There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Twenty Two

Friday July 15

'Well we're going to officially call Avery's death today – the coroner is satisfied it was a suicide.' McCoy left the rest of what he wanted to say out as he spoke on his desk phone to Georgina Prosser. He was calm because he had to be. He had no more time, no evidence and no real inclination to be bothered. The only thing he had was one of those feelings Senior Sergeant Frank Young had warned him about.

Georgina sobbed heavily on the other end of the line. McCoy listened and closed his eyes. He'd had three coffees already this morning as he finished the report. He'd included the facts to be sure they were accurate and noted but there was no section in a deceased file labelled 'Hunches'. He'd finished it but he hated the feeling of not being able to do your job properly. He'd rifled through the photos of the house again; of the screenshots they'd taken from both Avery's and Vincent's social media pages. He had to admit the fact that he hated this class of person and maybe that was what was behind his suspicion. The picture of Vincent with his hat on backwards holding his skateboard topped it off. That barely survived the flick across the room.

'That means you can plan the funeral now. She'll be released today. Vincent might want to be involved in it all.' He couldn't help but push just that little bit more. About Vincent, about the funeral plans Vincent had already mentioned – McCoy just needed to know whether they had talked or communicated at all, or whether he'd just made it all up.

It might have been finished but it wasn't 'done'.

'K.'

'Mrs Prosser, can I ask you another question about Vincent?'

He felt her pause and imagined her looking out of a window onto another verdant green haven that someone else kept and paid for. He imagined her pretty blue eyes wandering around the big living space her apartment afforded her. He hoped she had at least a portion of the concern at the direct question McCoy posed that he hoped she'd have.

'Yes, I suppose.' She almost dared not ask the question she had to. 'What do you want to know?'

'Well, Avery and he, they seemed to suit each other, you know - same background, similar interests. But did you always find him a good kid? I mean, did you trust him with your daughter?' McCoy really went for it, despite the report being done.

Georgina Prosser sobbed again. The thing between her and Vincent – McCoy couldn't possibly know about that, could he? There is no way Vincent would let on.

And Doug was too proud; she suspected he already knew.

Besides, it was finished anyway.

'Did I trust him? Well, yes, Detective, I did. Absolutely.' Judgement was always relative to your own standards.

'Doug has said she... changed a few months ago, you know, started to become more withdrawn, more moody. Is there anything you might have thought about that might explain it?'

Georgina Prosser had noticed all of it. Of course she had, mothers notice all of these things. But she'd checked with Vincent many times since that there was no way she could have known about their fling? Could Doug have told her? Her marriage had been terminal for years and even though when she called it and moved out she didn't say why, they both knew and were probably both relieved. But he wouldn't ever let on to Avery. He wouldn't do that, not Doug.

'You know I really have thought about it all Detective but if anything happened, I sure didn't know about it.' She covered the phone to stifle the yawing anguish she felt rushing through her. What kind of a mother does this? The tears were plopping onto the bench under her elbows, puddling even now.

'Well, OK then Mrs Prosser. Again, I am truly sorry for your loss.'

The only way to finish what was always a difficult conversation. McCoy put the phone down, closed the file he would go and put on Frank Young's desk and picked up his coffee cup. The photo of Avery paper clipped to the top right-hand corner of the folder showed a beautiful girl in the formative stage of her bright life. He sighed again and shook his head. It just wasn't okay that everyone around him accepted a kid could go from what she was to what she became and let the world keep on turning. He dropped the folder back onto his desk and picked up the phone again.

He'd call Doug Prosser again to tell him the news, and then go home and try to forget about the whole damn thing.