Rhys pulls over.
Not gradually. He signals, checks the mirror, and pulls the car to the kerb with the controlled precision of a man who needs to not be driving right now.
He cuts the engine.
We sit in the sudden silence of a side street with the lawyer still on speaker and the word Mercer hanging in the air between us like something physical.
"Say that again," I say.
"Tasha Mercer," the lawyer repeats. "The statement was signed four days ago. She claims to have witnessed an incident between Rhys and the complainant at a private gathering approximately two years ago. The statement describes physical aggression in detail."
Four days ago.
Four days ago Tasha was sitting in her kitchen telling me she was on my side. Four days ago she was running searches on Petra Haynes
