Anita was sunk so deep in those memories that she only realised the court had adjourned for the day when people around her were standing up and shuffling out. Shit. How long had she been lost in her head? She’d have to beg favours from colleagues to fill in whatever chunks she’d missed.

There was a move on by a few journos and lawyers to hang around for Friday afternoon drinks. Anita had been avoiding social gatherings. She didn’t want to keep talking about Stacey but she couldn’t bear to talk about anything other than Stacey. Any kind of regular chat felt scratchy or awkward or phoney, so she’d kept to herself. The only exception was time spent with Paula. The two of them could rave on about the killings without polite limits or apology. And when it was the two of them, they also felt free to say nothing or talk trivia or laugh about silly stuff, whatever—but all the while, the fact of what had happened would be suspended in the air they breathed together, in a way that felt essential, compulsory.

Of course, it was self-indulgent and unhealthy to continue avoiding social events. Anita ought to ease back into human interaction. So that Friday, she let herself be swept along in the chattering group heading to the pub.

By the time Anita arrived in the back bar, the courthouse mob had colonised one of the long tables and people scooched over on the bench seat to make a spot for her in the middle of a noisy group of lawyers. That suited her—being immersed in loud opinionated voices and raucous laughter, she was free to listen and smile and not really engage with people. It still felt a bit phoney, but it was a start.

A few minutes later, three cops joined the group, and Anita realised Rohan Mehta was one of them. He must have been around the Downing Street courts today because he was a detective on the Santino case, which was coming to trial soon.

As they dragged extra chairs up to the far end of the table, Mehta nodded hello to her. Two days after the killings, Anita had gone in to his office to give a statement. He’d called her a few times since then to check details about Stacey—part of the job of preparing material for the coroner. It could be eighteen months or two years before a coronial inquest would be scheduled, but the bulk of the police work on it needed to be done now.