“I’m okay now,” she said, turning back to face him again a few moments later.
Jack decided to change the subject. “Are you coping okay financially?” He suspected she would be too proud to ask for help, even if she needed it.
“Things are tight,” she admitted, “but we get by.”
“I’m not trying to pry; I’m just concerned for you and April. If you need help with the…well, with the funeral arrangements and the like, then the State is duty bound to provide it…” Her upraised hand silenced him for a second time.
“Mr Tyler, I know you mean well and I thank you, truly I do, but I’m not a pauper and I have a small amount of money put by. It’s not much, and it was intended to pay for my own funeral in due course…” She smiled wanly at this point, pondering the bitter irony of what she was about to say. “…I thought that it would save my poor Tracey the worry of trying to find enough money to bury me when the time came.” Inevitably, more tears were forming in Rita’s eyes. Since the unexpected knock on her door early Monday morning, when the two baby-faced constables, their helmets tucked respectfully under their arms, had awkwardly delivered the death message, Rita had desperately tried to conceal her pain and grief from April. She had quickly mastered the art of crying silently, and each time the tears returned she would turn her head away, or use a newspaper to shield her face from April’s view. And such simple things would set her off: this morning, when she heard a song that Tracey was fond of; last night, when she had cooked April one of Tracey’s favourite meals; every single time Rita walked into Tracey’s bedroom and saw her clothes hanging up, knowing that her fashion-conscious daughter would never wear the garments again.
“Look, Rita. You should really hang on to that money,” Jack was saying. “You’ve got to think of April. She might need it one day. Why don’t we sit down later, just you and me, and work out together exactly what needs to be done?”
She nodded, grudgingly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it, at least.”
Tyler’s heart went out to this poor woman and her grandchild. They were in a terrible predicament, through no fault of their own, and he would do everything in his power to help them. “We’ll talk more, later – once the inquest is adjourned,” he said, gently placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she sat down, next to Kelly.
“Thank you, Jack Tyler,” she whispered, placing her hand over his for the briefest of moments.
April was visibly relieved to have her beloved grandmother back by her side, where the youngster firmly believed she belonged. She leaned over and subjected the old woman to a crushing embrace. Rita lovingly ran the arthritic fingers of her left hand through the child’s shiny hair. At the same time, her other hand sought the familiar reassurance of the golden crucifix she wore around her neck. Please, God, give me the strength to get through today, she prayed.
Standing a few yards away, Jack watched the touching scene out of the corner of his eye. He felt woefully inadequate and desperately wished there was a way to comfort them in their time of need.
Kelly Flowers, as if somehow sensing the inner turmoil his thoughts were causing him, made her way over. For a few long moments, she stood there, trying to think of a tactful way to voice her concern without giving offence.
As he inhaled the subtle fragrance of her perfume, Tyler was acutely aware of her presence. He could actually feel the heat being radiated from her body. Kelly leaned closer to speak, her hand brushing against his as she moved. The sudden physical contact between them was electric, and it sent a small jolt right through him.
“You know, as much as you might want to, you can’t heal all the wrongs in the world on your own,” she pointed out. The words, quietly spoken, seemed very poignant to him as he turned to study her. Their faces were suddenly only inches apart, but she didn’t back away, he noted with surprise and pleasure. He eyed her with mock suspicion. “Have you been talking to DI Dillon?” The words she’d just spoken could easily have come straight from the mouth of his overprotective partner.
Kelly smiled. “I don’t need to talk to Tony Dillon to see that.”
Before they could say anything more, the courtroom door opened and a slim, elderly man in the robes of an usher shuffled out and invited them into the courtroom.
Jack walked back over to Rita and placed a hand on her arm. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied in a weak voice that lacked conviction.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right next to you all the time. If you need to go outside just tell me. Don’t stay in there if it’s too much for you to bear.” He squeezed her arm gently. “Ready?”
She nodded uncertainly, allowing him to guide her through the wooden doors into the courtroom. As they sat down a small cluster of reporters, all keen to secure a seat in the limited space available, filed into the court. Tyler’s face darkened as he caught sight of Terri Miller, dressed to kill in a stylish blue business suit, which had a lighter blue herringbone cheque running through it, and a garish red blouse. Holland had been right; the press coverage would continue to grow and grow until the killer was ultimately caught or another major news story eclipsed it.
Jack thought about the two TV crews opposite the building, waiting to film the grieving family when it emerged later in the day. He made a mental note to take Rita and the kid out of the courthouse via the back exit if there was
