‘He wanted a friend,’ Karen replied, stress ripping from her vocal chords.
‘Then why was he sending naked photographs to her and offering to buy her beer?’ Rachel lifted the newspaper and pointed towards the evidence.
‘They lured him into that!’
‘And then attacked one of the group members with a hammer?’
‘He needed to get away!’ Karen protested. Rachel took off her glasses and folded them away into a white plastic case. She unfolded her legs and shuffled towards the edge of the couch.
‘Ms Irvine. I’m touched that you came to see me today. I really am. And I understand that you want to fight for your son’s innocence. But there is no case here to be had.’
‘Miss McCann.’
‘Please, call me Rachel.’
‘Rachel, it’s fine if you don’t want to pick this up. Really it is. I’ll understand. You’re the third law firm I’ve approached this week. They all said the same as you. I hoped with you being new in town that you might take the case, or as a woman you might understand where I’m coming from.’
‘If the others won’t take it, I’m sure I’m no use either,’ Rachel explained. ‘And as for me being a woman… my gender does not in any way influence my stance on the law.’
‘Do you have children, Rachel?’ asked Karen.
‘I do. A ten-year-old girl.’
‘Wow, you must have had her young.’
‘I’d just left college.’ Rachel smiled and a red pigmentation shadowed her cheeks.
‘Then you’ll know what it’s like to do anything for your children. And defend them to the end.’
‘I do,’ Rachel replied and her smile retracted. ‘But I also know what it’s like trying to keep her safe on the internet from people like your son.’
Karen’s face evolved from a puppy-eyed plea to a disgruntled dragon. She snatched back the newspaper from Rachel’s grip, forcing it to tear, and placed it into her bag. Rachel felt no guilt; Karen’s son, whether she liked it or not, was a predator.
‘I see. Very well then, I’ll go.’ She stood up and made her way to the door. As she opened it, she turned around to the lawyer. ‘Listen, Rachel, I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. I’d feel the same if I was you. But do me one favour. Do a quick online search for Charlie Irvine. You’ll find him soon enough. The video is on The Predator Hunter’s page on Facebook. Watch it, please. If you do nothing else for me. Just watch it.’
The door closed and Rachel laid her head back on the couch. Karen Irvine had exhausted her. She looked at the clock towards the lost time she could have spent on her only case. She picked up her textbook and recommenced her reading.
The case in question was a complex one. She was representing a local restaurant owner; he was suing a customer who’d left a brutal review on TripAdvisor. The customer had accused the restaurant of food poisoning, while her client assured her that during the evening, the customer had made a fuss as she attempted to gain a free meal and free drinks before ultimately ripping up her bill as they left, despite the service in the owner’s eyes being above adequate. The review had been picked up and published in a local free newspaper and damaged the restaurant’s reputation, leading to them losing bookings and ultimately closing its doors the month prior. She scratched her head as she read the mounds of arguments. In a world where anyone can be a critic and free speech is a constant dilemma, she wondered how far she could really take the case, but she would damn well try.
Lunchtime called and she took herself off to a local café in the centre of the village. She sat amongst the chaos of the lunchtime rush as local businessmen queued for a quick sandwich and a coffee. It was a small independent café which also ran as a deli. Weaved baskets filled with preserves and artisan handcrafts piled up beside the counter, whilst the scent of cinnamon brought a stark reminder that Christmas was nearing. Chalk boards showcasing the café’s specials lined red walls, and a selection of cream cakes and jam sponges sat enticingly beneath glass stands.
She took a seat by the window, enjoying her latte and a cheese omelette. The café offered free Wi-Fi but she enjoyed being switched off from the world, if only for an hour, while she people-watched. A frail pensioner slowly meandered to the post-office, a butcher ran out wielding a knife as a hooded-teenager ran off with a packet of his finest steak, and a Pakistani lady stood by a local convenience store, handing out a copy of The Big Issue. Rachel sat in wonder as to how this poor young girl had managed to get lost within the system and whether her family knew she was out here begging for money. She reached into her purse to see if she had any change for when she passed her later on her way back to the office, but she’d just dropped her remaining coins in the waitress’s tip-jar.
A green anorak distracted her curiosity; the same blend as the one in her office earlier in the morning. It was Karen, walking by with her head down, barely lifting it to cross the road. She looked broken. Sadness followed her like a rain cloud. As she aimlessly wandered, people would pass, nudging their friends’ elbows and nodding their heads towards the infamous woman with the sinister son.
Rachel tilted her head and sighed. She took out her mobile phone and switched on the Wi-Fi, breaking her lunchtime rule. After a quick scan on
