Kim sat in her office staring out at an empty squad room.

The service started in an hour, but she’d wanted to drop in at the station first. Had wanted to make sure that everything to do with the case had been squared away.

He deserved that.

Hannah Winters had been pronounced dead at the scene, as she had suspected. One act borne of jealousy twenty-five years earlier had ended and fractured countless lives in the present.

Graham Steele had been charged with the murder of Sadie Winters, Shaun Coffee-Todd, Joanna Wade, and the attempted murder of Christian Fellows. The charges for Lorraine’s death were still being worked out, but further crimes would be added to the list that would keep the counsellor behind bars for the rest of his life.

Perversely, there was a sense of relief in Graham’s understanding that he had not killed Lorraine Peters and her child. As yet he seemed not to have connected himself to the present murders, as though they were unimportant to him. His need for vengeance had eclipsed the irony that he was killing children purposely for being tricked into killing one accidentally. The hatred of Laurence had gnawed and festered over the years, spreading through him like a virus with each fresh nightmare or reminder of what he’d done. Sadie’s poem had been the catalyst for it all. Her missing backpack had been found in the boot of his car and her diary in his bedside cabinet. Kim still struggled to picture the man lying in bed at night reading the most intimate and personal thoughts of the thirteen-year-old girl.

Laurence Winters left hospital and had been swiftly charged with the attempted murder of Lorraine Peters. He had retreated into silence and refused to answer any questions on the historic crime, even though Graham was telling the whole story. There would be DNA tests to prove or disprove Graham’s account and Laurence’s involvement, but Kim believed him.

Havers had been charged with the attempted murder of Geoffrey Piggott, after three students confirmed they had seen him exit the bell tower just an hour before sending Geoffrey up there with the key. It appeared that the Spades network operated on a risk versus reward basis. Contrary to his expectation, the Spades had not come rushing to his defence, either drawing the line at attempted murder or unwilling to risk their own reputations for a sports coach. Kim was reminded of the Russian dolls. It was the elite, within the elite, within the elite, and Havers was nowhere near the dolls at the centre.

Thorpe genuinely hadn’t known that Havers had been keeping the Spades alive and had vowed to re-examine all suspicious accidents and ensure that any guilty parties were brought to justice. A lesser man would have run away from the place as quickly as possible, but Thorpe was determined to stand strong and rebuild the battered reputation of Heathcrest.

Once events had begun to sink in Saffie had refused to visit or speak to her father. Added to her own anger was the knowledge of his actions in the past, along with her mother’s death. It would be some time before her life looked anything resembling normal again. Until it did she had chosen to remain at Heathcrest. Principal Thorpe had assured Kim that they would take good care of her, and she believed him.

The funeral of Joanna Wade had not been the sombre affair she had expected. Her colourful friends and younger brother had ensured that the service was a celebration of her life, not her death. Particularly poignant had been readings from students of both her old school and Heathcrest about what Joanna had meant to them. After the service Thorpe had revealed to her that Joanna had moved to Heathcrest for the substantial pay increase and benefits following her mother’s move into a care home. Joanna’s pension and death-in-service benefit would cover the bills there for quite a few years to come.

And so, she had read all the statements, filed all the papers, replied to all the emails.

And then she had sat and talked to an empty desk. A desk that still held his personal possessions because no one had yet found the courage to remove them.

She had pictured him sitting back in his chair, his tie loosened, his button opened and sporting a lazy smile. She imagined him rolling his eyes at Bryant when his older colleague was trying to give him some good advice.

She could visualise him winking at Stacey when needling her about her addiction to the Warcraft computer game. And her secret smile that told Kim she enjoyed it.

She pictured him tapping away on his computer with a fierce single-minded hunger in his eyes when he knew he was on to a lead.

She could see him walking the length of the office in high-heeled shoes on the back of a bet from Bryant. Which he’d won.

Hundreds of memories had played through her head as she’d stared at the space that had been his.

One memory had got hold of her and would not let her go. There was a time that they’d stood in the car park outside the station. She had laid into him verbally for disobeying a direct instruction not to use the press for a public appeal.

She had made no effort to hide the disappointment she had felt in him, and he had made no attempt to hide his regret and hurt at her disappointment. She knew her approval had been important to him. She’d known it then, and she’d known it in his recent appraisal.

The phone rang, startling her even though she’d been expecting the call.

‘Car’s ready, Marm,’ Jack said, sombrely into her ear.

He couldn’t see her nod as she replaced the receiver.

She pushed herself to a standing position and reached for the elbow crutches issued by the hospital.

She hopped her way through the office and paused at the desk nearest the door.

She placed a single sheet of paper in the centre. The recommendation for promotion, complete with her signature at the bottom.

‘Yes, Kev,’ she whispered. ‘You were ready.’