He’d fallen for Casey so easily. The first night had been like a scene from a porn film, Casey taking the lead as she did everything a man could wish for, as she asked for nothing in return. Grinning like a man who’d recently hit his head – who didn’t understand there was a bleed on his brain – he’d taken everything she offered.

His fist was tight around the stress ball. Lauren was talking. He focused past the haze. “Sorry?”

“I said you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You made a mistake.”

“Yeah.”

“I already told you, it’s fine.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I mean that.”

But it wouldn’t be fine until Casey backed off. Nothing would.

8

SCOTT

“Thanks for asking for my permission, honey,” Casey said down the phone. Scott was squeezing it hard, pressing it forcefully against his ear. “It’s honestly so thoughtful. And yes, of course you can go and see Natalie’s parents. I’d never stand in the way of that. I just hope you remember what we talked about.”

Did she think he was recording this conversation? He hadn’t thought of that, though he saw it would be a good idea. Get her to reveal the monster behind the mask.

“I won’t forget. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, great. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, forcing the words out.

“I love you more.”

Were they really doing this?

It turned out they were. For at least a minute, they went through the routine, talking like they were teenage lovers. In the end, Casey magnanimously admitted Scott loved her more.

Once she’d hung up, he took a moment, breathing slowly. She knew she had all the power; she knew she could tell him to come home right now and he would. She must’ve guessed his planned visit had something to do with her blackmail. The timing was too coincidental. So why was she letting him go?

Maybe she was that confident in her control. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she thought he was going to fail, no matter what his plan was.

Scott ignored the little voice telling him she was right. He often wondered if he thought he deserved this, or something like it, deep down. As if he’d earned payback for a wrong he didn’t even know he’d committed. Like he was guilty.

Stuffing his emotions away – he was good at that – he drove out of Bristol, taking the motorway to Weston-super-Mare. He tried to listen to the audiobook he’d started the previous week, but the words kept jumbling in his mind. The narrator’s voice became Casey’s syrupy confidence, mocking him, humiliating him, until he had to switch it off.

He focused on the road, not letting himself think about how futile this was. There was no indication that Natalie’s suicide note had anything to do with Casey. But he had to try.

He hadn’t rung ahead, not wanting to risk Natalie’s parents hanging up on him. He doubted they wanted to see him. They’d hardly looked at him at the funeral, as though blaming him for the way Natalie had died: blaming him for their daughter becoming a sinner.