Free Crying Out Loud by Cath Staincliffe

once the baby comes.’
    Abi looked amazing when she opened the door to us. She was tanned and her hair streaked from travelling in Thailand and India, and she wore some stretchy knit combination that hugged her huge belly.
    â€˜How are you feeling?’ I asked her. ‘You look great.’
    â€˜I’m good.’ She lifted Jamie out of the buggy. ‘Apart from the piles.’
    I groaned in sympathy.
    When Libby arrived, I outlined for her what I’d done so far and was honest with her about my uncertainty.
    â€˜So, you’re saying you can’t tell one way or the other?’ she asked me, her grey eyes piercing.
    â€˜If you pushed me, I’d say he’s more likely to be guilty than not. But if you take away the confession, I’ve no idea how strong the other evidence is. Partly because I don’t know exactly what they’ve got. We all know he was at the cottage, that he stole Charlie’s wallet and that there was blood on his footwear – but how secure is the forensic evidence that he used the knife? I’d have to be in the police to get that sort of information. They never found the weapon, did they? So it will be impossible to prove Damien used it, I think.’
    Libby sighed, irritated by the unsatisfactory nature of my report. ‘So that’s it. Well, what else could you do?’
    â€˜Try and see Damien’s lawyer, perhaps. They would know what evidence the CPS had. Though Chloe Beswick says they told her loud and clear that there are no grounds for an appeal. She’s asked me to talk to Damien again. It’s up to you,’ I told her. ‘You don’t need to decide now. He’s not going anywhere. Do you want to think about it?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ she said. Then she thought of something, leant forward with her hands on her knees. ‘What if you could talk to someone in the police?’
    â€˜That would help. Why?’
    â€˜It’s just – there was one of the detectives; he questioned me when I was a suspect.’ She gave a bitter laugh, still hurt at the treatment she received. ‘But after that he kept in touch, let me know where they were up to. He informed me when they arrested Damien Beswick and he told me when they had a confession. It was good of him. I didn’t have a family liaison officer as such but he did it anyway. He might see you.’
    â€˜What’s he called?’
    â€˜Geoff Sinclair – he’s based at Longsight. I did try him when the letter came, but he was off work.’
    â€˜I’ll try that, then?’ I said.
    â€˜Yes.’ She seemed happier at the prospect than she had at me giving up. She wanted to get to the bottom of things and not be left with any doubts or ambiguity.
    After she’d left I rang Greater Manchester Police and asked to be put through to Longsight; I was passed around a bit and was finally told that Detective Sinclair had retired.
    When I rang Libby, she was disappointed but asked me if I could try and contact him anyway. She knew he lived in New Mills, a village up in the peaks beyond Stockport.
    Luckily Sinclair had a BT phone line. That meant he was in the directory. With the plethora of telecoms providers, many subscribers are no longer listed. It isn’t impossible to find people on other networks – it just takes longer.
    He was home. He listened to my spiel about working on behalf of Libby Hill (I was sure that using her name would get me further than leaving it out) and I told him that both Libby and Heather Carter had received letters claiming Damien Beswick was innocent.
    â€˜Tell her to chuck it in the bin,’ he said, in a blunt Lancashire accent.
    â€˜She won’t do that, not yet anyway. Can I come and see you?’
    â€˜Why?’ He was guarded.
    â€˜Libby wants to be certain that the conviction was sound. If I knew some of the police evidence that supported his confession—’
    â€˜I don’t