Scott ran a hand through his hair. His body was coated in sweat. It always was lately. “Please.”

Markus paused for a long time. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “I just wish she’d stop. Why does she have to be like this? Why does she have to make everybody’s life hell?”

“I don’t know. The truth is, I don’t know a bloody thing about her.”

“Polly, my daughter, she has netball on Thursday. You can come by then if you want, but like I said, I’ve got no idea what good it’ll do.”

His daughter, not Casey’s. And could Scott blame him if he thought that way?

“You understand. You’re the only person. That’s all I need. I can’t talk to anybody else about this.”

That was a half-truth. He could talk to Gary and even to Lauren, but neither of them knew what it was like, to fear his own wife. And, once they were face to face, it would be easier to get more information out of him. Scott would beg if he had to.

“I’ll message you my address,” Markus said. “Thursday at half past three work for you?”

“Yes, that should be fine.” Scott wouldn’t think about how he’d get to that meeting without alerting Casey’s suspicions. One problem at a time. “But don’t text me. Just tell me now. I’ll get a pen and paper.”

“She checked my phone too.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “You ready?”

Scott wrote down the address and put it in the glove compartment. After saying goodbye, he drove the rest of the way and parked up.

Opening the front door, he smelled vanilla-scented candles. The lights had been turned down and soft jazz played.

Casey appeared at the living-room door, wearing a silk dress that shifted as she approached him. Her hair was immaculate. She smelled like heaven.

Scott took a step back.

“That’s fair.” Casey bowed her head. “I was drunk yesterday. It’s no excuse, but… I’m sorry. I never should’ve hit you. I hate myself for it.”

Scott knew she was lying, and yet he had to remind himself. Her performance was so convincing. He fought the urge to embrace her.

She flipped a switch. She could do it again. There was nothing here, nothing real, not like with Natalie.

“I made us dinner,” Casey said. “I know it’s not enough to make up for what I did. But it’s a start, isn’t it?”

Scott couldn’t exactly tell her no. “It’s a start.”

“Well, come on then!” she exclaimed, making him believe, for a corrupted moment, she truly did want to make amends.

31

CASEY

Casey regretted the way she’d behaved the previous day. It wasn’t how she wanted things to go.

Only weak people relied on drugs to be able to enjoy themselves. Use them to enhance the experience, fine, but to allow herself to sink into a hole of boredom, a hole she could only climb out of with cocaine?

No. Fuck that.