‘I know exactly where . . .’ said Eliza. ‘Tom showed me. Butch wouldn’t have had any difficulty getting Jasmine to follow him.’ She said it firmly, allowing no argument.

The gradient grew steeper, in a series of undulations through rocky soil and red dirt. Eliza pulled over at a rocky outcrop – a clearing in the canopy – that offered a view of Limestone Creek.

‘I think this might be close. Can you help me?’ Without waiting for Madison’s reply, she climbed out of the ute and then up into the tray. ‘Come up and help me.’

‘What is it?’ said Madison, climbing out of the car. ‘Is this where they are?’

Madison screamed as a wombat, heavy and broad, snuffled off into the undergrowth of ferns and grasses. Then she laughed at herself, shakily smoothing out the skirt of her school dress.

Eliza stood upright on the tray of the Landcruiser, her white dress billowing in the breeze, weighed down by the contents of her pocket. ‘Come up here.’

Madison followed, reaching out for Eliza’s hand for help.

Eliza allowed Madison one final view of Limestone Creek. Her little kingdom, and the chaos she had caused. She could hear the helicopters, the hum of traffic, thumping music from the paddock beside the community hall.

Madison looked out over the town, her deep red hair catching the wind, her shoulders rising and falling with excited breath.

‘Can you see that?’ Eliza said softly, leaning over the cab of the Landcruiser, pointing into the bush some distance away. Her other hand was in the pocket of Monica’s dress, on the cold metal of the handcuffs.

Madison shuffled to stand beside her. ‘What is it? All I see is the bush.’

‘Maybe if you lean forward . . . put your hands here,’ said Eliza, pointing at the black steel of the cab guard.

Madison put her hands where Eliza wanted them and Eliza moved quickly, slamming Madison’s head down on top of the cab, bloodying her nose, dazing her. Quick as a snake, she cuffed Madison’s wrist to the cab guard.

Madison groaned, tried to feel her nose, then realised her wrist was cuffed. She tried to yank away, but the cuffs shackled her to the cab guard. ‘What are you doing?’ she screamed.

Eliza pulled Madison’s phone from the pocket of her school dress and stepped back, out of reach. She weighed the phone in her hand, before taking a photo of Madison.

Madison’s eyes widened, blood dripping out of her nose. ‘You took them, Monica?’

Eliza took her glasses out of her pocket and slid them onto her nose. Now she could see Madison in sharper focus: the terror, the blood running from her nose, the panicked breathing.

‘Eliza! You’re Eliza!’

‘Where are Jasmine and Cierra?’ said Eliza. ‘You know where they are.’

‘I don’t! I don’t!’

‘Doesn’t matter. You’ll tell me soon.’