His lips trembled. He pushed them tight together. That stopped the tears from flowing. He wasn’t gonna cry any more. He was stronger than that.

The TV chattered in the background: ‘. . . to the district mayor, Meredith Phythian, who has lived in Limestone Creek her whole life. Miss Phythian, many people are convinced these disappearances can be attributed to the same person responsible for murders of 1985 – that the supposed “Hungry Man” is still alive and, now, active. Do you think the public has reason to fear?’

‘No. The worst thing we can do is panic. These girls need us to stick together and work to find them. The monster responsible for 1985 is dead. Limestone Creek has always banded together in times of hardship, be that bushfires or floods or the GFC, and this is no exception —’

There was a knock on the door.

Murphy fell out of the chair in his rush to open it.

A short woman with a lined face and a platinum blonde bob stood on the step. She wore an expensive black coat, pearl earrings, high-heeled shoes. She was out of place at the Murphys’ house. And she was crying.

Murphy frowned. ‘Nelly?’

‘Please, Murphy,’ said Nelly Mason, mother of Cierra and Madison. Her mascara was running. She held up a photo: it was a school photo of Cierra. ‘Please bring her back.’

Murphy stepped away from her. ‘What?’

‘Please, Murphy. Please.’ She followed him inside the house.

It took him a few moments to understand what she was asking. ‘Hang on – I didn’t take them!’

‘Liar,’ she shouted. She brandished the photo like a weapon. ‘I know you were in her room!’

‘Are you fucking serious, Nelly?’ Butch stepped in beside his brother.

‘Where are they?’

‘I wish I knew!’ Murphy backed away further as she tried to dodge around Butch. ‘Jasmine is missing too!’

‘Your own daughter! How could you?’

‘Alright, lady, time for you to go.’ Butch hoisted the diminutive woman up over his shoulder and marched her out of the house.

‘We know it was you, Murphy!’ she screeched, pounding her tiny fists against Butch’s back. ‘We all know!’

Butch put her down on the other side of the door, then slammed it shut.

‘Bring them back!’ She beat against the door. ‘Bring them back!’

Murphy backed into the table. ‘I didn’t take them,’ he said. ‘I didn’t.’

‘Don’t listen to her, lad,’ said Butch.

Murphy’s heart pounded as Nelly Mason kept beating at the door. ‘I have to talk to her.’

‘Stop,’ said Butch, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him into a seat. He fixed a joint up and lit it. ‘Don’t listen to her.’