I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so simple as girls lost in the bush.

The thought made him unbearably sad.

‘We’ll have a chat with Miss Madison Mason,’ said Con. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen.’

He opened the wardrobe and pulled out some of the clothes he’d hung there the night before – a white linen shirt, grey suit trousers, his underwear. He realised Gabriella hadn’t moved, and when he turned back he saw her watching him, a smirk on her lips and iPhone in her hand.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ she said, her phone camera pointed his way.

‘This is sexual objectification,’ he said.

‘Yep . . .’ Her whole chest moved as she laughed and danced out of the room.

Gabriella whistled at the sight of the Masons’ house, taking her sunglasses off to get a clearer look. ‘Damn.’

The two-storey house was rendered with white and gold finishes, turrets and bay windows emerging from between jacaranda trees, the air heady with their scent and buzzing with bees. The path from the driveway to the verandah was a line of marble stepping stones set in a meticulous lawn.

‘I feel like I’m walking towards a rich person’s house. Do you think that’s the effect they were going for?’ said Gabriella in a stage whisper.

Con knocked on the door. A moment later there was a squeak of metal from the peephole opening, and then a familiar girl’s voice from just behind the door. ‘Who are you?’

Con held up his police badge for the peephole. ‘Madison? I’m Detective Badenhorst and this is Detective Pakinga. Are your parents home?’

The door unlocked with clinking chains. Madison was as she’d appeared in the video. She held a shivering grey whippet dog to her chest.

‘Dad’s up at the search,’ said Madison. ‘Mum’s at the school, with my younger brother.’

‘There’s no school today,’ said Gabriella.

‘They’ve brought in counsellors,’ said Madison, a little waspishly. ‘Especially for the kids affected. Like my little brother. Shouldn’t you know that?’

‘We’re a little focused on other things, Madison,’ said Con, smiling, but voice hard.

‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude,’ she said. ‘Come in.’

She guided them to a sparkling clean and massive dining room, where they took a seat at the Tasmanian oak dining table. She placed the whippet on the ground. ‘This is Mr Bruiser. He won’t hurt you.’ As if to prove her point, the dog scampered out of the room.

‘Do you want anything? A drink? Something to eat?’

‘We just wondered if we could have a chat,’ said Gabriella. ‘Particularly about something you said in your video this morning.’

Madison’s red lips curled into a wry smile. She leaned back against the table, folding her arms across her chest. ‘You saw that? What do you want to know?’