Kate and Hannah’s father sat in the small but comfortable family waiting room while Hank went to sign them in. He returned a few minutes later with Heather Gilbert, Tim Stanton’s assistant, who had everything prepared and was keen to expedite the process of identification. She greeted Peter Swift with empathy and sensitivity, telling him she’d wait outside until he was ready.
Kate gave Hank a nod that was almost imperceptible, thanking him for giving Heather the heads-up that Swift had not yet been warned of the horrific nature of his daughter’s death and that Kate needed more time to prepare him.
Hank escorted Heather outside.
Kate waited until the door closed before speaking. ‘Peter, identifying a loved one is never easy. Before we go in, I must warn you that Hannah has substantial injuries to her head and face—’
‘Are you saying I might not recognise her?’
Kate loathed this part of her job. ‘It’s possible.’
His eyes misted slightly. ‘I understand.’
‘Do you need a moment alone?’
‘No, I’m ready.’ He stood up, keen to get it over with.
Kate did likewise, leading him out to join the others.
He was very brave as they approached the viewing room. Once inside, the detectives stood discreetly to one side, allowing Heather a moment to settle the man’s nerves. Swift had asked not to view the body through glass, but to be physically in the room with his daughter. As the sheet was removed, he showed no emotion.
That would come later.
Kate was relieved to see that Hannah didn’t look quite as bad as she’d expected now the blood had been cleaned away, though bruising and cuts were evident. Only her face was visible and one arm so he could hold her hand if he so wished. The fact that he didn’t brought a lump to Kate’s throat. He spent little time with his daughter, though he was given the option of doing so. Kate didn’t judge him for it. Some people were tactile. Others couldn’t bear to look, let alone touch. The process of identification was all over in a matter of minutes. There was no doubt in Swift’s mind that it was Hannah.
Formalities complete, Kate explained that it wouldn’t be possible to release the body for burial for some time, asking if he had any questions before leaving. There were none. Hank drove them straight to Craster, remaining in the car so that she could talk to Swift alone. Though the caravan was gone, he’d asked if they could walk for a while on the beach where Hannah had spent much of the past two months, the ancient ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle visible in the distance. Kate suspected that this remote headland was where he’d come to be alone with his memories of his daughter.
Kate had considered changing his hotel reservation to one in Embleton, a short distance away, a pleasant walk for those fit enough to make it. She discounted the idea. Hannah’s murder would be on the minds of locals. Kate wouldn’t want to risk the possibility of surrounding him with people talking openly about it.
She couldn’t risk it.
As they walked, it began to snow again. Large flakes swirled on the wind, a magical sight that was incompatible with the ghastly reason that had brought them there. She’d like to think that the peaceful scene would remain with Swift when he returned home, not the image of a lifeless body in the morgue they had just come from.
Pulling up the collar of his overcoat, Swift slowed his pace, turning to face her. ‘I didn’t want to come north. In fact, I refused. Did your Met colleague tell you that?’
‘No, she didn’t mention it.’
‘As Hannah’s next of kin, I felt I had no choice.’
Kate was trying not to dwell on the fact that, in the eyes of the law, he did not fulfil that role. Despite his young age, Aaron was her nearest relative, the person who stood to inherit her estate.
Swift carried on talking. ‘DS Thakur gave me reason to believe that I might regret it if I didn’t come.’ His gaze settled somewhere in the middle distance. ‘Now I’m here, I think she was right. It’s so beautiful, as was Hannah when, before . . .’
He couldn’t say it.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Kate was finally able to say with confidence.
‘You’re very kind. Believe it or not, we were once inseparable.’ His bottom lip began to tremble, moist eyes locking on to Kate’s. ‘Though it pains me to say it, I lost Hannah a long time ago.’
Kate had an in and seized upon it. ‘May I ask why?’
He hesitated. ‘Do you happen to smoke?’
‘Not often, I quit. But I always carry some for days like these.’
Wondering if he was trying to avoid the subject, Kate handed a new packet over and a lighter to go with it. Swift stopped walking, tore off the cellophane wrapper and took one out. Turning his back to the North Sea, shielding the flame in order to light it, he took the nicotine deep into his lungs. It seemed to calm him. He returned the packet, thanking her. Resisting the temptation to join him, Kate slipped them in her coat pocket.
The weather was getting worse. It was very nearly a whiteout now, the castle ruins like a ghostly shadow. The only sound was the waves crashing against the rocks below, sending sea-spray high into the air. Kate suggested they walk to the car before Hank sent out a search party.
They turned back.
‘You would’ve liked Hannah,’ Swift said, finally. ‘She was smart. When she left university, there was no gap year, no aspiration to hang on to academia via a PhD. She went straight into business on her own. In five years, she’d built up a hugely successful global company, one of the fastest growing at the time.’
‘What type?’
‘One that began with me, I suppose . . .’ For a moment, Swift stared out to sea, lost in his memories. Turning, he smiled at Kate. ‘My work took us all over the world. By the age of five, Hannah could speak multiple languages fluently. As a family, we were invited to every corporate event imaginable: major golfing tours, World Cup football, horse racing and Formula One.’
‘Perks of the job?’
‘Exactly that. Hannah loved to travel. It was like a drug to her. It wasn’t the celebrity lifestyle, more the cultural experience that attracted her. She studied geography and economics at Jesus College, Cambridge. The company she founded arranged personally designed packages to every sporting event imaginable, including tours and transportation, hospitality and exclusive, luxury accommodation. You name it, she could arrange it. She had a way with people, and they loved her.’
‘You must’ve been very proud.’
He didn’t answer.
Kate had heard the good bit. The downward spiral that led to Hannah’s death was much harder for him to share. She gave him a gentle nudge. ‘Peter, I can see how difficult this is for you to talk about, but I desperately need your help. I’m struggling to understand how Hannah got from there to here . . . and I must if I’m to catch the person responsible for her death.’
Swift didn’t look at her as he spoke. ‘You and Hannah have much in common. She was persuasive, a good communicator too. The last time I saw her was in 2009. In April of that year, she’d arrived home unexpectedly, asking for a bridging loan to tide her over. I hadn’t seen her for ages. She’d been living the high life abroad. I saw quite a change in her.’
‘In what way?’
‘She was . . .’ He paused, reaching for the right way to describe his daughter. ‘Stressed out, I think is the current term. Totally out of character. Hannah was normally so full of life. Nothing fazed her. I should have known that something was terribly wrong. Deep down, I think I did, but she had big plans to expand her business and, stupidly, I put it down to pressure of work.’
‘When she was living abroad, did she write?’
‘Write? Who the hell does that these days?’ Swift gave a half-smile. ‘She’d text, occasionally she’d call.’
Kate had been hoping for a handwriting comparison with the note, the content of which she had no intention of sharing. The man had enough to cope with. Knowledge that his daughter had lived in constant fear would surely break him. When Kate found the perpetrator, it would come out in a subsequent trial, but that was for another day and she’d prepare him for it.
‘Did you loan Hannah the money?’
‘No. I gave her two hundred thousand.’
‘Wow! That’s generous.’
‘I wanted her to have it. Though she didn’t know, her mother had been diagnosed with cancer by then.’ His eyes grew cold. ‘The possibility of losing Marianne put a lot of things into perspective, wealth being one of them. As they say, you can’t take it with you. Anyway, Hannah was an only child. She stood to inherit everything eventually. In June of that year, she returned home, begging for more. When I asked what it was for, or when she might repay me, she became evasive. When pressed, she said it was better I didn’t know. As soon as it was out of her mouth, I could see she wanted to take it back. It was then I knew for sure that she was in some kind of trouble.’
Kate was doing the maths. Aaron was born in late February 2009 so he must have been four months old when she last saw her father. Was she trying to accumulate enough money to make a run for it, fearing for her own safety and that of her child?
‘Did you discuss it further?’ Kate asked.
‘I tried . . . I told her that whatever it was could be fixed, that I’d front up the cash, on one condition—’
‘Which was?’
‘That she move in with us or go to our house in Bordeaux to sort herself out. Marianne is French. She inherited the property from her parents. It had lain empty for months while she was being treated. I told Hannah she’d be doing us a favour. She point-blank refused. We rowed. She left.’
‘You didn’t get to the bottom of it?’
Peter shook his head. ‘When we didn’t hear from her, Marianne and I became very concerned.’
‘And yet neither of you reported her missing.’
‘No. She was an adult. As I said, we’d argued. Realistically, what would the police have done?’
Kate didn’t answer, though under the circumstances, she could’ve said ‘very little’. She hadn’t meant to sound judgemental – she was merely stating a fact – but commenting on his failure to report Hannah missing turned out to be the trigger for Swift to let go. As the relentless snow blew horizontally along the beach, the floodgates opened.