He nodded again. ‘She’d have been really happy today. She loved doing things like this.’

Kelly leant on the fence next to him and gazed up at the hills where she loved to run too.

‘Lunch is nearly ready.’ She touched his back tenderly and walked back inside.

Under juvenile court, with no previous, and mitigating circumstances, a judge had ruled that Jordan had to wear a tag for six months. Liam Brook was facing trial for manslaughter, and had been released on bail.

Kelly missed Will. The investigation into Ormond hadn’t unearthed any links back to serving personnel, only code names. But Will had decided to take a secondment to Lyon, France, to work with Interpol. Before he’d gone, she’d given him an old VHS tape. It was the only time she’d ever taken physical evidence for her own purposes. But she was sure. When you worked with someone every day for three years, and you knew the way they moved, the way they stared and the way they sat still, it never left you. She knew that one of the boys on the tape was him. That was the hold that Ormond had had over him.

Ted announced that they were almost ready. The table groaned under the weight of the food. Kelly sat down in front of the fire. She didn’t much fancy eating, and even the glass of red she cradled wasn’t going down well. She knew she could easily be forgiven for being a little off, given that last year, Wendy had gone into a seizure on this very sofa and never left hospital.

But she knew that wasn’t the whole story.

This morning, she’d gone to find Johnny on the terrace, her face as white as the snow covering the distant mountains, and given him a small plastic stick. On it, inside a window, was a little blue cross.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she’d said.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following people for their continued support of the Kelly Porter series.

At Canelo, Louise, Fran and the whole team; your energy and passion for the series is fantastic. From the first manuscript to the final edit, you’re with me every step.

To my agent, Peter Buckman, for your advice, patience and faith.

To my children, Tilly and Freddie, who straightened out my street language to their exacting standards, and to their friends, who helped with the lyrics.

Calm.

Thank you to Dave Part, my old friend, who first flagged up the shocking young offending statistics to me. I hope Barb approves x

To the lemons, limes and pips for endless conversations about murder. Billy, I will not make you a deranged killer…

And Mike, my biggest supporter and the person who picks me up and dusts me off… I love you.