She shook her head. ‘Not exactly. It was more about reminding myself what I really want.’ She moved closer to him. He could feel the heat rising from her body. Without thinking, he opened his arms and she stepped into their circle. They stood together, hugging so tight they could feel the thud of each other’s blood. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of her. For the first time since his visit to Schloss Hochenstein, his mind was freed from the images of horror it had generated.

The reprieve didn’t last for long. Carol ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head and spoke softly. ‘I’m sorry. All I think about is me. How has your day been?’

His body stiffened in her embrace, and he gently moved away from her. ‘You don’t want to hear this stuff,’ he said, crossing to the table and picking up the bottle of Scotch sitting there. He raised his eyebrows at her and Carol shook her head. He poured a stiff drink and dropped into the upright chair by his laptop. He sipped at the whisky and shook his head. ‘Trust me, you really don’t.’

Carol perched on the end of the sofa, only a few inches separating their knees. ‘I’m not exactly a horror-story virgin,’ she reminded him. ‘You know how this stuff eats away at you. So come on, share the burden.’

He stared down into his drink. ‘Kids. They were just kids. It’s not like I don’t know in graphic detail what gets done to children.’ He frowned. ‘But that’s individuals. One sick bastard preying on kids. So that’s manageable, because they’re beyond the pale. They’re not like us. That’s what you reassure yourself with.’ He swallowed more whisky.

‘But the terrible thing about this, Carol, the thing that makes me feel like I’ve swallowed some corrosive poison just by knowing about this stuff, is that it was a collaborative effort. Dozens, probably hundreds of people were involved in what was done to those children. Their parents hid behind their own sense of powerlessness and let those bastards take their kids away. And for what? Because they were physically handicapped. Or because they were mentally deficient. Or just because they were difficult little buggers who didn’t stick to the rules.’ He ran a hand through his hair, his face revealing his troubled bewilderment. Carol put a hand on his knee and he covered it with his own.