‘Needs a change,’ he said. He pointed to the side of the couch. ‘Can you grab that mat for me? Lay it on the floor.’

Roland picked up the mat and placed it next to Tom, who laid Jo down and unclipped her onesie, then snapped off her nappy.

A look of disgust passed over Roland’s face. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘That’s foul. It stinks.’

Not as bad as the crack den you were living in, Tom thought. ‘She’s a baby,’ he said. ‘They poop.’

‘Man,’ Roland said. ‘I sometimes wonder why anyone would put themselves through this.’

It wasn’t just what you went through when they were babies. Tom thought of his parents and what they had been through with Roland: the worry, the heartache, the despair. He wondered sometimes whether it had contributed to his dad’s illness, built up inside him and poisoned him from within.

He had to put that thought aside, though, or he would not be able to have any kind of relationship with his brother at all, whether his dad wanted it or not.

‘Good question,’ Tom said. ‘But it’s worth it. I hope you find out someday.’

‘No chance,’ Roland replied. ‘There’s absolutely no chance of that.’

Alice

Alice drove home, writing the story in her mind. She had the name already; it had come to her immediately.

The Crucifix Killer.

She yawned. It had been a long day. A long few months, but she’d write it that night. It couldn’t wait.

When she got home Tom was on the couch, Jo asleep in his arms. He appeared to be on the verge of sleep himself.

‘How was Nadia?’ he whispered.

‘Great. We talked about the murders. She gave me a new thing to write about.’

‘What was it?’

‘It’s horrible. The killer folds the victims’ arms over their chests, and puts a crucifix in their right hands.’

‘Holy shit. That’s crazy.’

‘I know.’

‘People are going to lap it up, though. They love this kind of stuff.’

‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘And I have a name.’

‘Which is?’

‘The Crucifix Killer.’

‘My wife,’ Tom said, ‘is an evil genius.’

‘Just genius will do, thanks.’

‘I had a fun evening,’ he said. ‘I got to see Roland.’

‘I met him when your mum came. I wasn’t sure whether to invite him in, but—’

‘That’s fine,’ Tom said. ‘It’s not your problem.’

‘You didn’t throw him out?’ Alice said. ‘You said once he was no longer your brother.’

‘Mum asked me not to. For her and for Dad. She said they’d forgiven him, so I should be able to.’ He looked away, tears in his eyes. ‘And with Dad’s condition—’

‘Isn’t that emotional blackmail?’ Alice said.

‘I suppose it is, but what choice did I have?’

‘You don’t have to forgive him,’ Alice said. ‘It’s up to you.’