It had been about forty minutes, circling back to Gary’s house then coming here. Gary was parked down the street. Lauren parked and walked over to him. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, a laptop propped on the steering wheel, the hard drive plugged in and the cat video playing; the lockbox lay destroyed on the passenger seat.

He stared, his mouth open, flinching every time Casey did the terrible thing. Again and again, Casey did it, and then came the look: listless eyes, no emotion at all.

Lauren knocked on the window, her trance broken when the video ended.

“You brought your laptop.”

“I had to watch it.” Gary placed his laptop on the passenger seat and unplugged the hard drive. “It sounds naïve, but I never believed somebody could be… But I did; I’ve read books, heard stories, watched documentaries. I knew it, but…”

“Seeing it is different,” Lauren said.

“Yeah. I kept expecting her to stop. Like she’d come to her senses. But she was conscious. I mean, it wasn’t a frenzy. It was just… like an execution.”

“You shouldn’t have watched it,” Lauren said, putting her hand out.

Gary tilted his head. “What? You want to shake my hand?”

“I thought I’d hold that so you don’t end up watching it again.”

“Once was enough.” Gary slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Let’s end this.”

Lauren told herself to snatch it. She could drive away and arrange to meet Scott later. There would be nothing Gary could do, not once she was in her car.

But she didn’t; she followed him down the road and up the lane to Scott’s house. Maybe Scott was a good man; maybe he’d have nothing to tell. But he would have told, if he’d thought she could get rid of Casey for him.

Lauren looked at her bracelet, at the tree pendant, and her heart thudded.

She was in this alone now; she’d lost her support.

Gary knocked on the door.

“What are you doing?” Lauren said.

“No point being subtle.” Gary hammered on the glass panes. “Scott! Casey! We need to talk to you…”

The door swung ajar, creaking as a gust of wind blew it all the way open. Lauren almost took a step back. It was like the wind had purposefully opened it. She pushed away that superstitious thought.

“Scott?” she called out, as she forced herself to walk into the house. “Scott? Are you home?”

“Scott, mate?” Gary walked in after her.

“Maybe they’re out,” Lauren said.

“Might as well check.”

They walked around downstairs. The house was even more of a mess than last time. The living room was piled high with boxes, two layers of them stacked up against the window. There were two exercise machines and an oversized TV resting on the stand. As they searched, Lauren spotted knives, whips and paddles that looked like BDSM tools.

Gary and Lauren walked upstairs, Lauren ahead of him. She nearly stopped, asked him to go first. She pushed the idea away. There was no point being melodramatic. They had the video, the leverage, the thing that had made Casey stop. But this house was making Lauren feel like she was in a horror film.