Without waiting for Con’s answer, he walked into the kitchen and began rummaging around. Murphy took a bottle of whisky off a high shelf and poured himself a glass.

‘You can’t just —’ said Con.

‘I think I’ve earned it, mate.’ Murphy pawed through their freezer, pulling out a tray of ice cubes. He dropped some into his glass, then pressed the tray against the side of his head.

‘Did you know Eliza couldn’t have kids?’ said Con.

‘No,’ said Murphy. ‘But that would explain it, right? Why she took Jasmine and Cierra.’

‘How the hell does that explain anything?’ said Con.

‘I dunno,’ said Murphy in a tired voice. ‘I’m just trying to make sense of it, mate. She was really attached to Denni. Maybe she’s trying to replace Denni?’ He drank his whisky. ‘Either way, I’m believing she took Jasmine and we’re about to find her.’

Murphy’s phone rang in Con’s hand. The commander was calling. Con put it on speaker.

‘Well, we’ve sent the word out,’ said Agatha. ‘We’ve got everyone from Limestone Creek to Launceston out on the roads. From the sounds of your timeline, she can’t have gone far.’

‘Good,’ said Con.

‘There’s something else you should know,’ said the commander. ‘This probably isn’t the best time to tell you, but I don’t want you to hear it from one of the other officers.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve had a call from the commissioner. He asked whether I felt you were fit for service.’

‘Why would he ask that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you punched Sergeant Doble?’

‘Doble? I didn’t punch him. I just . . . put him on the ground.’

Murphy shot Con a look of surprise. ‘You punched that prick?’

Con waved him off.

‘Con . . . why did you continue today, after I made it very clear you needed to take a break?’

‘Because I got new information – Eliza was at the Hanging Tree the day Bree killed herself!’

She sighed. ‘You’ve left me with no choice.’

‘What?’

‘I need you off the case.’

‘Right now? When we’re just about to find Eliza?’

‘Yes, Badenhorst, right now. You have the satisfaction of knowing you’ve solved it, but neither of us is getting into deeper trouble than we’re already in. I should’ve taken you off the case days ago . . . Don’t deny your PTS symptoms have been getting in the way.’

‘What you’re saying is I’ve done all the hard work but will get none of the recognition?’

‘Physically assaulting Sergeant Doble, Badenhorst?’ she said.

‘He tried to punch me! I didn’t even hurt him.’

‘Listen . . . post-traumatic stress is nothing to laugh at —’

‘I do not have PTS,’ Con shouted. He ended the call.

‘You punched Doble?’ asked Murphy again, sounding impressed. He poured a whisky for Con and slid it across the counter.