The Verdict
OLIVIA ISAAC-HENRY
Published by ONE MORE CHAPTER
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Olivia Isaac-Henry 2019
Cover Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover Photographs © Shutterstock.com
Olivia Isaac-Henry asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © August 2019; ISBN: 9780008317768
Version: 2019-07-19
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: 2017 – Central London
Chapter 2: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 3: 2017 – Central London
Chapter 4: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 5: 2017 – Central London
Chapter 6: 1994 – Archway, London
Chapter 7: 2017 – Archway, London
Chapter 8: 1995 – Archway, London
Chapter 9: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 10: 2017 – Archway, London
Chapter 11: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 12: 2017 – Archway, London
Chapter 13: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 14: 2017 – Archway, London
Chapter 15: 1995 – Archway, London
Chapter 16: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 17: 2017 – Archway, London
Chapter 18: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 19: 2017 – Maida Vale, London
Chapter 20: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 21: 2017 – Central London
Chapter 22: 2001 – Kingston upon Thames
Chapter 23: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 24: 2017 – Guildford Police Station
Chapter 25: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 26: 2017 – Guildford Police Station
Chapter 27: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 28: 2017 – Guildford Police Station
Chapter 29: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 30: 2017 – Guildford Police Station
Chapter 31: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 32: 2018 – Bronzefield
Chapter 33: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 34: 2018 – Bronzefield
Chapter 35: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 36: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 37: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 38: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 39: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 40: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 41: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 42: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 43: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 44: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 45: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 46: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 47: 1995 – Archway, London
Chapter 48: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 49: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 50: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 51: 2017 – Dulwich, London
Chapter 52: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 53: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 54: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 55: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 56: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 57: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 58: 2017 – Dulwich, London
Chapter 59: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 60: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 61: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 62: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 63: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 64: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 65: 2018 – Guildford Crown Court
Chapter 66: 1994 – Guildford
Chapter 67: 1995 – Flaxley, Worcestershire
Chapter 68: 2019 – Guildford
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Publisher
Stumbling down the hill, filthy and too exhausted to even lift the shovels dragging behind them, they looked up to see a red glow starting to stretch along the ridge above. Dawn was breaking.
‘Hurry up,’ he said.
At the bottom of the hill, she managed to haul herself over the stile, only to tumble down the slope on the other side and fall face down in the road, her fingernails bloodstained, her mouth and nose clogged with dirt. She could have fallen asleep there and then, not caring if she were seen.
A hand reached under her armpit and hauled her to her feet.
‘Keep moving.’
What was the point in moving or any attempt at concealment? He wouldn’t lie buried for ever. Someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week or next year, someone would find him.
It feels like centuries since I was young. I look around my office; Miranda is scrolling through Tinder while drinking a coffee. Her lithe body falls across a hard-backed wooden chair as if it were a hammock.
Paulo wears mustard-coloured jeans, his feet up on the desk, the soles of his boots splayed towards me. The urge to kick them off becomes so great, I have to look away.
‘Yeah, I know, yeah,’ he drones into his phone, too loud and irritating to tune out.
What right do they have to youth? They do not value it. They will waste it, as I did mine, and one day wake up, middle-aged, in an office full of people who believe them to be obsolete, an irrelevance. They will stare at the calendar and not believe the year – how did we reach 2017 so quickly? And then the day, Wednesday – how many hours until the weekend?