‘No. She doesn’t know anything.’

‘But you do. You’ve met the girls?’

A long pause. A nod.

‘So, just now, when you saw the footprint and the empty cupboards, you thought at once it was the girls, not some stranger. Correct?’

New expressions flickered over Washburn’s face. Calculation. Equivocation. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’

‘Craig…’ Hirsch said harshly.

‘All right, all right, I met the kids exploring the creek one day.’

‘When?’

Washburn shrugged. ‘Last year some time. Winter. The creek was running.’

‘A long walk from their place to here.’

‘Not here, closer to the ruins. I was walking in one direction, the kids in the other.’

‘They didn’t run away, try to hide?’

‘No.’

Hirsch saw another new expression on Washburn’s whiskery face: he’d grown close to the family and possibly knew their secrets.

‘You met Mrs Rennie, too? She told you why they were living out here?’

Washburn considered that. ‘Eventually. A long time later, once we got to know each other. I don’t know if I should—’

‘She was shot dead, Craig. Her son was shot dead. Your friends were murdered, and it’s possible her daughters could be next. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d met the family?’

‘Why should I?’ Washburn said with heat. ‘It wasn’t like I had anything do with anything. I wasn’t even here when Denise was shot, and the news said it looked like the girls were picked up by the side of the road. Didn’t occur to me they’d come here.’

‘But it was a possibility, surely?’

Washburn shrugged. ‘I wanted to protect them.’

‘By keeping quiet.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, they’re clearly not sleeping here, but it seems they sneak in and pinch your stuff and help themselves to a shower now and then, so they can’t be far away. There’s a spare key they know about?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where are they, Craig?’

‘No idea.’

‘You’re not protecting them by keeping your trap shut. Did you hear on the news about the man who was shot yesterday?’

‘Don’t know.’ Washburn’s eyes wouldn’t settle on anything. ‘Might have.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes. It’s possible he was looking for the girls. An accomplice shot him before he could be arrested. What does that suggest to you, Craig?’

Washburn pouted. He wanted to be left in peace.

‘Craig?’

Washburn sat up straight. ‘Okay, okay. It means the girls could still be in danger.’

‘Exactly.’

Now Washburn cocked his head and gazed curiously at Hirsch. ‘Was he police?’

Hirsch went very still. ‘What exactly did Mrs Rennie tell you?’

Washburn’s eyes slid away. ‘Things.’

‘I’ve had enough of this. Where are the girls?’

Washburn agonised, twitching the seams and whiskers that made up his face. ‘I think they’re hiding in the dugout.’