Free Guilty Innocence by Maggie James Page B

inherited the family tendency to reddish hair, his being more light brown in shade, and cropped short. Probably late twenties. Overall, he appears a more relaxed, confident individual than Rachel. Mark watches as Shaun turns to his sister, putting an arm around her to give her a quick squeeze. She looks up at him, her smile fleeting, before glancing away again.
    Something about the dynamics of the Morgan family strikes Mark forcefully; a nuance he’s never noticed when watching them on television. Now, here in this field, with the three of them in front of him, he realises they always stand the same way. First Michelle, then Shaun on her left, with Rachel next to him.
    Not once has Rachel ever stood next to her mother.
    Now he thinks about it, Mark can’t remember the two of them even looking at each other, much less speaking.
    Michelle Morgan begins her speech. She’s piled on weight over the years, Mark thinks, but still squeezes herself into tight clothes; perhaps she’s a comfort eater like Natalie. The crow’s feet at the sides of her eyes gouge deeply into her face, as do the lines carved between her nose and mouth. Mark catches a glimpse of yellowing teeth. Probably a heavy smoker. Some of her premature ageing will be down to the cigarettes, he reckons, but he wonders with a guilty stab of conscience how much is down to her unresolved anger at him and Adam Campbell.
    ‘We are here today, as we have been every year since her death, to remember and mark the appalling murder of my daughter, Abigail Louise Morgan,’ Michelle says, the same as Mark remembers her doing in previous years. He can predict what will come next; her speech never changes much. After all, what can she say that’s new?
    ‘Fourteen years ago, my child was lured away from the garden of my house by her murderers, Joshua Barker and Adam Campbell. Two eleven-year-olds, young in years, but both imbued with an evil beyond their age,’ she says. ‘They took her to this spot and brutally murdered her for their own gratification. A senseless and inexplicable act.’ She recites the facts of the murder with steel shot through her expression; it’s not just her crow’s feet that are deepening, Mark thinks, but her hatred of her daughter’s killers as well.
    ‘They knew exactly what they were doing.’ Michelle Morgan’s voice hardens. Rachel shuffles her feet, and Shaun gives her shoulder another quick squeeze. ‘They served just ten years for the death of my daughter. Nothing will convince me that’s a fair punishment for what they did. They robbed Abigail of her life and they should have paid with spending the rest of theirs in jail. Imprisonment without hope of parole would have been a fitting retribution, not the leniency with which they have been treated.’
    Heads nod in the crowd around Mark, amid mutterings of assent. The effect on him of seeing Michelle Morgan in the flesh is powerful, compelling, and the guilt he’s always carried twists within him into agreement. At least where Adam Campbell is concerned. In his own case, he doesn’t consider himself able to judge, but he’s inclined to think Abby’s mother has a point. He’s guilty by association and by weakness of character, and both crimes deserve punishment beyond ten years’ detention and the loss of his mother.
    As Mark shifts his gaze away from Michelle, he spots the man he saw crossing the street earlier, staring at him. Their eyes lock into place for a few seconds, with Mark processing what he sees. The man is much taller than Mark, six feet four at least, stockier too; he’s similarly dressed in a dark-coloured jacket with the hood pulled around his face, giving no hint of the colour of his hair. Without warning, the iron hand squeezes Mark’s lungs again.
    He might have got it wrong, of course, and the man isn’t Adam Campbell; it’s a big stretch from an eleven-year-old boy to a twenty-five-year-old man. Puberty wreaks havoc on childhood looks, after all.