There is a murmur in the gallery.
“Order, please, silence,” calls the court officer. My gaze is riveted on Jack. I’m willing him not to go there—but he has to. Or why else would he be here right now?
“Can you explain to Your Honor why you went to Jarrawarra Bay?”
“Sabrina hired me.”
“Can you describe to Your Honor what Sabrina Cresswell-Smith hired you to do for her?”
“She wanted surveillance on her husband and the mark. She paid well for it. I’d left the navy with a dishonorable discharge and needed cash badly. She—Sabrina—felt her husband was up to something, and she said she was worried. So I followed them and reported on their movements when they were outside of the house.”
“What vehicle did you use to follow them?”
“A brown Toyota Corolla.”
More murmurs in the gallery.
“Order! Quiet in the court, please!”
The sketch artist turns a fresh page, her gaze flicking back and forth between Jack and me and her sketch. Reporters scribble furiously. I can almost feel the news vans hovering outside waiting with their big satellite dishes on top. Heat presses into the room.
“Did Mrs. Cresswell-Smith ever ask you to do anything other than surveillance?”
“She asked me to deliver a package to the Pug and Whistler marked for ‘Ellie Cresswell-Smith.’”
“Why?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“Did you also follow a woman named Bodie Rabinovitch?”
He clears his throat. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Sabrina had been told that Martin was having an affair, but he seemed to be hiding it well. I’d previously only followed Martin when he was with Ellie. Or I’d follow Ellie when she was alone. When I followed Bodie Rabinovitch to Sydney, I captured both of them on camera.”
“How did Mrs. Cresswell-Smith react when you gave her these photos?”
He looks down for a moment. I see the tension in his neck. “Angry,” he says quietly.
“How angry?”
“Objection,” calls Lorrington as he surges to his feet. “Calls for speculation.”
“I’ll rephrase. What did Mrs. Cresswell-Smith ask you to do next?”
Silence.
“Mr. Barker,” says Judge Parr, “you must answer the question.”
He inhales. “She . . . she asked me to drown Martin.”
A reporter hurries out the door. The mouth of one of the jurors drops open.
I feel my body, my face, going hot.
“How?” asks Konikova.
“She came up with a plan. She recalled Martin from Sydney urgently—he told his mistress it was his wife calling. Sabrina informed him that Ellie was onto him and they had to take care of Ellie in a hurry and pull the plug on the scam and clear the hell out of Australia.”
“What did she mean by ‘take care of Ellie’?”
“Kill her.”
“How?”
“Sabrina told Martin the best way would be to make it look as though Martin and Ellie had gone out on the Abracadabra and had an accident at sea. That way, when the boat didn’t return, a marine search and rescue effort would be launched, but no suspicions of murder would be raised. The ‘Cresswell-Smiths’ would simply be a couple who’d vanished at sea. Martin was to acquire a truck and trailer in a hurry and drive the rig from Sydney to Agnes Basin. Sabrina would pick him up from Agnes Basin, then drop him at Moruya Airport, where he’d collect his ute and drive home to the Bonny River house as though he’d flown home early. She said there would be no way to coerce Ellie onto that boat, so Martin was to drug Ellie—give her enough Hypnodorm and GHB to potentially kill her. I was to then meet him in the dark morning in his garage, which he’d leave open—she told Martin I was an old friend who’d do anything on the quiet for the right price. She’d already given me the ball cap and jacket and wig outside the Puggo. She’d taken them from the garage. The plan was to leave the house very early and people would see what they thought they were seeing. Ellie and Martin Cresswell-Smith heading out to sea. As you can see, I am of slight stature. With the wig I could pass as Ellie from a distance.”
“Where did the wig come from?”
“Sabrina bought it in Moruya. When we went out on the boat, Martin was to log on with marine rescue. Sabrina told Martin the plan was then for me to cover the boat name and registration markings with false ones, throw Ellie’s jacket and cap into the water near the FAD, and then we’d head up to the Agnes inlet mouth. Once in the inlet, we’d dock and load the Quinnie onto a trailer. Sabrina told Martin she would bring Ellie up to Agnes in the Corolla. She’d either be dead or comatose. We’d sink her body into a channel, where the muddies would finish her off. Then Martin and I would drive the boat and trailer back up to Sydney, where he’d get on a plane and leave the country ahead of Sabrina. I’d carry on north and hide the boat and trailer. Everyone would be searching for the lost couple at sea while Sabrina drove to Melbourne and boarded her flight to join Martin.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it?”
He sips water. “No. That was the story for Martin. Her plan was to double-cross him. I was to drug Martin out at sea and dispose of him overboard, far offshore. Along with Ellie’s jacket and cap. I was then to slap on the false rego, then go up Agnes inlet and continue with the plan to drive north and dispose of the boat and trailer. And while we went out to sea, Sabrina would transfer all the funds from their joint offshore account—Martin had already moved it all in there. That’s what Ellie had seen when she got into his office. And then Sabrina was going to drive to Melbourne and leave the country before it was even known that the Abracadabra was missing.”
“But that didn’t work, either, did it?”
“No.”
“What went wrong, Mr. Barker?”
Silence.
“Mr. Barker?” says Judge Parr.
He rubs his brow. “As soon as Martin and I were seen going out—me dressed as Ellie—she accessed the online account
