Trespass (P.I. Johnson Carmichael Series - Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

resting on the tiled wall at the tap end of the bath.
    How easy it would be just to stay here , she thought.
    She could feel her body starting to strain as it searched for oxygen.
    I could just slip away now .
    A burning sensation was growing in her chest.
    It would be so much easier .
    Her body started to tense as survival instinct to kicked in. She could feel her body start to fight back, urging her to find oxygen. One word entered her mind and she stopped fighting.
    Lauren .
    She shot upright and sucked in deep lungful’s of air. As much as she wanted to end her life at that moment, the thought of leaving Lauren alone and helpless in the world, was all she needed to keep living. She started to cry; an uncontrollable sob that lasted until she could cry no more.
    Why me ?
    When the temperature of the water had cooled considerably, she climbed out of the tub and once again surveyed the damage in the mirror. The cuts on her neck and arms didn’t look as bad as earlier as the water had washed away the blood. She ached and her head was full of unanswered questions, but she knew there was no time to feel sorry for herself. Lauren could wake again at any moment and if she saw the state of the living room and her mother’s injuries, she would be very upset.
    Beth threw the soiled nightie away in the bin in the kitchen and put her previous evening’s clothes on. She then grabbed a bottle of bleach and began to scrub at the blood stains on the living room carpet. A little after five a.m. she returned to the bedroom and climbed in next to Lauren, hugging her close as she lay there watching her daughter sleep peacefully.
    She knew she was lucky to be alive, and, although the pain of what she had experienced would remain with her for the rest of her life, she was grateful that she would be able to watch her daughter grow up. She had been given a second chance and would not allow one evil man to spoil it. While lying in the bed, listening to Lauren breathing, she vowed that she would never speak of the evening’s events to anyone. She hoped that if she didn’t talk about it, she wouldn’t think about it. If only she had known how wrong she was.
     

MAY 1993
     

6
     
     
    TUESDAY
     
    The road outside the court was packed with journalists of all varieties: television reporters, newspaper leads and even the BBC Worldservice . They all had the same intention: get an interview with one of the victims. It had been rumoured that Caterina Jurdentaag would be in court for the whole trial, determined to see justice served against him . There was still no word whether the accused’s first victim, Sarah Hanridge, would show. Although chronologically she had been attacked before the other two victims, she had only come forward, and reluctantly at that, after watching the Crimewatch reconstruction video some fourteen months earlier.
    The press would have to wait to speak with Nathan Green, the accused, until after the case had finished, and only if he was cleared of all charges. Green was on remand and would be led up to the court from the cells beneath when it was time. The trial was set to start at ten a.m. that morning, but with all the furore that the case had inevitably caused, ten thirty was more realistic.
    Green was born on Christmas Day 1967, a fact that had earned him the nickname The Grinch Rapist in some of the tabloids, after the notorious Dr Seuss character renowned for spoiling the festive season. None of Green’s attacks had occurred during the period but the nickname had remained nonetheless. Green was the youngest son of Tony and Marie Green and had a brother, Matthew who had been born in 1964. Both Matthew and Tony were expected to be in court as well, but Marie had passed away several years earlier, and had fortunately never known of her son’s alleged vicious crimes.
    Green was set to stand trial for sexual assaults on two women, Caterina and Sarah, and for the rape and murder of a third victim, Patricia Tropaz. The