Standing on Mel Wainwright’s front deck, Caruso assessed the small house while they waited: built in the 1970s, minimally renovated, cheap to rent or buy, with a light blue people mover in the driveway. A large car for only one kid but she looked after other people’s children too. Ferrying them around presumably. Losing a child in her care wouldn’t bode well for future work. Had her income stream disappeared along with Bella? Mel was a single mum—presumably she relied on the money from her work. Was the father involved and paying child support?

‘Suze, any info on the child’s father?’ he whispered.

‘Not yet.’

Mel opened the door wearing a white apron over faded jeans, her wavy hair pulled back in an elastic band, pink ugg boots on her feet. She shook their hands—hers still wet from whatever task they’d interrupted. His early impression of ‘earth mother’ had been spot on.

‘Sorry, I’m in the middle of baking a quiche,’ Mel explained. ‘I’ve been preparing a few things to bring down for the searchers. Help to keep their strength up.’

‘I hope it’s okay to drop in unannounced,’ Caruso said as he stepped through the door. ‘We thought it would be easier than asking you to come to the playgroup. We’re talking to all the mums again today.’

People chatted more freely on their home turf. It also gave him an indication of their background. Mel was clearly a homemaker. In the lounge room, two old couches had been re-covered in a soft black material and positioned so that people could speak to each other rather than angled towards a giant flat screen, as in so many other houses. In fact, there was no television to be seen. One corner was set up with a play mat and toys. A huge abstract painting took pride of place on the wall—as Caruso stared at it, the swirls became recognisable as children hugging a taller mother figure.

‘Have you had lunch yet?’ Mel asked as they sat down on the couch. ‘Can I get you a sandwich or some homemade soup?’

‘We’re good, thanks,’ Suze answered for both of them.

‘Cup of tea or coffee?’

‘No, thanks.’

Mel really did want to keep the masses fed and watered. Or was she looking for a distraction? She sat on the armrest of the other couch for a moment, then stood up again, then perched on the edge again. Jumpy. But, then, all the mothers were agitated.

‘Before we talk about yesterday, can you tell us about Sammy’s father?’ Suze asked. ‘Does he live around here? Does he ever come to playgroup?’

Mel leant back against the couch and laughed, flipping her thick dark hair. That smile and the voluptuous shape underneath the white apron—Caruso guessed she’d broken a few hearts.

‘Absolutely not. He’s never even seen Sammy.’

‘Do you know where he is?’