Silence. Madison quaked, weeping, and looked off over Eliza’s head and into the distance in vain hope of rescue. Her eyes widened briefly, and then she brought them back down to meet Eliza’s. She could hardly believe it: there was new fire in the girl’s eyes. She straightened, brushing dirt off her school dress.

‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ said Madison. ‘You hear me? Denni killed herself, you stupid bitch. Denni was messed up: she was always going to kill herself. She wanted to kill herself the moment she got to Limestone Creek. You should be thanking me for keeping her alive as long as I did. She finally decided she couldn’t do it anymore and I helped her find peace. I helped her find purpose.’

Eliza dug her fingernails into the stock of the rifle. Madison lifted her chin in defiance. ‘My online presence is the greatest tool anyone from this nowhere town is ever gonna have: the amount of good I can do is more than you could even understand. Denni was already dead, you just refused to accept it. But you . . . you killed Georgia. In cold blood. You’re the real murderer.’

Eliza stood close now, resting her foot on the tailgate of the Landcruiser.

‘And Jasmine and Cierra? Did you kill them too?’ said Madison.

‘Don’t act dumb. You’re in contact with them, somehow. And now you’re going to tell me where they are, or I’m going to kill you.’

‘Go to hell, Miss Ellis.’ She put her head back and screamed. ‘Just shoot her already!’

What?

Eliza spun.

There, in the middle of the track, stood Con, Gabriella and Murphy.

Con’s pistol was aimed at her.

Eliza swung the rifle up and shot at them. It went wide.

The trio split into three directions.

Eliza turned and pushed the Landcruiser with all her strength, a savage grimace on her face as she caught Madison’s eyes.

The branch gave way and Madison screamed as the vehicle rolled towards the cliff.

CHAPTER 52

MURPHY

Con had huddled behind a snow gum, ready to return Eliza’s gunfire.

Gabriella hid behind another: she didn’t even have a weapon.

Eliza ran towards a ridge where the gums grew thicker, carrying the rifle across her chest, her white dress billowing.

Murphy sprinted towards the girl in the Landcruiser, slowly rolling towards the cliff. He reached it less than ten metres from the edge, slapping his hands on the tailgate. He heaved, digging his heels into the rocky ground, but it was no good. The Landcruiser pulled him forward, boots slipping.

He yelled, forearms bulging, shoulders burning.

Con appeared beside him, adding his strength to Murphy’s. The Landcruiser slowed but didn’t stop, the sound of their sliding feet mixing with crunching tyres and Madison’s screams.

Behind them: gunfire. Con must have given Gabriella his Glock.

‘Madison, is the door locked?’ shouted Con.

‘Yes!’ screamed Madison.