There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Twenty Three

Saturday July 16

Dean McCoy checked his watch with annoyance. He still hadn't heard back from Doug Prosser after leaving a scripted, open message on his mobile the evening before.

The rest of his day between speaking with Georgina and calling Doug had been filled with Young covering his desk with the mountains of backlog he'd referred to. For Frank Young this was more important in meeting targets than another day on a wasted soul for whom the coroner was satisfied was self-inflicted. He and McCoy came from similar places; there was a healthy respect but now they batted for different teams. What constituted a good day or a good week was volume for one and singular for the other. They both knew the system and both accepted it in the end, it was just that one was more willing to sacrifice ideals for his KPIs.

Even though he'd had to submit the report, McCoy didn't like loose ends. He didn't like to let people feel he didn't care. He could be a real piece of work but it was only ever about being clear and seeing things through. It wasn't the how so much as the doing it.

He picked up his phone again and hit redial. Doug answered on the second ring.

'Yes sorry Detective, I did get your message last night I've just had a very busy morning.'

And so have I, dickhead. Too busy to hear about your daughter's autopsy results?  thought McCoy.

'Look, Doug, I just wanted to let you know that we have issued a death certificate for Avery last night. The coroner is satisfied it was suicide.' McCoy heard Doug Prosser weeping on the other end of the phone. If there was a difference, and McCoy didn't pick it up, it was that Doug's was a shallower guilt than Georgina's. But they came from the same place and that was something McCoy knew nothing of.

The shallow guilt that your own kid couldn't come to you when they were at breaking point.

The deep guilt for Georgina that she might have been the very reason for things breaking.

Dean McCoy had his own ideas around the reason for Avery's state of mind, and every one of them involved Vincent in some way, if he had to let go of the idea anyone else had anything to do with it.

'Doug, even though this is done I'm still... confused.' It was easier to put it this way than declare the people he worked for didn't care as much as he did. 'You said to me when I was at your house a couple of days ago that 'something changed' a while ago for her. Do you remember when that was, even roughly?'

'I can, as a matter of fact.' Doug Prosser had held onto his secrets for long enough that were knotting his stomach and giving him eczema. He couldn't let them all go but he could give McCoy a start; he owed Avery a lot more than that.

'It was a day or two before my birthday. A Saturday night. Ave had borrowed my car to go down to a do near where the Sampson's had a holiday house. I remember it because I had a missed call on my phone the next morning from her and my first thought was that she has bingled the Merc. I phoned her back but she didn't pick up. All day I tried and she finally came around to drop the car back off that night - late. When I asked her why she'd phoned, she broke down but couldn't really tell me anything. Cried for nearly an hour, she did. I never got from her what had happened but that was the point that she really stopped coming here at all.' He paused as if he wasn't sure he should give his opinion.

'I figured it was something that he had done and she couldn't tell me. I asked her directly had he hurt her and she swore black and blue he hadn't. For what it was worth, I believed her. She was a strong kid, she wouldn't put up with that.' Doug Prosser's guilt was multiplying as he talked about his daughter that was gone. Strong? Sure she was. But not strong enough apparently for any of them to tell her about what Vincent and Georgina had been doing.

McCoy and Lewis were the only ones still alive who mattered that didn't know about it. And even though they were suspicious it really didn't seem to matter that much anymore.

But that stuff had happened months before she changed and Doug couldn't believe Vincent would have told her anything.

After all, Vincent had the most to lose.

'And when was this? When is your birthday, Doug?' McCoy was furiously scribbling notes. He had four new files of various levels of burglary building up on his desk already. He barely knew why he was bothering with the rest of this part of the investigation. The report had been filed and Frank Young had signed it off.

'My birthday is April 11th, Detective, so this would have been the Saturday night before that. Ah... the ninth.'

'And this 'do' they went to – this was down near the Sampson holiday house near....' McCoy scrambled for his notes. 'Barwon Heads – past Geelong – is that right?'

'That's right, Detective.' Doug Prosser was glad there was some information he could give McCoy that might help whatever it was he felt needed probing that didn't involve revealing what his wife had done. He pushed the feeling away as he had every day since April 10th that had him consider he and his now ex-wife might have been responsible for what their daughter had become. And finally done. But even now it was Vincent who he blamed, regardless of whether the Georgina thing was relevant.

'OK Doug, well thank you for that. I wonder, did Avery keep a diary of any sort? Something that might have something that explains any of this?' McCoy saw an email come through from downstairs that had another theft from the shopping centre that he and Lewis had been to the week before. He closed his eyes and turned from his screen to be able to focus for now on what Doug Prosser was saying.

'No Detective, not that I was ever aware of. It might be on her phone I guess?'

McCoy was already ahead of him and had her Facebook page up again, flicking through her photos from around that date. Better than a diary – and he saw the photos stop altogether on the date they were referring to, as he'd noted earlier in the week. There were seven from that night, posted during the party that showed her and Vincent in various stages of enchantment and decay. Dressed sharp, dancing together and sitting in a bean bag in the backyard with tiki torches blazing all around them. She got her looks from her mother – Dean McCoy zoomed in on her face, looking into her eyes to see any sign of pain but he saw happiness; raw, pure happiness that he could only envy. Even when he knew what happened to her only a week or so ago now he could see no sign of it coming in those pictures.

Her 'diary' was clean, and beyond April 9th it was empty.

Whatever happened, it hadn't been broadcast.

'Yeah, thank you Doug.' McCoy was absent minded into the receiver as he contemplated what might have happened. 'You let me know if you need anything more from us. The coroner will release her today for you.'