The Balance of Guilt by Simon Hall Page B

liable to make a sudden decision that their relationship was over. Not like …
    Dan stopped the thought before it grew. He would see her soon enough, when he rejoined the investigation.
    You going to write this report then?’ came the sullen voice of Loud. ‘Or just stand there daydreaming?’
    ‘I was thinking about how to put it together,’ Dan replied, not altogether convincingly.
    They started the edit. As he was tired and struggling to concentrate it would be best to keep the broadcast simple. In the live scene set, Dan would stand in front of the Minster’s façade and talk about the aftermath of the attack, the great building reopening in a show of defiance. Then the studio would cut to his report. Finally he would sum up by talking about the police continuing to question a man in connection with radicalising John Tanton, but also that they were following other lines of investigation.
    He began the report with the graffiti on the Mosque, wrote about how the bombing had heightened racial tensions, and also mentioned the attack on the Muslim man. He had been fortunate and escaped with only cuts and bruises. They used the clip of the Imam, talking about Islam being a religion of peace and denouncing the attack.
    After that Dan used the pictures of the BPP demonstration and some of Kindle’s interview, when he spoke of disagreeing with people breaking the law, but understanding their frustrations. He’d gone through it with Lizzie who agreed the party had to be given their say. Wessex Tonight would get complaints, but that was the nature of being a news broadcaster in a democracy.
    The Minster’s bells struck one. Dan sat on a bench in the easy autumn sunshine and gave himself a few minutes to unwind. It had been a busy but relatively smooth morning. He wondered what the afternoon would bring. Life inevitably moved fast on a big story.
    His mobile rang. Alison Tanton’s number was flashing on the display.
    ‘Hello, Dan.’ A gulp, then another. ‘This will have to be a quick call. I’m at the hospital, hoping to see John. They haven’t let me yet. He’s been badly injured and there are lots of police here, guarding him.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Alison. For you, and all that’s gone on.’
    A quick rush of breath, then a tumble of words. ‘I knew he was interested in Islam and talking about becoming a Muslim, but I thought it was just a phase. He didn’t show any signs of … well …’
    Her voice broke. ‘Look, you were very kind, coming along to the Prize Day and giving out the awards. John went on about it for weeks afterwards. I would like to talk to you about what’s happened, but can it wait a few days? I hardly know what I’m doing with myself at the moment.’
    ‘Yes, of course. Alison, one more thing – all the other reporters will be wanting to talk to you, and …’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ she interrupted. ‘I won’t be talking to them. I’ll give you a ring, or call me within a day or two.’
    Dan thanked her and hung up. He sat, staring at the Minster. Her voice sounded so fragile. He remembered the Prize Day, how she was wearing what was obviously a new suit, and her pride at John being given an award for the efforts he had made that year. He was a quiet lad, a little overweight, with a trusting face, painfully nervous as he walked on to the old wooden stage. His school tie was an inch askew and his hand trembling and sweaty to shake.
    Dan shook his head, got up and walked back to the satellite truck. It was time to get ready for the live broadcast. His mobile rang again. Adam.
    The detective’s voice was sharp and urgent. The familiar sound of trouble.
    ‘You back in Exeter?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good. I need to see you this afternoon. As soon as possible. We’ve got real problems.’

Chapter Eight
    A DAM’S TERSE INSISTENCE WAS sufficient to override the need for a decent lunch. Dan grabbed an unappetising-looking roll from a café, along with a piece of cake to bridge the taste