Convicted

Chapter 14

"Connie, the police haven't found anything, you're not going to." It was the next week and Jacob was almost ready to be released back into general, as his wounds had healed up nicely and he was in very little pain anymore. Connie had been by his side every day but she hadn't told him what she'd been trying to do until today, when she knew he was better and more able to handle it. She also wanted to put it off, because she knew he wouldn't have approved of her wearing herself out.

"The police aren't bloody well looking," Connie grumbled, squeezing his hand tightly. "We're both innocent, so the scumbag is still out there, and at the same time, you're in here." She hated seeing him this way: so defeated, and without hope. But she knew that it was impossible to remain in high spirits when you're behind bars for no fault of your own.

"Baby, we've got to face up to the reality," he whispered, wrapping both his hands around hers. "I might be in here for a long time, and it wouldn't be fair to ask you to wait." Connie's mouth fell open, and if she didn't feel so sorry for him, she might have even slapped him.

"Don't you dare even think like that," Connie insisted. "Sam was my ex. I was arrested first and you only ended up in here to save my ass. You looked after my daughter when she was beyond upset, and you didn't sign up for any of that. I'm here for you muscles, and I'm never giving up on you."

"Connie you wouldn't be giving up on me. There's a difference in giving up on me and going to live your life."

Those words resonated in her ears as she left. Jacob had really given up all hope and there was nothing she could do to help him. She'd tried everything. She'd exhausted every potential lead in the case and they had taken her nowhere, just round and round in circles. She had discovered that Emma had an alibi which checked out in every single possible way - she was at a party with her friends, and her friends confirmed it, as did the bartender, and also one of the people who lived on the street said they saw Emma there around that time. The ungrateful patients that Connie had thought may have been suspects were on the other side of the world, and had been at the time of the murder too. There was no way that Connie could solve this, just as Jacob told her. The chances were that he was going to be charged, with hardly any evidence against him. It wasn't fair.

To put her mind off things, Connie decided she'd clean up Grace's room, ready for her arrival the following week. She had her music on, and was trying to lift her spirits as she tidied up the shelves and dusted all the surfaces, polishing where she could. She came to organising Grace's bookcase, and realised that there was something behind the books that was stopping it going in properly. As she pulled them all out, she found a mobile phone. Shaking her head and presuming it was just one that Grace had kept for a friend, Connie picked it up and placed it on the shelf above, tidying up the book cases. It was only when she turned around and wiped her nose briefly that she realised that her fingers suddenly smelt like nail polish remover. Connie turned back to the phone, gently leaning down over the shelf and inhaling softly. The smell was definitely coming from there.

Anxiously, Connie picked up the phone. It was a cheap phone; it had a flip over screen, and 9 buttons for a keypad. It was one of those phones that you could pick up from a chain store for a couple of pounds, but they weren't supposed to be sold to under 16s. As Connie opened the phone, she was asked to enter a passcode. She entered 1234, 1708 (Grace's Birthday) and even 0702 (which was Grace's initials if the letters were converted to numbers). After three incorrect guesses, Connie was asked if she'd like a hint. Oh, the security of old phones. The hint was simply HUGO.

Hugo? What did Hugo have to do with any of this? His birthday was May 25th, so Connie put that in, not surprised to be met with another 'incorrect password' message. Then she looked at the keypad and noticed that the letters were all represented by numbers, and so after using her common sense and getting into the phone, Connie had a quick look through. She went to text messages first, and whilst she felt terrible for snooping, she knew that this could be important. Unsurprisingly, the only person that had been texted on this phone was Hugo.

H: I heard about your dad. What did you do?

That was the last text on the phone. As Connie went right back to the very first text, she noticed that this phone had been given to Hugo from his older sister and they used it as a joke to communicate in class. A couple of the messages made Connie laugh.

H: Mrs Green just took my phone off me.. I wasn't even using that one! Love having this phone too.

G: I know it's great. I feel like a spy with two phones!

The two of them mainly used it to chat casually, and whilst Connie wondered where the money came from to top up the phone, she wasn't too concerned.

H: Hey Grace are you okay? Heard you got a bit upset in Miss Wright's class. Are you still angry with your dad?

G: He's horrible. I wish I never had to see him again.

H: Why, what's happened?

G: I just found out he used to hurt mum. She was talking about it with Jacob.

H: What?! Is your mum alright?

G: Yeah. I heard her say she doesn't hate Sam but she's obviously still shook up if she's talking about it. I just hate him so much. If he died tomorrow it would be too late.

Connie was absolutely gobsmacked. She didn't know that Grace hated her dad that much that she felt that she had to call him 'Sam' as opposed to dad, and she was appalled that she would be so mean as to say she wished him dead. She had no idea that Grace had found out about how Sam used to treat her, but Connie never felt it was necessary to tell her. She wasn't traumatised by it - he just had a harsh attitude and was a little controlling, but had only physically harmed her once, and he'd apologised profusely after it.

H: You should talk to your mum about it Grace. She might be able to help you.

There was no response from Grace after that, but there were several more messages from Hugo. There had been one sent almost every day.

H: Didn't see you at school today, everything okay?

H: I'm asking mum if I can come over to visit you after school one day - we can go out for ice cream and have a chat.

H: Grace I heard about what happened to Sam. I know you said you hated him, but you didn't do it, right?

Connie felt sick. The phone was covered in nail polish remover, which had been used as the accelerant for the fire. She didn't think her daughter could do this, did she? Surely she couldn't. What sort of mother suspected her daughter of something this large? Connie brushed it aside - there was an alternate explanation which she would speak to Grace about as soon as she got back. Connie left the phone out on the side and proceeded to clean up the bedroom, trying to forget about the messages. They were only kids - Connie knew that kids said hurtful things sometimes that they didn't mean - and she was sure that Grace would have just been lashing out as she didn't know how else to handle it.

The final thing Connie did was change the bed. She took off the sheet, and again, a horrible smell of nail polish remover came up like an explosion of pungent mist. As she removed the sheet completely, and lifted up the mattress, Connie was absolutely horrified.

Sitting there, on the top of the bed, was the empty bottle of nail polish remover, but beside it was what made Connie's stomach really turn. A lighter. Her daughter had the lighter.