He's wetting a washcloth to start cleaning some of the grime from Malcolm's shoulders and arms when Malcolm says that. Neal makes a strangled noise. "We were friends?"

But if his dad wasn't a killer...

Neal's mind flicks to James, his own fragile hopes and doubts. He shakes his head, wringing out the cloth and adding a little soap to start wiping Malcolm down. Gently. He's got scrapes everywhere, and where there aren't scrapes, there are bruises. "I think we won't be doing anything that married people do for a while. Not until you've had plenty of opportunity to recover."