She had taken care of John Keddie quickly. He hadn’t seen it coming, and years of reading true crime and performing taxidermy had made her surprisingly efficient at the job. It had been messy, but quick. All she’d had to do when she was done was lean over him, slip his Prius into neutral and let it roll into the sea.

This was different. John’s widow coming over unannounced meant she had to improvise. When she was done – and please God let that be soon – she’d need help moving the body and scrubbing down the house.

But there was another reason she was glad Ed was here, although she would never admit it out loud: a deep, slightly twisted part of her thought it was good for him to see this. This was the cost of keeping his secret. This was what sacrifice looked like.

‘Ed,’ Abby hissed, in the same tone she’d used on him as a boy when he was getting up to mischief. ‘Shut the fucking door right now and come help your mother.’

He flinched, then finally did as he was told. He took three small and cautious steps forward, leaning forward to look at the widow. ‘Is she…?

‘Not yet,’ Abby said. ‘You don’t need to be here for this part, but I’m going to need your help.’

The widow shuddered, spat up a mouthful of blood, then fell still again.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Ed said. ‘You killed John.’

‘Oh, come on, Ed, don’t give me that. You must have figured that out.’

‘I … I think I was afraid of the answer,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want you to … I didn’t want this.’

‘Well maybe if you hadn’t been lurking around his house like that she wouldn’t have made it here.’

‘But I didn’t want any of this,’ he said again.

‘Jesus, okay, Eddie, neither did I. But he was going to undo everything. He was going to undo the sacrifice your father made. The sacrifice we all made, for you. This is all because of you.’

‘No. Enough, Mum.’

‘Your dad is coming home, Eddie. This is nearly over. This is all nearly over.’

He took out his phone. ‘I’m calling Bobbi.’

‘Stop.’

He was crying now, which got Abby started again. Hot tears streaked down her face. She had to end this now. She lifted Kate Keddie’s head with her left hand and moved to drag the X-Acto knife over her throat.

One more time, she thought. One more sacrifice.

Big arms clasped around her, pulled her backwards, dragged her down the hall. She dropped the blade, struggling to break free of her son’s grip.

‘It’s all over,’ he said.