‘I’m fine,’ said Con.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Murphy.

‘What do you make of this?’

‘If Bree’s killed herself, that makes it more likely the other girls are safe too, right? It means Bree was never taken.’

‘She looks like she’s been dead for days. And her bag was still at the Fisherman’s Hut,’ said Con. ‘But what are the odds that Madison would organise a massive vigil that just happened to walk past the place where Bree was hanging?’

‘Madison knows where Jasmine is. I’m sure of it.’ There was almost a bounce in Murphy’s step. ‘How long until we know how long Bree’s been hanging there for?’

‘At least an hour to get her to the hospital for the autopsy,’ said Con. ‘If they do it tonight.’

‘Can we go ask Madison about it?’ said Murphy.

‘Tomorrow? Definitely.’

‘Can I come?’ said Murphy.

‘Probably not,’ said Con.

Murphy nodded, as though he’d expected that answer. Their footsteps crunched through the red soil and stone, Tasmanian devils in the bush around them, a masked owl watching from the branch of an ancient pencil pine.

And still, Con struggled to get his shaking under control.

It’s normal: you’re only human. It’s the shock of finding Bree. You tried hard to find her, to save her, and yet she killed herself. Sudden weariness. What’s even the point?

Murphy said, ‘I need to tell you something.’

‘What is it?’ said Con.

Murphy explained the USB drive Madison had given him via Carmen. He said he’d only had time to watch two of the videos Jasmine had made, and was very sparse on the details of what they contained.

‘Can I see them?’ said Con.

‘They’re a bit private . . . maybe once I’ve finished them all . . .’

‘I need to see them, Murphy. Two girls dead. Two girls missing. One of them your daughter.’

‘Piss off.’ Murphy rose himself up to his fullest height, but after a moment he deflated, sighed. ‘I mean, maybe. But not yet.’

Con thought about pushing him, but he just didn’t have the energy for more conflict. He’d do it tomorrow.

That made him feel ashamed. He was the worst detective in the world. All he wanted to do was to get back to his room at the Inn: better yet, back to his house in Launceston. Even better again, back to Sydney, his mates, a city he understood, a state that wasn’t wild Tasmania. His mum and dad.

By now they had reached the school car park, and were heading towards the BMW. Another wave of exhaustion rolled through him and he tripped on a stone.

Murphy grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. ‘Want me to drive, mate?’

Con glared at him. ‘I’m bloody fine.’