My heart thumped in my throat. “What was it?”
“Hold on. I’ll get to that,” Dan said as cool as a cucumber. “It’s quite a lot of information we’re dealing with, so I’m trying to go through it step by step.”
“Sure, sure,” I said feeling jumpy and took another gulp.
“With regard to the evidence, Oliver first looked at the forensic traces that were available, such as DNA. Then he analysed the phone records and came to the mind-puzzling conclusion that it always concerned the same people.”
I looked at him, feeling dazed. “What do you mean by ‘the same people’?”
Dan browsed through the pack of papers until he came to Oliver’s overview. “Let’s start with the forensic evidence: it was always analysed in the lab by the Dutch Forensic Institute, the DFI. Interestingly enough, in all four cases, the DNA that was found at the crime scene was handled by the same person at the DFI.”
I looked at the overview and indeed noticed the name ‘Joe de Smet, senior scientist,’ written down, something Sandra had already pointed out over the phone weeks ago.
Dan took the last sip of his wine. I refilled both of our glasses and placed the bottle back in the silver wine cooler.
“What’s so peculiar about the same scientist analysing the DNA?” I asked. “Maybe there’s simply one person assigned per law firm or per region, or whatever.”
Dan looked into my eyes. “It’s possible, but because the name had been underscored by Oliver and thus apparently caught his attention, I went through the four internal reports with a fine tooth comb. It transpires that in all four cases, at first, a match had been established between the DNA trace they’d found at the crime scene and the DNA of the suspect. However, Mason & McGant impugned the results and requested a re-analysis of the evidence by Joe de Smet – in all four cases the DNA turned out to only be a partial match on the second test.”
I couldn’t follow. “What does that mean legally?”
“It means that based on the first test results, the suspect would have almost certainly been convicted. Only after a second analysis was carried out did the forensic evidence prove too weak to bring the case to a close and all four suspects were exonerated.”
I shoved the wine glass away, leaned back and interlaced my fingers behind my head, while reflecting on this information. “Is it a regular occurrence, to impugn forensic results and request a reanalysis?”
Dan shrugged. “It can happen, but it’s extremely rare. As a general rule, it’s done when there’s reason to question the method of analysis or if mistakes have been made in the lab. But in that case, the test has usually already been re-conducted before the results are even released to us by the DFI.”
“So just to recap: four cases with re-analysis of DNA, all performed by the same senior scientist at the DFI? And as a result of this, all four suspects were acquitted of their charges, allowing them to walk free?”
Dan grimaced. “Exactly.”
I felt a flush of excitement – this was actually going somewhere. “So this Joe de Smet chap at the DFI was supposedly bribed by Mason & McGant to tamper with the evidence?”
“It’s a possibility we have to consider,” Dan said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Look, we cannot yet rule out that this scientist made a few screw-ups and that we’re simply dealing with a man not fit for his job – a square peg in a round hole, if you like. But it’s improbable and …” There was a brief pause. “To find out more, we may be forced pay him a visit.”
My eyebrows rose in shock. “Dan, stop. We have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into if we open Pandora’s box. You just listed a string of mega crooks. Those are all heavy hitters, if I understood you correctly. It feels like we’re standing on the edge of a very slippery slope.”
Something came to my mind. I rifled through the papers Sandra and I had copied at Mason & McGant, until I reached the overview of figures and the arrow pointing to the DFI, which had earlier raised my suspicions of bribery and forgery. I tapped the overview with my finger, looked at Dan and lifted my chin.
“I knew it,” Dan exclaimed and smacked his hands on the table. “My mind has been going in circles trying to figure out the exact role Mason & McGant played in all of this. But what if … suppose those clients pay extortionate rates to Mason & McGant, who in turn ensure the forensic evidence is falsified by the DFI?
I nodded and complemented his words. “The younger lawyers, those who do the donkey work, are kept under the thumb by compromising footage to prohibit them from spilling the beans. All the while the partners are lining their pockets, without getting their hands dirty.”
Our eyes locked and for a moment there was a click – we make a good team.
I was afraid that those piercing, big brown eyes of his would make my head start spinning again and so I looked away. “Do you think all lawyers at Mason & McGant are in the know?”
Dan shook his head. “I doubt it. If you ask me, I think they made the incriminating images of those paralegals as a means of pressure, to wield an influence only in case a lawyer smells trouble and starts asking questions. Otherwise, I’d have received word of it long ago.”
“This whole situation makes my flesh crawl,” I whispered. But there was a somewhat comforting aspect in all of this too – perhaps Oliver hadn’t been hiding this secret from me for all these years and had only recently found out about it. “Do you think someone may have caught wind of Oliver’s plans to expose the abuses?”
Dan nodded. “I imagine Oliver was intending to build the case fully before taking the evidence to the police, but the more he probed, the deeper he became caught up in a web of deceit and corruption. Someone must have found out what he was doing. We still can’t exclude the possibility that Oliver died as a result of an accident, but it seems increasingly unlikely.” Dan spoke softly. “Oliver knew too much and the stakes were too high for Mason & McGant. In all likelihood, he perished while searching for answers and uncovering the truth.”
I stared into the distance. “So he probably was murdered after all,” I mumbled. I needed a moment to process this bitter conclusion.
Dan gently caressed my face. “Are you alright?”
I was startled by this unforeseen, intimate gesture and flinched away. “I’m not sure. It’s a lot to take in.”
Dan retracted his hand. “I understand,” he said and remained silent for a moment, running his fingers up and down the stem of his wine glass.
I pulled myself together and looked at Dan. “So what now?”
“We don’t have the full picture yet. Since Oliver also recorded the name of a telephone company, they must also play a role in this, but I haven’t worked out what that could be.”
I pointed to the file on the right side of the table and opened my mouth to speak and at that very moment, Dan reached out for his wineglass, causing our hands to collide in the air. He took hold of my hand and gently enclosed it with both of his, turning me towards him and sending a rush of passion through me. His gaze shifted to meet mine, and we shared a look so intense I felt like it was boring deep into my soul. I swallowed audibly and felt the heat of a deep blush on my cheeks.
“You have the most beautiful blue eyes,” Dan whispered and I felt my legs weaken. He gently pulled my hand towards him, his face now a mere centimetres away from mine, and brushed a lock of hair back from my face. “Dan,” I breathed, but his lips swallowed up my words. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and felt our bodies fold against each other as I leaned into his warm embrace, closing my eyes. The sound of the soft music in the background slowly faded away. He kissed me on the neck, his teeth nipping gently on my skin, subsiding the whirling flood of thoughts in my mind.
Suddenly I heard Tim coughing through the baby monitor and I instantly came to my senses.
I abruptly pulled away from Dan. “I’m sorry,” I said, avoiding his eyes, and ran a hand through my ruffled hair to smooth it back into shape. “I can’t do this. Not now. No
t after our first date and with everything going on here. It’s all too complicated,” I said, indicating the chaos of papers on the dining table.
‘It’s all right. I get it,” he said softly and gave me an uplifting smile. “We’re not in any rush,” he added, and my heart leaped.
I stifled a grin and tried to focus my attention on the documents in front of us. “Maybe we should call it a day. I’d like to let it all sink in.”
“Sounds good,” Dan said, knocking back the remainder of his wine in one go. “Do you mind if I take all of these papers with me?”
“No, go ahead. So where are we going from here?”
“I want to dig into the role of the telephone company over the weekend. Bella will return from her mother’s tomorrow afternoon, so until then I’ll have ample opportunity to do so.”
“What about the DFI?”
“How would you feel about paying them a visit?” he asked, gauging my reaction. “They may recognise me since I’ve been in contact with DFI staff in the past – it would put us at risk.”
I inhaled sharply and let the air escape from my lungs with puckered lips. “How exactly do you see that working?”
Dan thought for a while. “What if you were to pose as a lawyer working at Mason & McGant, requesting a re-analysis?”
“I can’t, Dan,” I countered, feeling blind sighted. “That’s insane!” I cried.
“I concede it would be unusual,” he said.
I stood up and placed the wine glass on the counter, letting my thoughts go over his suggestion. Then I walked back to Dan and responded to his proposal. “I’m going to sleep on it, okay?”
He narrowed his eyes and seemed to sense it was best to refrain from pushing me on the matter. “Of course.” Dan collected all the papers and slid them into his briefcase. Then he brought his hand to my upper arm and stroked it tenderly. “Look after yourself. I’ll call you after the weekend.”
I nodded and followed him down the hall.
He slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, said goodbye and walked briskly towards his bike.
I peered quickly down the deserted street, shut the door behind him, and locked it with the deadbolt. Then I swivelled, rested my back against the steel frame and felt the coldness creep over my body. I brought my hands to my head and felt this bizarre sensation of excitement rush through me. “Oh my God, what’s happening to me?” I said out loud.
31
“Hi, sweetie,” Lindsey said, wrapping her arms around me.
I hugged her tightly and realised how terribly I’d missed her lately. I was relieved that we’d buried the hatchet.
She crouched down next to Tim and placed her hands on his cheeks. “Hello munchkin.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at me. “Tim is starting to look more and more like his father.”
I looked at my son and felt a warm feeling growing inside. “I know, he’s almost the spitting image of him, right? It feels ever so good to keep a little piece of Oliver with me this way. Tim, will you give Lindsey a hug?” I asked him, and he flung himself into her arms.
She rose and squeezed my arm. “You look good, Jen.”
“Thanks,” I responded, feeling grateful we were starting with a clean slate.
Tim was pulling at my sleeve. “Yes darling. We’re going to the playground.”
Lindsay tucked her arm through mine as we wound our way towards the playground in the middle of the Vondelpark, surrounded by the excited chatter from birds roosting in the flowering trees, while Tim sped ahead of us on his push-bike. I made sure to keep him within my sight at all times. Ever since Dan had called me saying that he also suspected something illicit was going on at Mason & McGant, I’d been on guard. Upon arrival at the sandpit, Tim jumped off his vehicle, flung it aside and immediately picked up one of the spades. “Gentle with that bike, Tim,” I said admonishingly. “We don’t want to break it now do we?”
Lindsey and I sat down on the stone verge enclosing the sandpit, which was filled with young children messing about. She yawned loudly.
“Late one last night?” I asked kindly as I draped Tim’s and my summer coat over a railing.
“Not exactly,” Lindsey answered. “Some idiot in my street felt the need to start drilling through the walls at ten in the morning on a Saturday,” she said with an utterly serious face.
I flashed her a scornful look.
She got the message. “Oh, right. I forgot. You think ten o’clock is late,” she said and started laughing.
I laughed too and then changed the subject. “I truly appreciate you wanting to meet up with us in a playground.” I rolled my eyes. “These weekends with Tim by myself are loooong.”
“I’m sure they are,” she said, her eyes fixed on something in the distance and for a moment I thought I saw a sad look flash across her face. I realised I’d been preoccupied with myself for the last few weeks. “So how have you been doing? Have you had any interesting dates lately?” I asked, clasping my hands in excitement.
Lindsey’s eyes strayed to the sandpit, where Tim had started building a sandcastle with another child. A cool breeze blew in, pushing a string of clouds across the sun and it suddenly felt five degrees cooler.
“I’m back with Paul again.”
It took me moment to process the information. “But, er …” I struggled for words. “Wasn’t Paul the guy who turned out to be married?” I blurted out with a snort, but instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was inconsiderate of me,” I backpedalled. But I was naturally wondering what had made Lindsey decide to get back involved with him.
“He’s left his wife. So now we’re seeing each other again,” she said curtly and shrugged, avoiding my gaze.
Surely Lindsey didn’t fall for this nonsense? They all left their wives, only to fall back into their warm, forgiving arms again after a few weeks. This was completely out of character – Lindsey was the impersonation of a self-confident not-to-be-messed-with woman. “Is he really going to divorce his wife?” I asked, with a hint of misgivings in my voice.
Lindsey shrugged. “They’re on a break,” she said, sidestepping the question. “He needs time to figure out what he wants.” She loosened her hair and her long tresses fell in a wave, over her shoulder.
“I see,” I said. As an awkward silence fell I closed my eyes, practising self-restraint and biting my tongue. I was grappling with a feeling of ambivalence – to support my friend on the one hand whilst knowing exactly how it feels to be ‘that other person’, the betrayed wife.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea?” I asked, breaking the silence with trepidation.
She shrugged again. “A good idea, a good idea,” she repeated crabbily. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t want to think about it that much. Being with him feels good for now and that suffices.” She smoothed her hair over her shoulder with one hand.
“But, sweetie,” I said, turning to her and laying a hand on her thigh. “You deserve someone who isn’t playing around and messing with your feelings.”
She shook her head and kept her gaze averted. “He’s not playing around.”
“I mean a guy who is really committed to you. Not a guy who cheats on his wife and embarks on an affair while on a break from her. You deserve someone who puts you on a pedestal and wants to be involved in a relationship devoid of mistrust and self-interest, an honest man who is eager to spend his life with you and …” I paused for a moment and then tentatively added, “maybe start a family together.”
“Who says I want all that?” Lindsey said disgruntled, now looking me in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not projecting, Jennifer? And by the way, you just said it’s really tough to take care of a child over the weekend, remember?”
I turned away and drew in a sharp breath.
“You’ve heard about the research that shows people are less satisfied with their lives after having children, right?” Lindsey added with a hint of scorn in her voice.
I ignored her rhetorical question and r
aised my eyebrows. “Maybe I am projecting.”
Tim brought me a cake made of sand and I took an imaginary bite. “Yummy … Don’t go too far, pumpkin,” I warned as he trotted back.
It remained silent for a moment before Lindsey spoke again. “Not everyone finds a responsible guy like Oliver who wants to settle down and live the quiet life while raising a family. Besides, who knows … maybe I’m not the girl for the whole white-picket-fence life. Perhaps I’m the type longing for a different kind of relationship,” she said, pulling her long, finely woven cardigan tightly around her. “I’m freezing. I’ll go get us something to drink. What can I get you?”
I was trying to make out how to respond to her musings, but decided to let the subject rest. “How about we have glass of wine? I heard the Pinot Grigio is really good here.” Some alcohol might ease the tense atmosphere, I thought to myself. “It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world,” I quipped.
Lindsey frowned. “Not for me, thank you. I just finished breakfast.”
I tried to laugh away her disapproval. “Make it a cappuccino then.”
Lindsey nodded towards the sandpit. “Apple juice for Tim?”
“Thanks,” I replied, watching her as she strolled off towards the entrance of the restaurant, her high heels clattering on the cobblestone path and her long coat billowing in the wind.
While she was gone, I thought about how I could address the delicate matter of her deserving someone better than this Paul guy, but ultimately decided to refrain – I was afraid it would lead to another argument.
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