‘Shut up, Con,’ said Eliza. ‘I know you’re stalling.’

‘She’s the monster who convinced Denni to kill herself.’

‘And Bree,’ said Eliza. Her grip on the rifle wavered as she stepped closer.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘I feel it too. The guilt.’

‘What are you talking about?’ She was close enough now that he could see her chalky white face, her bloodless lips.

‘There was a case in Sydney. A man led a group . . . they tortured and killed young girls. It was my job to save them, but I was too late. I was too late.’ He stepped towards her, losing his balance, but Madison grabbed his waist from behind, supporting him.

‘What are you playing at, Con?’ she said, the rifle now aimed at his head.

‘More guilt now . . . If I found you sooner, I could have saved Madison.’ He stepped closer again.

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Eliza. ‘It’s hers.’

‘I wasn’t good enough. I was too late. I’m the reason they’re dead.’

Eliza breathed heavily. ‘Stop stalling and move, Con!’

‘Every word is true.’ He was close enough now. He pressed his forehead against the muzzle of the rifle. ‘It’s okay to feel guilty. It’s all okay.’ He screwed his eyes shut, fighting the wave of dizziness. ‘But it’s not your fault,’ he whispered.

He felt the rifle trembling in her arm.

Then it steadied.

‘I won’t let you talk me out of this. I’ve come too far.’

She struck his face with the barrel of the rifle. Hard. His nose broke and blood flooded his mouth, but he remained standing. With the last of his strength he turned and embraced Madison, smothering her body with his. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered in her ear. His blood ran onto her schooldress.

‘I don’t want you holding her when she dies, Con,’ called Eliza. ‘I want her to die alone.’

His vision turned black at the edges. ‘Don’t do this, Eliza.’

‘Fine. Then you’ll both die.’

The sound of the shot cracked through the trees, stirring a nest of flame robins into the air.

‘No!’ shouted Con. Madison whimpered below him.

But no pain came. He could feel Madison’s heart pounding in her chest.

He turned, bleary eyed. Eliza had fallen to her knees. A ray of sunlight fell through the canopy, lighting up her face. Blood ran out of her chest, a red flower blooming on the front of her dress. The rifle lay on the ground beside her in the pine needles.

Eliza slumped to the side, resting her head against the trunk of a pencil pine. The bell-like song of a green rosella filled the quiet grove.

Her amber eyes remained on Con’s even as life left them.

‘Con?’ came Gabriella’s voice from far, far away. ‘Con!’

‘Madison?’ he said.