Ries glanced at Waring, then took out a mobile phone and fiddled with it for a moment before shoving it at me. ‘Do you recognise this?’

‘The phone?’ I didn’t understand.

‘No. This.’ Ries tapped its screen, which displayed a photo of something.

I squinted. ‘That’s the worksheet I wrote for Aaron.’

‘It was found in Krystal McCall’s car, which was found in Coffs Harbour. Do you know why she took it?’

‘The worksheet?’ Wasn’t it obvious? ‘Because it’s full of exercises for Aaron. To improve his performance at school.’

‘But she was taking him away from school. Why would that matter anymore?’

I didn’t answer. It was a stupid question.

‘Your phone number is on the worksheet. Right here,’ Ries continued. He gestured at the screen again. ‘Why?’

‘In case she needed help.’ As he opened his mouth, I added, ‘With the exercises.’

‘Or with anything else?’

I said nothing, so he tried another tack.

‘Have you ever been to Coffs Harbour?’

I shook my head.

‘Do you have friends there?’

‘No.’

‘Do you have friends living anywhere on the north coast?’

‘No.’

‘Your dad’s in Kempsey. That’s only an hour from Coffs.’

I frowned. ‘You think Krystal’s with my dad?’

‘Is she?’

I sighed and massaged the bridge of my nose. ‘My dad has high blood pressure. I wouldn’t let Aaron anywhere near him.’

‘Have you spoken to your father lately?’

‘No.’ Short and sharp, like a door slamming.

‘Can you tell me anything about his car? Make? Model? Registration?’

Waring had produced a notebook. Eyeing it, I took a deep breath and said, ‘Look—I can see what’s happening here. The Rooneys are desperate. You’re desperate. So you’re going to bother an old man with high blood pressure who wouldn’t break the law at gunpoint.’ Before Ries could respond, I held up one hand. ‘You can write this down: I don’t know where Krystal is and I didn’t help her leave. That’s all I have to say. All right?’

I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear. But Ries didn’t seem to get the message. ‘Were you born in Kempsey?’ he asked.

I stayed silent.

‘Do you keep up with any of your old friends there?’

A bell rang. I glanced out the window. ‘That’s lunch. I’ve got playground duty.’

‘Ms Ayres—’

‘We’re finished. I’m not talking to you again without a lawyer.’

As I marched away, I wondered where I was going to find myself a decent lawyer in Otford. I knew my Sydney lawyer wouldn’t have a bar of this.

‘Hamish Staines,’ Deb advised me.

‘Hamish—?’

‘Staines.’ She spelled it out. ‘He’s based in Bathurst. You don’t want someone from around here.’