She laid it over his head and pressed as hard as she could. The exertion made her breath shallow and her muscles ache. She was shocked at the effort it took. His body quivered and vibrated under her hands but he was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web, his limbs suspended to save his life, and to allow his skin to heal from the terrible trauma he’d suffered up on the mountain. Abigail felt her body fatigue from the stiffness of her force, and she’d lost track of time. She looked down at her father and realised that he was no longer moving. Over the last few days, he’d had such little movement in his body that she had to check herself. She removed the pillow. The beeps and machines were silent.

His face was contorted in a ghastly scream, as though he’d tried his very best to take a gasp of air at the last moment, but Abigail didn’t feel guilty, just tremendously sad.

It was best for them all.

She replaced the pillow by his head and straightened the sheets. Gently wiping off some of his sweat from his face, she closed his eyes and his mouth. He looked strangely at peace. She turned around and walked out of the room, checking that the nurse’s alarm remained off, as she’d set it earlier. She closed the door quietly and walked along the silent corridor. As she emerged from the bowels of the ICU, where she’d cried her last tears, she felt liberated from the hell she’d lived under for four long years, knowing that her father was a monster.

She called Fabian so she could hear his voice. She wanted connection with the one person who understood. But he didn’t answer and his phone went to voicemail.

Chapter 62

Kelly stood opposite Andrew Harris, who was seated comfortably. He’d requested an update, first thing Monday morning.

‘Kelly, the report into the crash has to meet certain criteria to satisfy the AAIB and the public inquiry,’ Andrew said.

‘Certain criteria? You mean an abridged version of the truth? Stop short? Is that what you’re asking?’

‘I’m not asking, Kelly.’

‘You’re threatening me?’

She stood in his office, having refused a chair, or a coffee. And sneezed.

‘Excuse me,’ she said.

He passed her a tissue but she took one out of her bag instead of taking one from him.

‘Have you finished?’ he asked her.

She nodded tersely.

‘Write your final report, Kelly, and submit it to the AAIB. The investigation into why Bartholomew Kennedy-Craig and Lord Donald Reilly were together before they were murdered is for the child abuse unit to bring to justice.’

‘Don’t muddy the waters?’ she snapped.