“This is my treat,” Scott said. “Eight cans because I’ve been a good boy. I loved this woman. At the start, when she sprang this bloody– this trap, I told her I still loved her. But I don’t anymore. I hate her. I wish she was dead.”

“So do I.”

“To be honest, mate,” Scott went on, his voice slurred. “I don’t want you getting involved in this. You’ve got so much going on. You’ve got your kids and Aissa and a whole life… Just forget about me, mate.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can. Because, mate, honestly… I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of her.”

Scott laughed bluntly. “Tell me about work. Tell me the most boring thing you can think of, something from the real world.”

Gary wanted to argue, but Scott sounded desperate. So he did what his friend asked. He spoke about an account he was working on, all the mundane ins and outs of combing over the books, as Scott drank his can then opened another.

37

LAUREN

Every time Lauren closed her eyes, she saw the cat; she saw the crimson streaked through the fur. And then it was Casey’s expression, the tedium, the vacancy.

Lauren rolled over, trying to get comfortable, and then rolled over again.

Morgan huffed from the other side of the bed. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“So have I.”

“Settle down then.”

Lauren sighed. “I’m trying.”

She wasn’t sure if she should tell Morgan about everything that was happening. It was a tricky situation, meaning she’d have to venture into territory both wanted to avoid. There was no way she could describe the cat video to Morgan; it was too haunting, too cruel to inflict that on another person.

Lauren opened her eyes and looked at the bold red letters of the clock, the blood-red letters. It was almost three.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, back turned, face buried in the pillow.

“Just work.”

“Is it about him?”

Lauren stifled a groan. “Are we going to have that conversation?”

“I don’t like you working with him.”

Lauren attempted a joke. “Jealous, are you?”

But Morgan didn’t rise to it. It was probably in poor taste anyway. “You’ve been acting weird for almost a month. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s like you’re always somewhere else, or wishing you were.”

“I’d love to talk about it with you. But something tells me you don’t want to hear it.”

“Not if it’s about him.”

“Well, it is.”

“Then keep it to yourself.”

Lauren rose from bed and left the room, the light from the landing guiding her. Zora looked up, blinking her eyes open, and Lauren leaned down and scooped her up. Zora was the cuddliest cat Lauren had ever known, behaving like a dog sometimes, always keen to be held and stroked. She curled up in Lauren’s arms as they walked downstairs.

Dropping onto the sofa, she lay with Zora still in her arms, wondering how anybody could possibly harm an animal.