‘Coops is a good detective but we should be out there, interviewing everyone —’

‘We can’t be everywhere.’

‘— finding out who is dating who, who cheated on who. All teenage girls care about are boys, or girls if they prefer, and the only way we’re going to —’

‘Getting bogged down sorting through the quagmire of teenage relationships is a slow way to start a case,’ he said.

‘You don’t think it’s important?’ she demanded.

‘Yes, it is. But it will take a long time, and it’s just one item on the list of inferences we’re dealing with – it’s a big list. Was there foul play or are they just lost? What about Eliza’s head wound? What about the “bear” in the trees? If it’s foul play, any one of the girls could be the target – and the others could be in on it, or taken out as witnesses. Then there’s the historic disappearances – we don’t really know if Ted Barclay was guilty of those or not. One of the fathers is a drug dealer. A YouTube celebrity is friends with all the missing girls.’

‘So the case is full of mysteries! Let’s cross one off the list.’ She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. ‘I’m calling the hospital. I want to know why Eliza Ellis thinks the fight was about a boy.’

Con opened his mouth to argue – they still didn’t have the doctor’s all-clear – but Gabriella was already speaking on the phone. He huffed, then started the BMW in what he hoped was an angry sort of manner.

‘Fantastic,’ said Gabriella when she hung up. ‘Eliza was released from hospital this morning. Apparently they left a message with the station, but no one told us.’

‘These country police stations,’ said Con, a burst of frustration rolling through him. ‘They don’t know their inbox from their elbow.’

‘They said she’s gone to stay with her sister. I’ve got her address.’

‘Well, hopefully Eliza’s mind is a lot clearer today.’

‘Maybe she’s remembered something else . . . paranormal.’

‘I bloody hope not.’

Tom and Monica North’s house was on the outskirts of Limestone Creek, where the nature strips were lined with tall poplar trees – full of water, they were a natural firebreak that the early settlers had planted against the dreaded bushfires. The rain brought out the smell of lawns and fertiliser.

Con rang the doorbell. A dog’s booming bark came from inside.

‘Down, Sarge – no, outside! Go! Outside!’ came Eliza’s voice. When she opened the door, she looked different: her hair was shorter, she wasn’t wearing glasses, and her face wasn’t cut and bruised. She was still just as pretty, with the same smattering of freckles across the nose. She kept a hold of the door handle.

‘Hello again, Eliza,’ said Con, a little uncertainly.