Caruso wanted it to be Bella and her mother on the CCTV tape. He’d like to know that Bella had spent last night inside, safe and warm, rather than out in the cold. Or somewhere worse. They had run checks on the known paedophiles in Merrigang and southern Canberra and officers had been out to see them. But perhaps the guy wasn’t local. Maybe he was a tradie working in one of the new suburbs at Molonglo and he’d driven over to Merrigang shops for morning tea. On his way back, he’d happened to see a small girl wandering alone and offered her a lift home. So many homes were being built in Molonglo—hundreds of tiny Lego houses plonked on top of the old paddocks; hundreds of tradesmen coming and going every morning. He’d send Smithy over to the building sites to show Bella’s picture around.

Canberra was an unusual city for policing: fifteen minutes in any direction and an offender could be in dense bushland. Plenty of places to hide. Merrigang was almost surrounded by bush. And the village wasn’t really on the way to anywhere. People would only drive through to get to outlying farms or the Cotter River recreation area. Further out, there were some settlements, clusters of five or six houses, where bikies and crims were known to hang out. If we’re looking for an opportunistic paedophile, then that guy got lucky. In Merrigang, neighbours knew each other. Close to the playgroup were the school, the shops and a small nursing home, for God’s sake. All the oldies ever did was look out the window. Gwen and Hassan had spent an hour interviewing the residents; they’d seen nothing but wanted to chat.

Caruso had security footage of the customers shopping at the supermarket, bakery and chemist that morning. A list of patients who had visited the doctor’s surgery. A list of volunteers working at the charity shop. A list of staff at the school, and a copy of the visitors’ registration book showing maintenance people and parents helping out on the school grounds.

Merrigang was a small community that had rallied together after the bushfires; the village needed to rally again now.

Meanwhile, the crazies had been ringing in to the comms centre and to Crime Stoppers. Some sick fucks stayed on the line telling long, mad stories for attention. In other cases offenders had called in with false information to throw police off the trail—the ones who thought they were too clever and would never be caught. The mass of details, most of which was irrelevant, was carefully assessed by the Intel team. And sometimes, amid it all, they might find a gem.