Days became weeks. Weeks turned to months. Three months later, Christa announced, “Mary-Beth wants a girls’ trip to Vegas. You and Jenna have been getting on so well lately that I should go. I’ve not had a proper girly break because of Jenna’s behaviour. This is my chance. What do you think?” “Go for it,” I said, my heart pounding. “We can get an early flight on a Thursday and return the following Monday. Does that sound...

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if fate hadn’t played its hand that Saturday afternoon in August—the call that took my wife out on an unexpected lunch date with an old friend, the fact that the responding officer to reports of two young women throwing eggs at a house over on Laporte Street was a guy called Frank Ruiz, and that Frank brought both girls here first because one of them was my stepdaughter, Jenna....

Later that day. I spent the afternoon in mounting terror. Christa would be coming home, and I knew, as soon as she stepped into the house, that Jenna would appear and tell her all about the punishment I had meted out. Forget the egg throwing, fucking two teenage girls trumped that in the misdemeanour stakes by a long, long way. I’d left the girls in the kitchen, gathering my clothes and walking out with as much dignity as...

I survived Thursday only because Jenna had school and then went straight to a part-time job at a local bookstore. She came home weary, and I gave her a foot massage for all her hard work before leading her to the bathroom. I had prepared a deep, hot bath with a thick layer of bubbles for her. She lay back with a contented smile. I topped up the water for the next hour, served her hot dogs with onion and mustard, three gla...