behind bars.’

‘I can imagine,’ Jackson said dryly. ‘Your sister. Do you keep her in the loop?’

‘Not really. We've had a little falling out.’

‘Fix it, Mark. She's young. You're supposed to be the man in her life.’

Jackson's rebuke hit below the belt. Mark jerked, recoiling. Sometimes, his boss behaved like his mentor, which Mark appreciated as long as it remained in a limited capacity and preferably related to work. When it came to personal relationships, he wasn’t so sure he wanted it. Jackson was in his mid-thirties – probably – and he had an old school approach to handling women. Julianna would struggle with the authoritarian type. Having met Hettie, heard her speak with great affection for her husband, Mark knew outward appearances weren't always a good measure of a man.

Regardless of Jackson’s decent qualities, it was somewhat troubling being in debt to the Haynes family. If Jackson knew Mark had spied on his former boss, perhaps he wouldn't be so magnanimous.

‘I’ll reimburse them, Luke and Sophia,’ said Mark. ‘I'm grateful for their support. My father has always maintained his innocence.’

‘You support your father because he’s your dad,’ Jackson said, gruffly, as if cross with Mark.

Mark, a bead of cold sweat on his brow, stared in disbelief at the man gesturing toward the door. The meeting was over; Jackson was reading something else on his desk. Mark hurried away.

What kept Mark loyal to his father was pragmatism and not sentiment; Bill wasn’t a murderer, but he wasn’t entirely innocent either. He had met somebody, things hadn't gone well and bam, knife in the chest. Nothing premeditated, which the judge pointed out in his summing up, but the jury had rejected the plea of self-defence in favour of murder, not even manslaughter. The witness, a mate, or perhaps a bystander who had gone along, was real because he was consistently mentioned by people who knew people, and so on. But there was no name or description. A man more than likely. Deidre insisted that because of this one person there was some other story to be told.

Perhaps this man had done it and stitched Bill up. Unlikely. Bill would have named and blamed the other guy and, in any case, there was no physical evidence to support the theory another person was present at the crime scene. Then, what if this man had seen it happen, and for some reason refused to cooperate by hiding evidence that backed up Bill's side of things? Criminals fell out. It was plausible. But Bill's refusal to acknowledge the witness to Mark and any of the solicitors appointed to look after his case was the stumbling block to proving his innocence. He hadn’t implicated anyone else and in every interview had claimed he’d acted alone.

It riled Mark to the point of fury that his father protected criminals. Where was family loyalty? Why couldn't he just plead guilty, do the time and then come home to Deidre? A new man. Chastised. Penitent.

Tick-tock, tick-tock. Mark had to focus on work. Waiting for news over the next few