As he sang, I could picture the boys when I had opened the playgroup gate. I’d had to put Dora on the ground to pull up the child lock. Then the twins and Sammy had run towards me. Only the three boys had been outside.

The gate had been locked.

44 MARTY

44

MARTY

AT 8 AM, MARTY DRESSED WITHOUT SHOWERING, DETERMINED TO SPEAK to Elissa. He hadn’t slept at all; tossing and turning, his thoughts flickering between Victoria, the missing shoe, Brendan and Elissa. He tried to replay his conversations with Elissa. Marty couldn’t recall mentioning Archie but he’d said plenty about Bella and Victoria and Lexie. He knew there was a playgroup contact list in the kitchen drawer and found the address for Mel. Before sneaking out of the quiet house, he left a note for Lexie. Gone to search for Bella.

Caruso had left a message reassuring Marty that the police were following up on Brendan Parrish and warning him not to contact the man. Marty had forgotten that a protection order was in place. Fuck that—there should be a protection order banning the teacher from going near teenage girls. At some stage, he’d explain to Victoria that he’d had to tell the police; now they knew everything. It was clear to him that Parrish must have taken Bella to the same house in Ainslie—that would account for the shoe and water bottle at the nearby church. The police had better find Bella this morning and arrest that bastard.

Hamstrung from approaching Parrish, at least he could sort out Elissa. It was a Monday and she was due at work. Smiling, happy Elissa, not playgroup mum Mel. His gut twisted at the thought of her moving between the two worlds—Marty had imagined that Elissa was his lifeline, his alone. As he checked the house numbers on her street, Marty noticed a light blue people mover backing out of a driveway. He glimpsed the driver: dark hair, full lips—definitely Elissa, or Mel, or whatever he was supposed to call her now. Damn, he’d have to talk to her in the car park at work.