Her second in command referred to the case in general, and not Kelly’s testimony, which in fact hadn’t been needed in the end, so convincing was the forensic case her team had built. The facts spoke for themselves, so much so that the jury squirmed every time details were brought up of exactly how Ian Burton liked to torture his poor sodding victims. Burton had pleaded not guilty and so subjected the families of those concerned, as well as the public purse, and the poor jury, to a litany of brutality in court. It was criminal in itself, but that was another matter.

‘Thanks, love,’ Kelly replied.

They hung up. She checked her rear mirror again and caught a glimpse of the hills to the east of Ullswater, and felt a pull that she hadn’t experienced for some time. She’d been so wrapped up in hiding from the press, and coping with Johnny’s betrayal, that she’d given the hills a rain check. It was as if she lived in any other ordinary town, and not on the edge of the national park, surrounded by wilderness. She knew in that moment that the first thing she’d do after the verdict, whether it went their way or not, was get up there above the snowline, and hike her guts out. The thought gave her renewed resolve and she started the car just as a couple of journalists, grabbing coffee at the shop next to the Crown pub, spotted her and darted towards it.

She sped past them and had never felt so much desire to flick the bird at somebody as she did in that moment. It took all her strength to keep her finger hidden. She drove past them and headed off towards the M6. She gripped the steering wheel so hard that a stinging sensation alerted her to her senses. Her nails were digging into her flesh and she released her grip.

This case was killing her.

Chapter 2

The Right Honourable Lord Donald Reilly held his woollen coat close to his body, as he battled to pull on his leather gloves at the same time. The damn weather up north was confounding. The wind almost blew him off his feet, but one of the pilots gently took his elbow and guided him towards the machine that was to take them back to London. The helicopter, whether modern or a hundred years old, was a certified death trap if ever there was one, and defied physics. A scientist at heart, and by academic award, Donald hated them.