"It wasn't even...it was cold blood. I planned it. For...for months." Because Murphy had to be entirely honest here and now. Maybe this wasn't proper confession, but his soul didn't know the difference. All it knew was that a burden was finally being lifted in some way.

"He...he was a bad man. I know that doesn't matter, but...I had a little boy. He was eight. He was only eight..."

And then Murphy's breath was hitching again and he found himself struggling with words. "And this man...he took Charlie. And he...he hurt him. Ways...nobody should ever be hurt but especially not a little kid. And then he tied him up and...and put him in a sack...like...like the kind potatoes come in. And..."

And Murphy couldn't go on. He'd never talked about it. It was why counseling had failed, why his marriage had failed. Even when he was beating Napier to death he couldn't bring himself to articulate what the man had done. All he could do was cling to this kind man he hardly even knew, pouring out his miserable inner demons.