Marty was deliberately trying to extend the conversation. He was enjoying their casual chatter—and perhaps if he could keep Lexie talking, he’d find out what she’d meant when she told her sister on the phone: It’s only one small step but I did it.

‘Well, Julia and Imogen went to school together—between them, they seem to know everyone.’

‘In Merrigang or the whole of Canberra?’

Lexie laughed. ‘The whole of Canberra. You know the nation’s capital is just one big country town.’

Marty sipped his wine and watched her, waited. He saw Lexie open her mouth, close it again, turn slightly and call out to Bella. No, she wasn’t going to tell him. Another secret stored up.

The shadows of the trees were lengthening as Marty jogged back down the trail, collecting his jacket on the way. When he reached his car, now in the shadow of the hills, he shivered and fumbled with his keys. Once the sun set, the temperature would drop quickly. Last night, it had plummeted to four degrees.

Marty saw the men in orange overalls as he parked the car near the playgroup. So the volunteers from the State Emergency Services were finally here. He plotted the nearby streets in his mind: Banksia Terrace leading off towards their house, Acacia Drive meeting up with the two bigger roads, Waratah and Melaleuca. The school, the ovals, the local shops. In this small community, so many people knew each other. Why hadn’t anyone seen Bella? Marty felt they were missing something obvious. Was she stuck inside a tiny hiding place—a drain or an old shed or the back of a trailer? Unable to get out with her broken arm in a cast.

Back in the playgroup, the mothers had gone. The toys and puzzles had been packed up into one corner and large maps were spread across the child-size tables. Two men with the letters SES printed on their fluorescent vests were leaning over the maps and marking out sections. Four police officers stood talking next to a baby’s highchair.

One of them patted Marty’s shoulder and gave him a tight-lipped smile. The sort of smile Marty used when giving parents bad news about their child’s medical condition. The officer indicated for Marty to sit on an old green chair that could have come from a hospital staffroom thirty years ago. A curly-haired policeman passed Marty a mug of tea.

As Marty took a sip of tea, he overheard the word ‘paedophile’ and splashed hot liquid onto his shirt.

‘Are there known paedophiles living around here?’ he shouted while grabbing a wet cloth from the kitchen sink and pressing it against the burn on his midriff.

‘Sorry you heard that, Dr Parker,’ the curly-haired police officer answered calmly. ‘There are no indications that any such person is involved.’