Scott ducked his head and strode down the hallway. Harvey was blaming a husband for his wife’s death – a death that had almost ruined Scott – when he was the one at fault.

And yet that wasn’t true. Scott could’ve helped her, been better in certain ways. But it was ridiculous, the way Harvey and Theresa behaved. Disowning their own daughter, destroying any trace of her in their homes. No photos. No concern. Just forget her; put her in the ground and leave her there to rot. And they only knew her as the daughter, an angel. How could they ever reject that, her?

Scott stopped when he saw the vigil. From a side room off the hallway – it had been Harvey’s small office the last time Scott was here – dozens of photos were displayed in gold and silver frames, unlit candles sitting beneath them.

Natalie was smiling as a little girl and waving as a teenager and caught mid-laugh as a young woman. She was beaming on their wedding day and grinning as she held onto her mother’s hand on the beach. Scott walked into the room.

She was beautiful; her smile brought to mind dozens of memories, all of them clashing, their first kiss and her low voice whispering in his ear. I think I love you. He’d laughed and pulled her closer, both of them drunk, both of them not caring, knowing they could do anything.

Scott was bloody crying again.

Behind him, Harvey’s footsteps. Scott turned, expecting anger, but Harvey only frowned softly. “I suppose both of us could’ve handled that better.”

Scott snorted back an ugly-sounding sob. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Harvey sighed. “We’ll never stop loving her. Even if we disagree with what she did.”

Harvey visibly hesitated for a moment, but then he pulled Scott into a hug. Scott wrapped his arms around the older man and embraced him gratefully. They stayed like that for a time, then Harvey took a step back. “Please, before Theresa…”

“I understand. Do you want to know if I find anything?”

Harvey looked at the vigil. “No, we’ve got everything we need. Don’t visit unannounced again.”

Scott left the house and walked across the street.

9

NATALIE

I knew Scott had a temper right from the beginning. When we first met in university, he’d get sulky if things didn’t go his way. Sometimes – especially if he’d been drinking – this sulkiness would become something else. He’d rant about the tiniest thing, like a drink being late, or his food order being wrong. Once a man hit on me in a club and Scott left, sending me a text from outside.

I can’t believe you’d do this to me.

I rang him and he told me he was waiting around the corner. I found him leaning against a wall in a nearby alleyway, his knuckles covered in blood. The wheelie bin was smeared in crimson, looking black and sticky.

I was an idiot; I took this display to mean he truly cared about me, to mean he was passionate and wanted me all to himself. In a sick way, I sort of liked it. It was evidence of how devoted he was, how deep his feelings ran.