Dad, it’s Victoria. Oh my God, I can’t believe that Bella is still missing. I want to come down and help look for her. I’m so scared, Dad. I know you’re busy but please call me.

Her voice was unrecognisable from the teenager of three weeks ago.

The Monday after Father’s Day, Marty had been at work for precisely half an hour when his ex-wife had called. They’d spoken briefly the night before to confirm that Victoria had arrived home safely in Sydney.

This morning Angela hadn’t bothered to say ‘hello’, she just launched straight into it.

‘Did you know that Victoria took ecstasy on Saturday night? Kimmy’s parents called me this morning. They saw some messages between the girls talking about how fabulous it was.’

Even though he and Angela had been divorced for thirteen years—longer than they’d been married—he recognised that tone of voice. Cold and controlled, far beyond the point of being angry.

‘Her parents are furious. Me too. I can’t trust you to look after her for one weekend.’

How come I don’t get to be furious? I just have to try to mop up the mess my daughter has made.

‘Have you spoken to Victoria about it?’ Marty asked. ‘Does she say it’s true?’

Angela ignored his questions and barrelled on.

‘What sort of state were they in on Saturday night? Did you realise they’d taken drugs?’

‘They seemed—’ he took a deep breath ‘—fine’.

At four years old, Victoria had looked up to him with adoring eyes, relying on him to magic up a meal in his empty bachelor pad. At eight, he’d taken her camping at Kanangra Walls, shown her the wonders of canyons and waterfalls. Out in the bush, Tory had shared stories about her school friends and her dreams for the future. Even at eleven, she had hugged him with abandon and, together, they had delighted in the sights of Paris between his conference meetings. Could he get that closeness back by keeping her secret?

‘Fine?’ Angela shouted the word back at him. ‘Don’t lie to me, Martin. You’re a doctor—you must have seen the effects of it. What time did you pick them up? How long does it stay in the system?’

Victoria hadn’t filled him in on what story she’d told her mother. Did Angela know the teenagers were at a party in a distant Canberra suburb?

His pager buzzed, and a nurse signalled outside the glass door.

‘I’ve got to go, Angela.’

‘You always have to go, Martin. I’ll ring you at lunchtime and I want the truth. What exactly happened? Where were they, anyway? And who with? Apparently, the messages talked about an older guy.’