Con and Gabriella parked the squad car. They were a block away from Jack’s house. They walked down the footpath huddled together under a shared umbrella, looking like a couple on an evening stroll. Con ignored the phone buzzing in his coat pocket: the commander had called twice on the drive over, and both times he’d ignored it.

He knew she would be furious, but at the moment it was more important they get to Jack. Knowing police were on their way should make Jack act erratic or careless, and that meant his behaviour could be very telling.

He lived in a small unit beneath towering golden elms and fenced in by rotten palings, dark but for the streetlight across the street. Gabriella squeezed Con’s arm. He stepped away from her, disappearing into some scrub at the front fence, squeezing between the palings into the overgrown yard.

A thrill raced down his spine and down his arms. He had missed this.

He walked around the house, peering into the windows where the lights were on but finding only drawn curtains or empty rooms. A dirtbike was in the carport. He kept on looking around until he saw a shadow inside moving against a curtain.

He padded up to that window and pressed his ear against the glass. He could hear a voice, but couldn’t make out the words.

He moved quickly to the back door but found it locked. He pulled his lock pick set out, sliding in the torsion wrench and a basic rake pick. It was louder than he would have liked, but he was counting on Jack being distracted. Finally the picks rotated fully and the lock opened.

This was breaking a few laws, but the end justified the means. A girl was dead, three more were in danger, and the man inside had probably been sleeping with at least one of them.

He crept inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The tiled floor of the laundry was strewn with boots, and shirts and trousers hung along a clothesline that stretched down the hallway.

Con could hear a man’s voice further down the hall. He slipped his phone out of his coat pocket, double-checking that a blank text was ready to be sent to Gabriella, which would be the signal for her to knock on the door and draw Jack away if there was any danger of Con being caught.

Carefully stepping over the shoes and around the hanging washing, he slipped into the bedroom next to the room where Jack seemed to be pacing. The bedroom was tidy but for the unmade bed, with posters of mountain bikers and half-naked women on the walls. He listened as Jack spoke hurriedly into his phone: